Then she called Alex to update him.
“I need to borrow your phone,” were his first words to her.
“Good morning to you too,” she replied a little tartly.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been waiting to speak to a professor in Germany who can help us with the grimoire but after your little revelation last night I’m reluctant to use my phone.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m a little grouchy this morning. I’ll tell you what, give me your phone numbers and I’ll have them all designated as mine on our system so they won’t be listened to.”
He gave her his landline and mobile numbers and asked her to come over as soon as she could. Frankie logged onto the GCHQ computer and amended her personal details to include his numbers. Five new messages popped into her inbox from Alex’s numbers. They were all unread (so far) so she deleted them immediately.
She drove back to the club and parked in the rear car park where she saw a valet cleaning her car. She’d looked in the window herself this morning and cursed the light upholstery in the car. She didn’t understand why Alex was letting a stranger clean it.
She grabbed the case file from the passenger seat and headed towards the club. The valet smiled grimly as she approached him. “This your car?” he asked.
Frankie’s nod was somewhat hesitant.
“I'm sorry to hear about your dog; awful way to go, car accident. Damn drivers need to take more care, if you ask me.”
Frankie almost smiled with relief but managed to keep her expression neutral. “At least he’s not suffering anymore.”
“No, no, right.” At this point he seemed to run out of platitudes. “I’ll be done shortly. I’ll post the keys through the letter box.”
“Thank you. What about the bill?”
“Mr Alex has already paid it, Ma’am.”
“Oh, right, thank you.”
There was a key for the front door with his car keys but she didn’t feel she knew him well enough to use it yet. She knocked like a good visitor should and though he answered the door with a phone pressed to his ear, he gave her a winning smile.
Frankie followed him into his study where he sat behind the desk and held up one finger to let her know he wouldn’t be long.
It sounded to Frankie like he was speaking German and he sounded pretty fluent. She waited patiently until he hung up.
“You speak German?” she asked.
He grinned. “I did my part for my country during World War Two.”
“You were a spy?”
“I suppose. Anyway, that was Klaus Habsburg, he’s a professor at the library where the original grimoire is kept and his coven has been keeping it safe for decades.”
“Will he help us?”
“He is reticent about giving the information to a vampire but I told him to look up the murders on the Internet. Once he has proof I believe he’ll be much more cooperative.”
“Did he give you anything useful?”
“Actually, yes. We’ve been wrong about the symbols at the crime scenes. One of those symbols is genuine and is being used to open a doorway for the demon.”
“Then why bother with the rest?”
“Misdirection. If only one symbol was left at each scene it wouldn’t take the police very long to find out what it meant. Leaving a dozen or more diverts attention away from the important symbol and allows the killer to continue with impunity.”
“So how do we know which symbol is the important one?”
“Klaus says it will always be close to the body so we compare photographs and hope we can narrow it down. If I email the symbol to him, Klaus will be able to tell us which demon he’s calling and if there’s anything we can do to stop him.”
Frankie nodded. “It’s a start.”
“How was the new crime scene?”
“Brutal. I need to go back there later tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because the victim isn’t quite gone.”
“You mean…?”
“She’s a ghost.”
“So what will you do when you go back?”
“Try and convince her to cross over.”
“Do you have much experience of that?”
Frankie shrugged. “Some.”
“Much success?”
Frankie grimaced, “About 50/50.” She looked guilty. “Look, it’s not as easy as it sounds, okay? They can be trapped here for any number of reasons and they aren’t always into sharing. Plus, in case you hadn't noticed, I’m not exactly great at the ‘people skills’ stuff.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I wasn’t judging.”
Frankie sighed. “No, it’s not your fault.”
“Do you want a coffee?” he asked, heading towards the kitchen.
Frankie followed him. “That sounds good.”
“Are there many ghosts?” he asked, hoping to distract her.
“Not true ghosts. There are different types. Most are just really strong psychic impressions and more sensitive people can see those impressions like I do. Trapped souls are much rarer but I suppose I’ve encountered a dozen or so.”
“Why are they here? Unfinished business?”
Frankie smiled. “You watch too much TV. The reasons vary; sometimes they have unfinished business or want revenge but mostly they either don’t want to leave their family or they die so fast they get confused. Some don’t realise they’re dead, or don’t want to.”
Alex had a proper coffee machine and ground beans. The machine was in red enamel and looked like something from the 50’s.
“You drink coffee?” Frankie asked.
“No, but I like the smell so I sometimes make it. It’s quite nice to have an excuse to make it,” he grinned at her. “Latte?”
“You have milk?”
“No, but the bar does. I'll be right back.”
He dashed past her and through a door in the hallway. Frankie had assumed that door housed a cupboard, not a staircase. He was back moments later, milk in hand.
Frankie realised he wasn’t censoring his pace in front of her and while the speed was a little disconcerting it also felt good to feel so trusted by him.
