by Lee Killough
Girimonte shrugged. “Who knows. No one’s been inside for months so she could have left any time.”
Fowler frowned. “But she had to be here for Knight’s murder. Isn’t there a chance that she did decamp last night, perhaps because she learned of Mikaelian’s presence...either by seeing him or from Holle. Shouldn’t we canvass to see if anyone saw anything in the last few nights?”
Harry and Girimonte stared at him. Her brows rose. “We?”
Fowler stopped short...flushed...smiled ruefully. “Oh, dear. Sorry. Call it a writer’s version of the Stockholm Syndrome...identifying with my research subjects.”
“Let’s hope you don’t plan on researching serial killers.”
“He’s right about the canvass, though,” Harry said. “Van, I’ll work this side of the street; you take the other. Garreth, you’re with me.”
They knocked on doors all the way along the block, with Garreth holding his breath at each, hoping for shaken heads. Not that he wished wasted effort on Harry, just for last night’s visit to have gone unnoticed. About half the time they found someone home, and a few of those individuals reported occurrences — a couple yelling at each other in the street three nights ago, a motorcycle owner sitting and gunning his engine for long periods several nights this week — but nothing last night. Where they found no one home Harry left a card, on the back of which he had Garreth write to call if they had seen or heard anything unusual or suspicious in the past week at or near Lane’s apartment.
They met back at Harry’s car.
Girimonte wore a feline smile. “Barber did it last night all right. A Mrs. Riniker saw a woman with long black hair carrying boxes to a car around midnight. She can’t say for certain whether the woman came from Barber’s building or the house next door. She just caught motion from the corner of her eye and there was the woman putting cartons in the trunk of a vehicle she can describe only as light colored with two doors. She was at the window hoping to catch the kid down the block who sits gunning his motorcycle engine forever before turning it off, so she could report him to the police. But no one in the house next door has long black hair and their vehicle is a Dodge Caravan.”
Thanks goodness for Lane’s wig.
Relief which soured at her whisper in his head, You were welcome to them, lover. Because every lie to humans sparks another flame on that precious bridge of yours. He only imagined her, he knew, but sometimes she voiced what he feared to think. Had she this time?
“So.” Girimonte raised a brow at Harry. “You think Holle knows how to reach her after all?”
“She could have contacted him after finding his note, and learned about Garreth.”
“Let’s ask him.”
“After lunch,” Harry said. “What do we want?”
“Not Chinese again.”
“I adore your American hamburgers,” Fowler said.
“Garreth?”
He shook his head at Harry. “Nothing for me.”
Girimonte’s eyes narrowed.
Harry frowned. “But you didn’t eat any breakfast.”
Garreth gut tightened at the way Girimonte’s eyes narrowed still more, feeling like they bored into him. Why? “Of course I did...that protein drink...but now I’m saving room for brats tonight.”
The radio in their car and a portable tucked into Girimonte’s shoulder bag crackled to life. “Inspectors five-five, call your office.”
With a last glance at Garreth, she rogered the call, then headed up the steps to Turner’s apartment.
Watching her, Fowler shook his head. “What you need is a mobile phone. The new ones are finally smaller than a breadbox, you know.”
“Just the size and weight of a brick,” Harry said.
Fowler shrugged. “A minor inconvenience I’ve found. And so will you.”
Harry grimaced. “Except hell will freeze over before the department ever springs for mobile phones.”
Girimonte came bounding back down the stairs. “Things have gotten interesting. Guess who’s contacted the ME’s office to claim Knight’s body when it’s released. Leonard Holle.”
Garreth heard Harry and Fowler echo his intake of breath. That made the second vampire body for Philos. Abigail Shaw had been an employee. What was Knight’s relationship?
“Now we really need another visit with him,” Harry said.
“Oh, yes.” Girimonte fairly purred. “I’ve already called and invited him down to the Hall. He’ll be there at one.”
