by Ally Shields
“Big, tough looking. Lots of weapons. You’re just a cute blonde.”
Ari rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. As you said, assumptions are such a drag.”
Eddie laughed. “OK, you got me. My mistake. And my turn to apologize.”
His rib sandwich, fries, and shake arrived. Ari ordered her drink and watched in amusement as he took the edge off his hunger. He put down the half-eaten sandwich and wiped the sauce from his mouth. “Sure you don’t want some? Best rib sandwich in town.”
“No, really, I’m fine. But about the drugs?”
“Are you going to tell me why you want to know?”
“We’ll see,” she hedged. Not if she didn’t have to.
He shrugged, and in between bites, he began to talk about the articles. “First heard about Fantasy when this woman called me at work. About five months ago. Her son OD’d. He’d flunked out of college and brought the stuff home with him. She thought The Clarion should be warning other parents. I was curious, so I asked around. The drug had been in Riverdale two months and already caused three overdoses. That’s when I started writing the series.”
“Where’s the drug coming from?”
“Both coasts, and now here in the Midwest. Her son was in a small college in Alabama.”
“So, everywhere,” she said. “New York, LA, Timbuktu. What about local distributers?”
He scratched his chin and eyed her. “Got some ideas. Maybe Otherworlders. No proof yet. Maybe you know something.” He paused, as if inviting a comment, then continued. “I had an informant. Good connections, but her boyfriend killed her before we got that far.”
“What?” Ari straightened in her seat and stared at him. “What informant?” Riverdale didn’t have that many murders. Not the kind the public and press knew about. “Are you talking about Angela Raymond?” Ari scooted forward on the bench. “She was working for you, wasn’t she? Why didn’t you come forward and tell the police after she died?”
“Hey, calm down. Why do you care if she was working for me?”
“You’re the source of the cash,” Ari continued unabated. “You did pay her in cash, didn’t you? Hundred dollar bills?”
“Yeah, I did.” His brows drew into a deep frown. “Is that significant?”
“Don’t you get it?” Ari stopped. She needed to be careful what she said to the press. “Everything about a victim is important,” she finished, keeping it vague.
Eddie’d already caught the implication. He shook his head vigorously. “No, uh-uh. If you think she was killed because of her undercover work, you’re wrong. It was the boyfriend. Some domestic thing. I talked with neighbors the night she died. And the PD didn’t deny it when I asked for an official comment. I didn’t mention she was a source, because…well, it’s confidential. And it didn’t seem to matter.” His jaw set in a stubborn line, but his voice had lost confidence. “Nobody knew she worked for me. I swear. Nobody. I never mentioned her name. Not even to my editor.”
“Let’s back up a minute,” Ari said. She’d rather have him helping the investigation than wallowing in unproductive guilt. “We’re still investigating. No one’s under arrest, but maybe you’re right about the boyfriend. Everything we know about Angela will help us nail the right killer.”
“Wow, I can’t believe it.” Eddie propped his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. “I sure hope the boyfriend did it. But I can tell you don’t think so.”
When he looked at Ari, she saw the doubt on his face. She was tempted to say something, maybe even something reassuring, but he’d already begun to talk again.
“Angie saw the first article I wrote on Fantasy. She called me, wanting to know how much I’d pay for inside information. She promised details. Users, dealers. I asked how she knew this stuff, and that’s when she got really vague. Said she hung around the Olde Town bars and heard stuff. But her timing couldn’t have been better. I’d used all my data on the one article, and my editor was salivating for more. Suddenly I had visions of an award-winning series.”
“So you said you were interested.” Ari tried to hurry the story along.
He gave her a rueful look. “You bet I was interested. Especially if she could lead me to the suppliers. Front page stuff. And the Otherworld connection was major headlines. Told her I’d pay $500 a pop for anything she got. And I did.” Eddie signaled the waitress and had his Coke refilled.