“Would you like me to come with you tonight?” he asked as he heated the milk.
“Please. I’m not sure I can get in on my own.”
“Then of course I shall.” He handed her the latte. “Did you get a name for the victim?”
“Kate Redman; is she one of your customers?”
Alex expression had frozen.
“Alex?”
“Kate is my bar manager. Oh no.”
He sat at the kitchen table and Frankie took a seat beside him.
“She still works here?” Frankie asked.
Alex nodded.
Frankie realised this was bad, it meant that there was no way the police could miss Dante’s this time. Would they want to talk to her employer?
Alex looked shell-shocked and Frankie tried to snap him out of it. “I haven’t seen her here,” she told him.
“She had a few days off,” he said, looking at the table rather than Frankie. “She and her father take it in turns to look after her mother who has early onset Alzheimer’s. That’s why Kate works nights, because her father’s home to take of her mother. But her father had a conference or training course or something, Kate took a few evenings off so she could be at home while he was away.”
“Were you close?”
“Not especially, but I’d known her for years. She was a genuinely nice person, and when you’ve seen as much of the downside of humanity as I have, you’ll understand just how rare that is.”
She placed her hand over his. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
Frankie hesitated for a moment before reminding him, “They’ll probably want to speak to you.”
For the first time he looked up at her and she could almost see him forcing his emotions down.
“You’re right,” he sounded business like
now. He stood up and headed to the study where he’d seen Frankie leave the case file. “We’d better go through these photographs before they drag me away, kicking and screaming.” He was trying to make light of the situation but his tone of voice gave him away.
Frankie couldn't determine whether it was grief or fear she heard but she found that she was afraid for him. If the police discovered what he was… she didn’t pursue that thought; it was too horrible to contemplate. She chose instead the same distraction he did and when he returned with the case file she pulled out her laptop and loaded the pictures from the first two crime scenes.
“You need some sleep, boss,” Detective Sergeant Wilson said. “You look beat.”
“I haven’t got time. Is that the forensics?” he nodded towards a file Wilson was holding.
“Preliminary pathologist’s report.” He handed it over. “Needless to say they put a rush on it but it looks exactly the same as the others. Nothing new yet.”
“Any word on the prints found at the scene?” he asked as he opened the folder and scanned the front page.
“They’re a match for those at the other scenes.”
Will sighed and closed the file. He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Serial killers don’t just start one day, they work up to it. How did this guy avoid the system?”
“Interpol’s checking for us but he might not be on their radar either.”
“There has to be something between the victims, something that links them.”
“They’re all under twenty six.”
“But that’s all. Different heights, builds, hair colour. If he’s choosing randomly, the victims usually follow a type. Plus there’s no sexual assault, he’s getting off on killing them, not their appearance… Why them?”
Wilson wished he had some answers. Will was facing pressure from every angle, the press, his bosses, not to mention he was a good man and felt a personal responsibility to the victims and their families. Wilson wished he could be more help.
Will sat up. “Okay, find someone to go through the background info on all the victims with a fine tooth comb. I want school, college, work and financial histories. I want to know what hobbies they had as children, what colour their bedding is and where they buy their shampoo.”
“I’m on it, Boss.”
Wilson rushed off and Will looked at his phone. He was tempted to call Frankie again, beg for her help if necessary but part of him knew it was a waste of time. She wouldn’t betray what she knew unless she had to, meaning Will needed some more information before he confronted her again. Something to rattle her, a reason for her to trust him.
He very carefully avoided thinking of the man who had answered her phone this morning. That was a can of worms that should stay firmly closed.
Alex and Frankie had it narrowed down to three possible symbols. One was rather curly and ornate, like wrought iron gates used to look. One was two squares inside each other and had symbols running through the border. The final symbol was an eye in a pyramid, like the one used on American currency and often associated with Masonic societies.
All three were at the bottom of the wall at both scenes, out of the eye line and therefore where attention wouldn’t be drawn to them and all three were close to the bodies at the first two scenes.
The newest crime scene photos which might have narrowed the possibilities further, hadn’t been uploaded. Frankie hoped researching all three wasn’t too hard for Professor Habsburg.
Frankie sent the pictures to the professor using the email address he’d given Alex.
“I hope he’s fast,” she muttered.
Alex didn’t reply; he had been thinking how to broach this subject with Frankie because he had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.
“I think I need to see your police friend.” There was no ‘think’ about it but it seemed nicer to phrase it that way.
“You can’t risk it. I’ll keep him away.”
“How? When the connection to my bar is discovered I will become prime suspect. I don’t see you being able to protect me.”
“I will. He doesn’t know we’re involved so I can just move you to a safe house until this is over.”
Alex swallowed back a stab of irritation. “First of all, he already has my name, he asked me when I answered your phone this morning and I saw no reason to lie. Second, I have looked after myself for seven hundred years, Frankie, I am quite capable of handling this myself.”