Chapter Twenty
Holle fired the opening salvo as he took the visitor’s chair beside Harry’s desk and looked from Harry — leaning back in his swivel chair — to Girimonte on the other side. “Having been ‘invited’ down here, I assume today’s questions are of a more serious nature.” He ignored Garreth and Fowler, banished to observe from Girimonte’s desk behind him. “Do I need a lawyer?”
Girimonte propped a hip on Del Roth’s desk. “Do you feel you need one?” The question sounded almost accusatory.
The twitch of Holle’s shoulders looked like irritation, but it did not reflect in his voice. “I have nothing to hide. What do you need to know?”
Garreth stared at the back of Holle’s neck, considering ways to meet alone with him.
“We’re curious what your relationship to David Knight is,” Harry said.
Holle went still for a moment. Had the question caught him by surprise? “David was a valued member of our Philos Chapter...a contributor of not just money but time. He played for at least one benefit a year. Which I could have told you yesterday if you had mentioned the actual name of Miss Garrett’s alleged latest victim.”
Girimonte’s eyes narrowed. “Alleged?”
Holle’s voice flattened. “As someone who still believes in innocent until proven guilty, yes, alleged victim. While I don’t know Miss Garrett, I can’t think of any reason why she would kill him. Or why anyone would kill him. He was a gentleman and humane soul.”
Really? A vampire with a humane soul?
But as soon as the thought formed, Garreth berated himself for it. After insisting to Lane that vampires had the same choice between good and evil as humans did, and humans were not mere prey...what conceit to think he was the only one trying to practice that. What he heard at Afterglow did not sound as if Knight victimized his one night stands. He gave them pleasure and sent them away contented.
“Which is why you’re claiming the body?” Harry said.
“That and the fact he has no family to bury and honor him.”
“But you didn’t contact the medical examiner until today,” Girimonte said.
“Because,” Holle said, an edge on his voice, “I wasn’t aware he’d been killed until last night, when house guests came in and said they’d been to Afterglow after the opera, expecting to hear David play, and learned why he wasn’t. News of his murder didn’t rate enough mention in the Chronicle for me to read about it.”
Fowler said, “You also claimed the body of Abigail Shaw in 1979.”
Harry’s brows rose. “Who?”
“Another of our members...who had no living family either. As a humanitarian organization, we believe in practicing compassion in-house as well.” Holle shifted toward Girimonte. “I could have given you this information on the phone earlier.”
Straight-faced, she said, “Except a development has arisen since then. Do you still maintain you don’t know how to contact Michaela Garrett?”
“Maintain?” Garreth heard Holle taste the accusation in the word. “What I told you before has not changed. I don’t know how to reach her.” He stated it slowly, emphatically.
“She hasn’t contacted you?”
“No. Why?”
“Because a few hours after we talked to you, she sneaked in and cleaned out her personal effects,” Harry said. “You can see how we might think you told her about our interest in her.”
After a pause, Holle nodded. “I can understand your suspicion. However, I had nothing to do with her depart
ure.”
Girimonte shifted on the desk. “Can you vouch for all your staff as well, at Philos and your house? What about the woman who admitted us yesterday?”
Holle’s voice went stiff. “The favor for Mr. Steiner was personal, nothing to do with Philos and I have never even mentioned Miss Garrett to Ms. Kriss, my housekeeper. Isn’t it more likely Miss Garrett observed Mr. Mikaelian’s visit or learned of it through her landlord?” He pushed to his feet. “I can’t think of anything more to help you and I need to return to my office. If you have more questions, my attorney will be present.” He headed for the door.
Garreth’s mind raced. This might be his only chance to set up something with Holle. He stooped to the floor and pretended to pick up something beside Holle’s chair, then hurried after the man.
“Mr. Holle. You dropped this.” Catching up at the door to the outer office he dropped his voice. “I need to talk to you privately. Can I come to the house later?”
Holle shook his head. “I’m not the one you need to talk to. Come by the foundation. We’ll put you in touch with someone to help you deal with— ”
“I need to talk to you. To find out about this danger worrying Irina.”