“Frankly, Angie was a gold mine,” he continued. “She provided the info I used in the rest of the series, from the street price on Fantasy to its availability in the local bars. Her interviews with users were priceless. Great descriptions of how the drug affected each of them.” He glanced at Ari. “Your greatest dreams in a capsule. That’s what they said. Angie was good at getting people to talk. She might have had a career in this field.”
Eddie looked pensive but continued his story. “But she wasn’t smart about how she did it. She got her information by hanging out in dangerous places, like the Otherworld bars. And with dangerous people. I warned her about the vamp boyfriend.”
“Was the boyfriend or Club Dintero involved in the drugs?”
“Club Dintero? You think Andreas is part of this? That’s something I never expected.”
“Stop it, Eddie! No. I wasn’t saying that. But her boyfriend works there. I just wanted to be sure the club was clean.” Ari reminded herself again to be cautious around the reporter. He picked up on everything. “How do you know Andreas?”
Eddie gave her a quizzical look. “Everyone knows Andreas. He’s a popular singer. The Clarion has run a couple of pieces on the club. And I can’t believe he’d have anything to do with the drug trade.”
Interesting. Andreas had a public face outside the magic community. She’d bet they’d never glimpsed the angry vampire who confronted her in the bar parking lot. But she wasn’t going to think about him now. She shrugged, hoping to signal her loss of interest in the subject of Andreas and his club.
“You never gave me an answer about Victor, the boyfriend,” she said. “Involved or not?”
“Don’t know. Angie never came through with the names. I assumed he was. Although, come to think of it, he didn’t give her the sample she brought to me. She mentioned a werewolf friend.”
Ari probed for specifics on the wolf connection, but Eddie didn’t have any more details to give. “So what happened to the sample? You still have it?”
Eddie shook his head. “It was all used. By the lab,” he added hurriedly. “I’ll do a lot to get a good story, but I don’t do drugs. There were two capsules. A private lab used both in the confirmation analysis. It was Fantasy.”
“We’ll need a copy of the report. Can you get it to Lt. Foster at the PD?”
“Sure. No problem, but why?”
“To compare it with the drugs we have.”
“Looking for…?” He let the question dangle.
Ari considered how much to share. If she didn’t tell him something, he might start guessing. And nosing around. She didn’t want any part of their conversation on tomorrow’s front page, but maybe she could make a deal that would benefit everybody. Eyes and ears in the human community might come in handy, and he was familiar with the drug trade. “I’ll tell you, if it’s off the record. Can you handle that?”
Eddie wrinkled his nose. “When you can release the story, will you call me first?”
“If we can release it,” she amended. “Yes, I don’t see why not.”
“I have your word?”
“As long as I have yours.”
“OK, off the record for now. But I’ll hold you to that phone call.”
Ari sketched the history of the earlier Otherworld attacks. Eddie had heard most of the details. Except the drug connection. When she added that an altered form of Fantasy might be responsible for the vampires’ violence, he jerked up straight.
“Holy shit.” He barely breathed the words. “Someone has found a way to make drugs that affect vampires. What a story!” Ari could almost see the h
eadlines running through his head. “But you won’t find the proof in my sample. I read every word of the lab report. No unidentified substance. I’d have jumped all over that. Wow, has this ever happened before?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“You wouldn’t consider changing your mind about this being off the record, would you?” He grinned at her, because he already knew the answer.
She said it anyway. “Not a chance.”
“That’s too bad. Story of a life time with my byline in big letters.” He leaned back and looked at her. “The vamps were hopped up on Fantasy.”
Ari sighed and played with the straw in her drink. “It’s not confirmed, but, yes, it’s a possibility. One I don’t want to read in the paper.”
“Kind of scary people’s fantasies are killing them, huh?”
“Don’t even say that. The violence might just be a side effect.” She gave him her best cop face. “And don’t even think about printing it.”
