by Kallysten
Brett gave the detectives’ badges a second look. Sure enough, they were both engraved with the insignia of the police vampire department. He tensed. That department's only purpose was to solve killings attributed to vampires.
"I'm sad to hear,” he said grimly. “Anything I can help you with?"
Since the opening of the club, he had done everything to advertise it as a safe place for humans and vampires to come together, while Lisa had gone around the vampire community to proffer both warnings and invitations. The security was in the hands of two vampires and three humans, including one who had some training as a Special Enforcer. They kept a tight eye on the customers from the time the club opened to the closing hour, and there had been no incident since opening.
Without saying a word, Ritter produced a picture from inside his jacket. It was Carson who answered. The Polaroid reflected the overhead light for an instant, shining brightly.
"The girl—her name was Paula Widworth—was found this morning, a block away from here. Drained. Have you ever seen her?"
Brett took the picture and made himself look at the dead woman. Brown-haired and pale, she could have looked as though she had been sleeping if not for the bloody wound on her throat. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five. He was sure he had never seen her before, and he said as much. He held out the picture toward John, who took it and shook his head lightly as he handed it back to Ritter.
"Many young men and women come here every night,” John said, a note of pride in his voice, “and they go home safely. Me and my team make sure they do."
With a nod, Brett agreed. “Do you have any indication that she came to the club? There are other bars and clubs in the area."
The men exchanged a quick glance, and there was some kind of “I told you so” in that wordless exchange. Brett wondered which of them was most convinced that they would find their killer amongst the club's patrons.
"Of course,” Carson said with a cold smile. “But the closest blood bar, as I'm sure you know, is almost three blocks away."
Although he didn't respond, Brett understood a little better what was going on. They had no reason to think the death was related to On The Edge other than that the poor girl's body had been found close by.
"We would like to see your security tapes."
Brett grimaced. He would have wanted nothing more than to show such tapes to the police. Instead, he knew that what he would tell them would only make them more suspicious.
"They're not installed yet. We're having problems with the wiring. By code, we can't have exposed wires, but the whole club is reinforced concrete and—"
"Save it, Mr. Andrews. We don't want to hear it. What we do want is a list of who was working last night."
John stepped forward, bristling like a cat doused in water.
"You think one of us—"
"Well, some of them are vampires, aren't they?” Carson cut in, raising an eyebrow, “We're just doing our job. Right now all we want is to ask them if they saw the girl."
"And they will cooperate,” Brett said before John could argue again. “If there is a link to On The Edge, we want the killer caught. And if there isn't one, we want the club cleared of any suspicions."
"Of course.” Ritter's grin was sharp as broken glass. “This is all routine, you understand. Nothing personal."
"Of course,” Brett repeated, though he found it hard to believe.
A few days after the opening of the club, he had received a visit from several concerned policemen, and they had made it clear what they thought of On The Edge. According to them, a place where humans and vampires openly mingled couldn't possibly be good for anyone. They had predicted that it was only a matter of time before murders were linked to the club, and promised to have him shut down when it happened. Brett was actually a little surprised it had taken them this long to come investigate the club.
"John, would you mind giving these gentlemen a list of the employees?"
"Sure thing, boss."
John strode to his office. Ritter followed him after a nod to his partner.
"Since we're alone, Mr. Andrews ... Mind telling me where you were last night, between ten and three?"
Carson's question took Brett aback. He wasn't a vampire, so he couldn't possibly be a suspect. He answered nonetheless, frowning slightly.
"In my apartment."
At once, Carson's eyes flickered toward the door that led to the loft. Brett wondered how he knew where Brett lived.
"Alone?"
The word could have been casual, but combined with that sharp look, it was anything but. Brett was beginning to see where this was going. He couldn't believe he hadn't understood faster.
"I had company."
"Your ... lady friend?"
"Yes. My lady friend. I see you've done your research."
Carson smiled. “Not really research. I just happen to read the gossip page in Haventown Times. She's a very pretty vampire."
It was a struggle for Brett to keep his face smooth and not clench his fists. “She is a very pretty woman."
The correction didn't escape Carson, and his smile tightened until it was almost mocking.
"I didn't mean any offense by that. I work in the vampire squad, Mr. Andrews. It doesn't mean I have anything against vamps. It just means I don't much like vampires killing people. What they do when they don't kill isn't my business."
It was somewhat hard to believe, but if the man wanted to pretend, Brett could play the game.
"Not your business unless it's in the people column, you mean?"
Carson laughed. “To every man his vice."
The words could have referred to Carson's habit of reading badly written and ill-informed gossip columns that always made Lisa roll her eyes, but somehow Brett was sure the targets were Lisa and him. If she was his vice, what did that mean about the two of them?
The sound of footsteps announced the return of John and Ritter. Brett forced himself to turn toward them, his eyes glancing at the papers in Ritter's hand.
"Anything else, detectives?” he asked, his voice colder than it had been earlier.
