by Unknown
“This was at the House of Usher, on Haight Street?” Sansome asked.
I couldn’t answer. My mind and heart were in turmoil. Instinctively I looked over at my best friend, then remembered that I was keeping all of this a secret. But before I could duck my head I caught Steve’s eye. I could tell from his expression that he had seen right through me.
“Yes, that’s right,” Steve answered.
Sansome leaned back and laced his fingers over his ample tummy. “Ms. McCaffrey, Mr. Blomfelt, people are superstitious. When you say vampire, they get scared and want to get out the pitchforks. But in reality, cult killings are very rare. We are aware of this club and what goes on there. There have never been any complaints or any reports of crimes. Their actions are consensual and legal.”
“But what about that woman?” Steve interjected. “She looked like she was being killed!”
“All right, I’ll get their names and we’ll look into it.” Sansome’s tone was placating. “But I really wouldn’t worry about this club, Mr. Blomfelt. If we ever have a problem with a psycho, it’s usually a lone individual. In fact, we had a case last year that the newspapers called ‘The Vampire Murderer.’ Guy claimed to be a three-thousand-year-old vampire. Stabbed his girlfriend twelve times and drank her blood. Ms. McCaffrey, are you all right?”
I had tipped over a little in my seat and had to grab the chair to right myself. “Yes, thank you, I’m fine. I’m just feeling a little tired.”
Sansome took us back over to his desk. He got out his notebook and his pen. “What are the names of the individuals you saw?”
“Suleiman and Moravia, well, their real names are Douglas and Marie Claire Paquin.”
“And the woman in the tape who’s being cut?”
“Lilith, but I don’t know her last name, or even if that’s her real name.”
“No problem.” Sansome smiled. “And the cloaked individual? Were you able to ID him?”
Steve shook his head and I said no. “He never took off the hood,” I added.
Sansome asked me again whether I knew where Les was, and if I knew the names of any of his friends. He told me to call him immediately if Les got in touch with me again. Then he escorted us to the hall and shook our hands, thanking us for coming.
On Bryant Street Steve bought us each a soft pretzel from a stand. He handed mine over and said, “I want to watch you eat that. You haven’t eaten in days, as far as I can tell.”
The pretzel looked about as appetizing as a piece of cardboard. I took a bite and chewed slowly.
“Angie, why did you lie to the policeman?”
The pretzel stuck in my throat. “I didn’t lie, Steve…”
“You know who the hooded man was. I could tell from your face when you were watching the video. It was him, wasn’t it?”
“Steve, you’re wrong. I swear, I don’t know who it was.”
Steve looked at me, his expression hurt and bewildered. Then he turned and poured mustard on his pretzel.
I rubbed my eyes with my napkin, hoping Steve wouldn’t see the tears starting in them. He had every right to worry. Hell, I was worried. I was consciously rejecting the notion of vampires, but I was lying, obfuscating, and covering up to protect a man I hardly knew, who might very well be a murderer. The man had a grip on me that was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. It was as if I were still on the back of his motorcycle, driving into the dark and hanging on for dear life.
Chapter 13
I spent the afternoon according to my new routine, asleep. My eyelids popped open just as the sun was setting. Normally it would have taken me an hour to find something to wear to the Bennett’s party, but black tie was actually easier. I only had three dresses that would do for black tie and one of them was a peach bridesmaid’s dress I wouldn’t be caught dead in. Another was a green velvet dress from the fifties with a bell skirt and sweetheart neckline. That one was too sweet. The third was a red, beaded 1920s silk flapper dress. Red lipstick, dangling crystal earrings, and a black velvet shrug completed the ensemble.
I found Kimberley in the living room wearing a black sleeveless sheath that fit her like the dress that Marilyn Monroe wore to sing “Happy Birthday” to President Kennedy. In other words, she was poured into it. Her pumps had heels so high they would have given me a nosebleed from the altitude. Her pearls were the size of gumballs. Her blond hair was arranged in a French twist. She turned and looked at me like I was a favorite pet who had peed on her carpet, like she loved me but found me quite disgusting.
“Vintage, I presume?”
“Yes. Something wrong with it?”
“Not at all. You look charming.” She patted me on the shoulder as she walked out of the room.
The Bennett mansion occupied a huge corner lot at the top of the highest hill in San Francisco. A small army of valets stood in a line to receive the Mercedes and BMWs as they disgorged their elegantly dressed occupants, mostly white couples between the ages of forty and seventy. The men held the elbows of their wives as they passed through the white columns of the portico. There was a remarkable similarity among them, the men with steel gray hair and tans from the golf course, the women rigorously thin, with expertly dyed puffballs of hair and extremely large jewels around the neck.
Kimberley pushed a remote control button on her key chain to open an iron gate at the back entrance of the house. We followed a long curving driveway and parked in front of the separate three-car garage. A courtyard filled with tropical plants and a fountain that looked like it was stolen from a Roman plaza separated us from the back door. We entered a bustle of activity in the kitchen, dozens of caterers piling silver trays high with everything from artichokes to ziti.
In the hallway Kimberley swept past a small pen-and-ink drawing of a man in Renaissance clothing, with a cauliflower nose, but I stopped to pay homage because I knew this little picture was a Rembrandt. We continued past a carved ice sculpture of a mermaid. The crushed ice below her displayed oysters on the half shell and wedges of lemon. Kimberley grabbed one and slurped it down. She offered one to me, forgetting that I hate seafood. I took three crackers and a wedge of cheese, arranging them on a tiny plate, porcelain, of course.
“We’d better go and show ourselves to my parents.” Kimberley let out a little sigh. I followed her into a marble-lined foyer larger than most people’s living rooms, where waiters plied the guests with trays of caviar on toast triangles and little rolls of puff pastry topped with bright pink salmon roe. Kimberley grabbed a glass of champagne as the tray went by.