“Hey, I got it. Don’t worry. Much as I’d love to rush this into print, we have a deal.” The grin returned. “I wouldn’t jeopardize a huge story.” He tilted his head to one side. “You know, the last time I spoke with Angie, maybe a week before she died, she hinted about something new she was checking into. I thought she meant a different drug.”
Ari followed his train of thought. “But it could have been the altered Fantasy.”
“And maybe that’s what got her killed.” Eddie picked at the last of his fries. “I guess it was her work for me.”
“You’re not responsible,” Ari said. “Angela lived a wild lifestyle, took a lot of risks. She got in over her head this time. That’s what got her killed. And whether you paid her or not didn’t change anything.”
Ari left him seated in the booth, staring into space, occupied by his inner demons. He didn’t notice when she stopped and paid the bill.
Chapter Twelve
Ari couldn’t wait to share the news with Ryan, but she caught him in a foul mood.
“Dammit, Ari. What’s the matter with my department?”
He was putting in long hours and made no secret he felt harried about the vamp murders. He grumped that his superiors were pressuring him to close the case, stamped ‘random vampire violence.’ With both suspects dead, police officials didn’t want to waste further resources. Ryan thought he had a duty to resolve the matter.
“If someone triggered the vamps, with drugs or whatever, I’ve got to stop them. Or this just happens again. Right? One human dead this time. How many the next? Command’s making a bad decision.”
Since Ryan was on the lower end of the food chain in the police hierarchy, Ari and Ryan both knew who’d win the argument. He figured they had another twenty-four hours before his chief ordered him to shut down the investigation.
Ari interrupted, hoping she could cheer him with the information on Angela’s undercover work. He wasn’t very enthusiastic.
“And how’s this get us closer to naming her killer? We can’t prove a damn thing. Victor, Simpson, the she-wolf, some unknown druggie or dealer…any or all of them could have been Angela’s source. And decided to keep her quiet.” Ryan’s frustration seeped through the phone. “I don’t know, Ari. It could also be somebody we haven’t heard of. I’m going home and have a beer. Maybe I’ll feel different when I’ve thought it over.”
When Ari didn’t get a call from Ryan the next morning, she figured he was still in a funk. No biggie. She had plenty to do.
Finishing the written reports consumed most of her day. This was one part of the job Ari could live without, especially this week. The Magic Council required each Guardian to provide a written report whenever an Otherworlder in that district killed someone, especially humans, or was the victim of human violence. There had been five such deaths and the still unsolved Goshen Park attack in the past eleven days. Although two of the deaths occurred in Martin’s territory, the suspect resided in Olde Town. Ari had the unhappy task of facing an inquiry on every incident.
Her hardest report was explaining the stabbing death at the Second Chance Saloon. It shouldn’t have happened, wouldn’t have, if the vamp had been the least bit rational. He had plenty of time to avoid the blade. The vampire, now identified as Lawrence, didn’t have the history or reputation of a troublemaker. And although Ari was convinced Lawrence had been affected by Fantasy, she had no proof. Some of the Council members would want more than a written report. Based on Andreas’s reaction, she expected Lucien, the vampire representative, would be especially difficult.
She made the reports as detailed as possible, and it was mid-afternoon when she delivered the documents to the Council’s clerk. He went away shaking his head, dismayed either by the size of the reports or the lateness of the hour. Whatever his concern, Ari knew each member would receive copies before the day was over. The Council would have plenty of time to read them prior to the weekly Friday meeting.
Finished with desk duty, she turned her thoughts back to the Canadian wolves. Talking to them became more urgent by the moment. While she worried that Andreas’s continued silence meant he’d withdrawn his pledge to help, she wasn’t ready to give up. She’d figured out how her original plan could work. If she waited outside the bar until the she-wolf left, then any discussion with her or arrest would not involve the club. To set it up, she still needed to talk with Andreas. So Ari decided to take the initiative. He sang at the club on Thursday nights. If she was standing in front of him, it would be hard for him to ignore her.