The two detectives conferred with a few silent looks. “Not for now. Maybe once we've talked to your people."
With quiet goodbyes, they left. John accompanied them back to the service door and locked it behind them before returning to Brett, an eyebrow raised as though he were expecting orders. Brett let out a deep breath and tried to rein in his frustration. Everything was possible and the victim may have met her killer at On The Edge, but after hearing Carson's remarks, Brett had a feeling that what had brought the detectives here was more disapproval of the mere existence of the club rather than actual evidence.
He shook his head to clear his mind and focused back on John. “I know I don't need to ask you to keep your eyes open."
John snorted. “Glad you're not insulting me."
Relaxing a little, Brett managed a tight smile. “I wouldn't dream of it. If you or the others see anything unusual tonight, anything even remotely strange, I want to be the second to hear about it."
A blink was John's only sign of surprise. He didn't ask, but it was clear that he was wondering what Brett meant by that, and waiting to hear it. That was one thing Brett liked about the man; he knew when to ask questions, and when to simply wait for the answers to come to him.
"You call the police first. I won't give them any excuse to close us."
That seemed to satisfy John, and for the first time since the police's arrival the tension withdrew from his face. “Good call, boss."
"Happy you approve. I'll tell the staff before we open tonight. Remind me if I forget.” Brett started in the direction of the office, but stopped after only a couple of steps and turned back to John. “Have you heard from Tech Systems since their last call?"
John's grimace was answer enough. “No. And I think my cousin's been avoiding me. I'm sorry I ever recommended him to you."
"Not your fault. I'll light a fir
e beneath his feet, see if it helps. We need those cameras up and running."
They walked to the office together. The door, near the one that led upstairs, opened on a space that made up for its lack of windows by being very spacious. The first desk in the front room was John's. A glass partition in the back could open and make Brett's desk part of the entire room, or, with the flick of a button, Venetian blinds could seal it off completely from the main space. Lisa was particularly fond of those blinds and of the privacy they offered.
Stepping behind his desk, Brett picked up the phone and dialed the number scribbled on a sticky note in the center of his desk. He wished now he had made this call the day before. He counted six rings before someone finally picked up.
"Hello. This is Brett Andrews from—"
"On The Edge,” an unctuous voice interrupted him. “How are you, Mr. Andrews?"
Glancing up, Brett discovered John leaning against the glass and listening in; he pushed the conference button on the phone and set the receiver back on its cradle.
"Right now, I'd be much better if I had video cameras installed around my establishment. You know, those same cameras you promised me would be here last week."
Panic replaced eagerness in the voice that now filled the room. “Yes, of course. Our special shipment hasn't been delivered yet, but I expect it within a couple of days."
Brett couldn't help but roll his eyes. “You said the same thing ten days ago. When I gave you that advance, I was led to believe you were one of the best in town. I am seriously doubting that right now."
"It'll be installed by Saturday, Mr. Andrews. No later, I can promise you that."
A look at John to see what he thought of his cousin's promise revealed nothing. Brett decided that a small threat could only help to get his message across.
"And I can promise you I'll be your worst P.R. nightmare if you don't deliver. The town's paper has been waiting to interview me for weeks. I'm sure they'd love to hear how your company puts my customers at risk."
Brett hung up without a goodbye.
"Do you really think that?” John asked at once. “Do you think the club would be safer with cameras filming everything?"
"No.” Brett held his gaze until John nodded. “I think you and the other guards are enough, and I think the vamps who come here are clever enough to realize it's not in their interest to kill my customers. But if the police go public with their suspicions and we can't explain why we don't have even the most basic electronic security system, the press will burn us at the stake."
All he could hope for now was that nothing happened before Saturday.
* * * *
The key clicked softly in the lock. Leo rested his hand on the handle, but did not push the door open quite yet, savoring the moment instead.
"You don't need an invitation, you know."
Her back to the wall, Lisa was watching him with amusement sparkling in her eyes.
"Just trying to remember when I last called a place home,” he tried to explain.
Her amusement faded to something much softer. “Think you will here?"
Leo had no answer to give her, not yet. A day earlier, all he had wanted to find in Haventown was a job. He had that now, but he had also been offered much more. Maybe it was too much, too fast. Maybe it was simply what he needed.
He opened the door and entered, flicking the lights on as he did. The same rich ochre color that made Brett and Lisa's loft feel so warm greeted him. The layout was similar but on a smaller scale. The living room held only a sofa, the same model that he had found so uncomfortable in the other apartment; that would definitely need to be replaced. There was no television, and the waist-high bookshelf held no books. It would have bothered him more if he intended to spend a lot of time alone. As it was, he didn't think he would need a lot of distraction.
"Do you like it?"
He flashed Lisa a grin. “Of course I like it. It's mine."
He moved on into the kitchenette. There were only a couple of cupboards and a breakfast bar with two stools. The countertop next to the sink was just large enough for a small microwave. He opened the fridge, a little disappointed to find it completely empty.