Frankie looked irritated. “You gave him your name? Great! Now he’s going to think I’m lying to protect you.”
“Isn’t that what you just proposed, lying to him about my whereabouts to protect me?”
“It’s not the same thing.” She took a deep breath trying to formulate a new plan.
“Frankie, I will be fine. I have dealt with police officers before and I’m still here to tell the tale.”
“Will is… different. He won’t take no for an answer and he’ll already be suspicious because you’re involved with me.”
Alex leaned forward over the table and looked into her eyes. They darkened to a midnight blue again and although she ignored it, Frankie felt the pull of his power. “I assure you he won’t. Your friend will think I’m a model citizen.”
Frankie’s jaw dropped. “You can’t vamp him!”
“Of course I can,” her reaction annoyed him. “It’s only you who is immune.”
“I mean it’s not right. You can’t do that to him. I won’t let you.”
Alex’s laugh was a little strained. “It doesn’t hurt, Frankie, and I assure you he will come to no harm.”
“It’s not right!” Frankie argued, not sure why the idea upset her so much.
“It’s better than killing him, which is my other option.” He was just being mean now. Her unreasonable defence (as he saw it) was angering him.
Frankie drew back from him. “You wouldn’t.” her voice was hard.
Alex simply raised an eyebrow and gave her a cold smile. “You forget, my dear, I am a monster. His death would be regrettable but far preferable to my own exposure.”
Frankie got up and headed through to his living room. He followed her and watched as she poured a large whisky and drank it down in one gulp.
“Better?” he asked from the doorway.
Frankie didn’t reply or turn to face him. She grabbed the bar with both hands and her knuckles turned white.
Alex sighed. “I didn’t mean it, Frankie.” He stepped up behind her. “I just wanted you to see reason.”
“You would kill him if you had to though, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
“If I had to, yes. But I don’t kill for pleasure, Frankie, only necessity.” He wanted to put his hands on her shoulders but she was too stiff at the moment, she would only throw off his touch.
He went to the box of cigars and pulled one out, clipping and lighting it. He offered it to her.
Frankie looked at the cigar as if it had personally offended her but her desire for the nicotine overrode her anger. She took it from him and her posture relaxed somewhat but the atmosphere was still tense. The silence stretched on between them.
“Is it because I’m a woman?” Frankie finally asked. When Alex looked perplexed she continued, “That you don’t want me protecting you?”
Alex smiled. “No. If anything it’s because you’re a human, or mostly human but really it’s because this can be handled very simply. I fail to see why you don’t want that.”
“So it’s racism, not sexism,” she replied, ignoring the second half of his statement. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
“Only when I’m right.”
“And I suppose you’re the only one who knows that?”
Frankie glared at him, showing him she didn’t appreciate his sarcasm and she wasn’t backing down.
“Very well. We must still speak with your detective so why don’t you arrange an appointment
for after dark.” He reasoned it would be better to show her why she was wrong. As long as Alex was there he could still vamp the detective and undo any damage she caused.
“Why not now? He could come here during the day.”
“Because it’s late in the day and I haven’t slept yet.” He looked at his watch. “I should rise again in four hours. If the professor calls before that, wake me, if not, I’ll see you at six.”
Frankie realised she hadn't noticed how tired he looked. He had large purple smudges under his eyes and his whole manner was slightly slower than usual. She’d slept the night away while he’d been working and she felt a little guilty for her outburst. Not that that would make her back down.
He headed for the hallway. “Oh and make yourself comfortable. Mi casa es su casa.” He half expected she would be gone when he awoke but he hoped not. Perhaps her protective streak would keep her here, watching over him.
And perhaps not. Only time would tell if her pride was more important than her feelings for him.
“Boss, I might have found something,” Wilson said as he rushed into Will’s office.
Will looked expectant and, Wilson would almost swear, hopeful.
“The most recent victim Kate Redman, she worked at a nightclub called Dante’s.” He handed over her employment records for Will to check. “Then I looked back over Sylvia Fornham’s employment record and found she worked there a few years ago,” he handed over a second sheet of paper.
“Any link to the first victim?” Will asked.
“Not that I can find. I called her mother but she had no knowledge of where her daughter and her friends hung out. I haven’t been able to reach her friends yet.”
“It’s a place to start. What have you found out about the club?”
“It’s a gothic place, attracts the black eyeliner crowd, you know. It opened about six years ago in the Grassmarket. It’s owned by Alexander McNabb and it has a website if you want to take a look.
“Alexander McNabb?” Will asked.
“Yeah. That name mean something to you?”
The name Alex McNabb certainly did. It couldn’t be a coincidence, he didn’t believe in them. Assuming Frankie had found this connection and also Alexander McNabb, why hadn't she told him? And why was Alex answering her phone?
Past Due Page 11