She called Claris and Brando. After a lot of fast-talking on her part, they agreed to join her for dinner. She suspected Claris gave in because she was afraid Ari would go alone if she didn’t.
* * *
Ari paid special attention to her attire. Green silk blouse to match her eyes, long black skirt with a slit to the knee, and spike heels. Not her usual jeans and casual top.
Brando started laughing when he saw her. “So there is a woman inside those jeans,” he said. “And you don’t intend to play fair with this guy. I see the plan.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a supper club. Isn’t this appropriate?”
Ari’s escapades had involved, and amused, Brando for as long as she could remember. He’d played Little John to her Robin Hood, always game for the next adventure. But Brando’s square, open face, carefree laugh, and jovial demeanor concealed a very serious side. Born into a family notable for its powerful wizards, Brando had dedicated most of his life to science. He’d written technical journals with titles Ari couldn’t pronounce. Tonight, however, he was that childhood sidekick again, prepared to be entertained, and his brown eyes twinkled as he escorted his companions through the entrance of Club Dintero.
Right away Ari noticed the visible security guard next to the door, a change from the night she interviewed Victor.
“Arms up, please,” the doorman intoned as the guard stepped forward and produced a security wand.
Ari’s eyes widened. At a supper club? What was the deal? She shook her head and stepped back, digging out her ID. Claris shook her head at her friend’s refusal. At least she was in a better mood, Ari thought. Claris and Brando followed instructions without protest. Just another unique experience to them.
When Ari produced the ID, the doorman scrutinized it with care before handing it back. “Guardian,” he acknowledged, his tone flat, impersonal. She felt a tension from him that hadn’t been there before. Maybe he didn’t like cops. Or maybe he remembered her first visit.
Once a hostess seated them, Ari turned her focus to the stage. The comedy duo drew friendly laughter, a good warm-up act. She expected Andreas to take the stage soon and looked forward to hearing him sing. Her plan was to snag him during a break.
When the comedy team continued through appetizers, entrées and even after-dinner drinks, it was clear Andreas wouldn’t show. Adding his absence to the increased scrutiny at the door, Ari started asking questions. When the waiter said he didn’t know why An
dreas wasn’t singing, she was more curious than before. She watched for Victor. Finally seeing him across the room, she caught his eye and motioned him over.
Victor gave Ari a blank face when she asked about Andreas and delivered a canned speech he must have used all night. “I apologize for the inconvenience,” he said, “Andreas was unexpectedly called away. If you return next week, I’m sure you will not be disappointed again.”
“I noticed the security. Has something happened? Where’d he go?”
Victor’s bland face hardened. “I believe it was personal. Now if you’ll excuse me?” He gave their table a too-polite smile and walked away.
Well, fine. She’d just been told it was none of her business. Fair enough. But nothing could have piqued her interest more.
“He’s Mr. Personality, isn’t he?” Claris laughed softly.
Ari didn’t care how Victor behaved, except she knew he was lying. An absent star performer. The security. The tension. She didn’t need witch senses to recognize trouble.
“Now what was that about?” she mused. “Andreas is tight with the vampire leader, Prince Daron. I wonder if there’s a problem at the court.”
“Vampire politics,” Brando offered. “I understand theirs are even messier than ours.”
Ari smiled, allowing Brando to distract her. His comment led to jokes about the latest foibles in Riverdale city politics. Speculation about the vampires was dropped, and after another drink, they ended the evening early.
As they left, Ari watched for Victor again. She still wanted to ask him about Angela and the drugs. He wasn’t around, but two additional security guards had been added to the front entry. Her witch senses stirred. Not just trouble, something really bad had happened, and Andreas was right in the middle of it. Ari wished she knew what it was.
The night ended on another down turn. A small white envelope had been slipped under her apartment door during the evening. Ari knew what it was before she opened it. An official summons to appear before tomorrow’s meeting of the Magic Council.