"I'll get you a few bags from my stash,” Lisa said behind him. “And I'll tell you where you can buy your own, if you plan on bagging it."
Turning just in time to see her walk out of the apartment, he thought about it for a moment. He had fed from bagged blood before, but he much preferred to take blood from a human. He didn't know a vampire who would choose bagged blood if given a choice between that and a willing donor.
Lisa returned as he stepped out of the kitchenette, and he nodded to her before walking into the bedroom. It had no door; instead, it opened on the living room with a large, arched doorway. The bed behind it was simple, a double-sized mattress on a dark wooden frame that matched the two dressers.
"There are sheets in the drawer. Want help making the bed?"
He accepted Lisa's offer, and they were soon each on one side of the bed, pulling at the navy blue, heavy cotton sheets to make them lie smooth and tight on the mattress. When he glanced up, Lisa was looking at him thoughtfully.
"So, when did you discover you had a talent for bartending?"
He let out a quiet laugh. “I'm not sure if it was when I got tired of playing bodyguard to a spoiled brat who thought she could act or when I was fired from being a bouncer because I accepted a patron's offer to take her blood."
"They had no right to fire you because of that."
Her reaction—her outrage—surprised Leo. He had not believed she would be so naïve as to think the laws that were supposed to protect vampires from discrimination could not be broken. Then again, she had told him she had remained in Haventown for all these years. The city was friendlier to vampires than most.
"Right or not, they fired me. I also had a stint as a stripper for a while."
Her eyes lit up at that, but the teasing he expected didn't come.
"I got into bartending at the strip club, a bit by accident. I never was gifted as you are at creating opportunities."
She smiled, shaking her head as she sat on the edge of the bed, her body turned toward him. “I'm not gifted. I made a few good investments, and that gave me enough money to help out Brett when I met him. I was lucky, that's all."
There was a softness to her voice when she talked about Brett that intrigued Leo. He had heard it the previous night but thought he was imagining it then. After all, it had been years since he had heard her voice. But the more he listened, the more he heard that strange tone. He kicked out his shoes and lay down on his side on the bed to look at her.
"That's funny. Brett said he was lucky when he met you."
She didn't reply to that, but lay down too, mirroring his position but staying far enough away that they didn't touch.
"You've never bitten him,” Leo remarked.
She shrugged, the movement odd in her position. “He's my lover, not my food."
"You never had a problem with feeding on your lovers before. Or sleeping with your food."
She shifted her body, sliding toward Leo until there was just a hand between them, if not less. She then whispered in a tone of great confidence: “I must be getting old."
They laughed together at that. It was good to feel as close to her as he once had. He threw an arm over her waist, drawing her just a little closer still, and his laughter died in his throat.
"You know, I had hoped, deep down, that you'd still be here when I returned. I hoped, but I never imagined you really would be."
Her lips were soft; their kiss, even softer. It lasted for no more than a second, but it was enough. Lisa caressed his cheek with the tips of her fingers when she drew back. Even after so many years, the touch felt familiar and comforting. “I'm glad you came back."
Chapter 4
The afternoon passed quickly for Brett; it always did when he worked. With the club still being so new, the list of things he had to do n
ever seemed to shrink, regardless of how many hours he spent working every day.
In the past few hours, he had drafted the contracts for Leo and the other new bartender, and figured out what shifts he would have them do. He had also called suppliers, placed orders, paid bills, had a conference call with his advertisement agency about running a new series of ads in the paper, and called the town hall office that granted blood bar licenses. That last call had been a waste of time since the woman in charge of his application was on vacation, but her secretary had promised she'd call back upon her return ten days later. At the very least, that meant the license wouldn't be processed for a week and half, and Brett wasn't too happy about that. Since the opening of On The Edge, Lisa had suggested that he offer blood at the bar to the vampire customers, and he agreed with her that it would be a great advantage. The process was becoming ridiculously lengthy, though.
The club opened at seven during the week, and six thirty on weekends, but all employees who had an opening shift were supposed to be on the premises twenty minutes before the opening. He had asked John to gather them all in the sitting area as they arrived so he could talk to them before the club opened, and John had just given him the word that they were all there. All save for one, and a quick phone call to the apartment upstairs took care of that. By the time Brett walked out of his office to join his employees, Lisa emerged from the stairwell, followed by Leo. Brett took her hand and kissed her knuckles as they came to where the employees were waiting.
The staff consisted of five security guards, two bartenders with whom Leo would work, a DJ, three waitresses, and one waiter. They had all been on board since the opening of On The Edge, and they had become a tight-knit group as time had passed. Usually, they were rather rambunctious, and Brett needed to call them to order before starting a meeting. Today however, they fell silent as soon as he approached the tables they had brought together.
"Hello, everybody. I'm going to take a wild guess and bet you were all visited by the police today. Am I right?"
The murmur that came up sounded affirmative. There was only one surprised “Police?” by his side, and Brett gave Lisa an apologetic glance for not having talked to her about it before. She and Leo went to sit with the others.