Holle stiffened. His mouth tightened and his voice hardened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t help you.” Swinging away, he hurried out.
Conscious of Leyva watching over the counter in the outer office, Garreth let him go and returned to Harry’s desk.
All of them eyed him curiously. “What was that about?” Harry asked. “I didn’t see him drop anything.”
Garreth thought fast. “He didn’t. I just wanted to ask a question...not related to this case,” he added as Girimonte’s eyes sharpened. “Thurlow got me all curious about anatomical oddities Abigail Shaw and Knight shared. I was curious whether they were related. I thought Holle might know. He says he doesn’t.”
“His expression looked more hostile than I’d expect answering that question,” Girimonte said.
Garreth gave them a shrug. “I guess I pushed some hot button.”
“Or you actually asked another question.”
The phone on Harry’s desk rang.
He answered, listened, and hung up sighing. “Let’s roll. A woman’s come off Lutz Towers in Pacific Heights.”
Chapter Twenty-one
The case occupied the rest of the afternoon. Grateful as Garreth was to have attention focused away from Holle and him, the cause thoroughly depressed him...an attractive young woman, successful — about to make junior partner in her law firm — and a new mother. Who, statements from neighbors, the baby’s nursemaid, and the distraught husband strongly indicated, jumped from the balcony of her fifteenth floor apartment in the depths of postpartum depression.
Suicide made it the ME’s case, so after punting it to him, they all looked forward to forgetting the tragedy at Harry’s cookout.
In that respect the party succeeded...despite threatening rain that had everyone wearing moisture repellant jackets. Harry appeared to have invited most of the investigations bureau, though it was hard to tell with guests spread from the driveway at street level to the deck garden on top of the garage — where Evelyn’s husband had set up his grill — to the wide front porch overlooking it and the back patio via the steep stairs up past the side of the house. Fowler clearly enjoyed it, all smiles, eyes missing nothing. Garreth imagined a recorder whirling in the writer’s head: making notes on dress and behavior, following Del Roth’s heavy-handed “joking” with Cory Yonning’s wife about the therapeutic value of adultery, capturing details of family and department gossip, and memorizing war stories he overhead or elicited from the detectives.
Garreth earned repeated double-takes as he wandered with a beer and plate of brats and beans, identifying himself each time he met a where do I know this guy from expression. Away from the job and mellowed by food and alcohol, everyone stayed cordial, minus the grins and backslapping with which they might have greeted another visiting ex-colleague.
But the resulting conversations played out in a monotonous echo of one another. Yes he really was Mikaelian; yes the weight loss did make him look different — oh, younger, too?; no just visiting; yes still on the job...recruited to a Kansas department after meeting its chief on a hunting trip. When mention of Kansas clicked in his fellow cops’ heads, they wanted to know all the details of Frank and Lyle Danner’s capture.
His version passed off the driving without lights as possible because of moonlight and the takedown because his eyes were dark adapted while driving with headlights left Danner virtually blind outside his vehicle. Even so Garreth caught expressions on his listeners doubting the sanity of an unarmed charge from the dark at an armed killer. And from the corner of his eye he noticed Girimonte watching him. So as the noise level of the party turned painful for vampire hearing and blood scents battered him, especially in the back away from the grill smells, Garreth longed to quit smiling and escape somewhere quiet.
Finally he found a corner at the far end of the front porch, partially hidden by tall potted plants. After emptying beer into one of the pots, he sat against the rail wrapped in his windbreaker, back to the house, holding the empty bottle and gazing east over the misty lights of the city, puzzling over Holle’s reaction to him this afternoon.
For a supposed friend to vampires who had been so polite the day before, Holle had turned almost hostile at the suggestion of meeting with him. Mentioning Irina triggered it. Why? And why did Holle deny knowing her?
And what about that suggestion before the hostility. Was it an offer of vampire mentoring? Assuming so, the idea of such a service being necessary chilled Garreth. Surely newbie vampires were rare in the world. He hoped...for the sake of humans. Considering, in addition, that Philos employed at least one vampire, had another as a valued member, went to the trouble of claiming their bodies, and was an organization Irina urged Lane to join...it raised the question of exactly what kind of organization Philos was.
Even in the face of hostility, he had to talk to Holle. The question was where and when.
Girimonte’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Ah, there you are, Mikaelian. I’ve been hunting all over for you.” She stepped around the potted plants and held out a plate. “You set this down while you were talking to Hal Loewen and forgot it.”
Hunting him? The way she had been watching, he doubted much “hunting” had been necessary.
He set his beer bottle on the porch and took the plate. “Thank you.” And waited for her to walk away.
Instead, she leaned against another section of railing with her back to the view, sipping a beer. “Kolb and her husband have a nice place.”
Making small talk with him? What was her game? “Ian is a very successful software designer.” He had taken the brats without buns because cutting them up with a fork gave the illusion of eating them. As he continued cutting them into even smaller pieces, he saw her watch. “Is there a Mister Girimonte?” he asked to distract her. “Harry’s never said.”
Her gaze remained on the plate. “Even when there was a mister, his name wasn’t Girimonte.”
Neither half of that statement surprised him.
Abruptly she looked up to meet his eyes. “Why did you come out here?”
An echo of his conversation with Serruto. “Because Harry invited me. Because you wanted bait for Lane.”
She stared so hard at him he felt naked and wished he wore his glasses. “It’s interesting you call her by her first name. Is that because you think about her so much you feel...close?”
He made himself stare back. “You think I’m obsessed?”
Her voice went thoughtful. “I don’t know. Now. The first time I saw you, you were wound tight...tensing at Barber’s name like she might jump out at you. That changed after Harry took you to her apartment. There’s still plenty of tension in you, but not about Barber. What did you see when you broke into her apartment that you’re keeping to yourself?”
&
nbsp; That came so close he felt the bullet sting his ear, but he held his gaze steady. “I didn’t break into her apartment.” Technically. “It’s just after hearing how long it’s been since her landlord’s seen her, I don’t think she’s anywhere near San Francisco.”
“Despite Knight’s murder?”
“I’ve already said I don’t believe she killed him.”
“Then who do you think cleaned out her apartment last night?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” Having ready answers for everything aroused cop suspicions.
Maybe that one did, too. Her eyes narrowed. “I wonder. I got the impression, despite your act, that you weren’t surprised by it...or even cared.” She paused to take another swallow of beer. “Harry didn’t see that, of course. To him you’re still his trusted old partner and he’ll buy any bullshit you hand out. Like you were just asking Holle about kinship between Knight and that women Holle claimed for burial. It had to be more than that for him to come back at you with so much heat.”
“Or he was pissed off at being questioned again and took it out on me since I’m a safer target than the official cops.”
She sniffed. “Maybe...or maybe you’re just giving me another glib answer covering your personal agenda here.”
That hit Garreth’s gut with the force of a fist. He casually stirred the brats and bean with his fork. “If Lane isn’t involved here, what agenda could that be?”
“You keep saying she isn’t involved but do you believe that or just want us to think you do? Sooner or later you’ll give yourself away, just like you’ve done there.” She pointed at his plate.
“What?” He stared down at it, suddenly feeling as if he held a bomb.
She gave him her feline smile. “You skipped lunch despite having no breakfast. In order to leave room for the brats and burgers tonight, you said. But since I’ve brought you the plate you ‘absent-mindedly’ left, you haven’t taken a single bite...just chopped and stirred with your fork, thinking it’ll keep me from noticing you aren’t eating anything. That you haven’t eaten anything all evening.” Her voice hardened. “It hasn’t worked. I’ve seen it all before. All the tricks. Heard all the excuses. I’m busy and will eat later; I’ve already eaten; I caught a bite on the way here; I’ve been snitching bites in the kitchen.”