The Bennetts were standing at the front door, greeting their guests as they entered. We approached them and hovered, waiting to be noticed. Dr. Bennett, dressed in a double-breasted tuxedo, was the very picture of a rich middle-aged playboy. He had a full head of wavy gray hair worn slightly long, as if he wanted to draw attention to it. Mrs. Bennett looked like she had spent too much time in her husband’s plastic surgery office. Her button nose and round blue eyes seemed pulled by invisible strings toward the back of her head. She was wearing a strapless silk dress in a shade of pink that ought to be reserved for newborn baby girls, but her figure was years younger than its owner. Dr. Bennett seemed to be using his wife as a living showcase for his surgical talents.
Mrs. Bennett turned to Kimberley and planted an air kiss near her cheek. “Kimmy, sweetheart, you’re finally here. I’ve been trying to call you. You should have told me you were going to use the guest room this week. Esmerelda was in there for half a day yesterday, getting it ready for the Fitzpatricks. Who did you have stay over, by the way?”
“No one, Mummy. I just felt like staying there myself. It has a better view than my room.”
I took a sidelong glance at Kimberley. She had told me she was house-sitting, but her parents hadn’t invited her. Was there something about our apartment that made her want to get away? Or maybe she needed a break from me?
“Well, now the party can begin!” Dr. Bennett gave his daughter a real kiss on the chee
k, and then pumped my hand vigorously. “Glad you could come, girls. Kimberley, you should have come to Bermuda with us and gotten some sun, you look pale as a ghost.”
Mrs. Bennett turned to me. “Angie, you darling girl, how are you?” She took my hand and instantly changed her expression to one of kindly sympathy. “Kimmy told us about your colleague, Lucy, was that her name? A terrible tragedy. Kimmy is just broken up, I know. How are you taking it, my dear?”
I nodded somberly. “Thank you, I’m doing all right. Seems like keeping busy is the best medicine. There’s always so much to do at work.”
“We hear so many great things about the agency. We’re so proud of Kimberley. She’s getting some very good accounts, I hear. That Tangento company is very high profile.”
I looked over at Kimberley to see if she’d heard what her mother was saying, but she and her father were talking to another couple. If her parents didn’t know she’d lost Tangento to me I wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.
“Yes, Kimberley is a hard worker, that’s for sure!” I said heartily. It was odd to me that the Bennetts were taking such an interest in Kimberley’s work at the agency. If you asked my parents about my work they’d be hard pressed to say exactly what it is I do for a living, much less the names of particular clients.
“I think Barry Warner is coming to the party tonight. He works at Tangento. We introduced him to Kimmy a couple of months ago. Such a charming gentleman. He’s Southern, you know…” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “We thought he might be a good match for her, but I guess that didn’t work out.”
“Really? Well, with affairs of the heart you can never predict,” I said, trying to sound worldly. “I haven’t actually met Barry Warner yet.”
“He’s around here somewhere.” Trudi waved around the room. “I’d be happy to introduce you. It didn’t work out with Kimmy, but he’s certainly an eligible gentleman!”
“Thanks, Mrs. Bennett, but I’m not really in the market right now, if you know what I mean.”
“Already taken, are you?” Mrs. Bennett winked at me as an image of Eric flashed through my mind, his intense blue gaze, the strength in his arms as he pulled me to him…I shook my head to snap out of it.
“Taken, no, unfortunately. Just been too busy at work.”
“You’re just like our Kimmy then. Are you working on anything we might have heard of?” she asked, probably trying to assess the competition.
“Well, Comet Toothpaste is a client of ours.” I answered. “Maybe you’ve heard of them?” Comet Toothpaste was like Ivory Soap, it had been around so long that everyone knew the name but no one used the product. “We’re working on some great new ads for them, to reenergize the brand. ‘This is not your grandmother’s toothpaste!’ type of thing.”
Then I learned where Kimberley had inherited the glazed-over expression she got when she was bored. Trudi’s face had more glaze than an old-fashioned donut. She had obviously decided that our conversation was not going to advance little Kimmy’s career, so I was being dismissed.
“Well, that’s very interesting, dear, I’m sure you’ll do wonders for them. Now, let me look around and see who’s here that you should meet.” Her head bobbed around like one of those ceramic dogs you see in the back window of cars.
“That’s all right, Mrs. Bennett, I’m about to go and get a bite to eat anyway. I think I see some folks I know over there.”
“Very well, dear, nice to see you.” She turned to greet a white-haired couple that had been waiting for her attention.
I had already ascertained that Eric was not in the foyer with the Bennets, so I moved on to the dining room, a giant room with silk wallpaper and oak paneling on the walls, and a box-beamed ceiling. A server was offering champagne in crystal flutes, so I took one, just for something to do with my hands. When I sipped it I was pleased to find it didn’t have a metallic taste. I took several big swallows. Because of my empty stomach I immediately felt dizzy, but not in a bad way. Getting drunk seemed like a nice way to make the time pass. Eric was taller than most people so it should have been easy to spot him. I scanned the room, trying to look casual and a bit bored while the butterflies in my stomach leaped and cavorted with concrete wings. The nerves calmed down when I didn’t see him, but were replaced by disappointment.
I was standing next to a small buffet table where a man in a chef’s hat was carving thin slices of rare roast beef. I watched the pink juices well up and drip down over the carving knife. I drew closer and stared at the meat. Suddenly I was ravenously hungry. I imagined leaping onto the table and grabbing the whole roast, tearing into it like a hyena.
“Would you care for a slice, Ma’am?” The server smiled at me.
“Yes, please.” I took the plate he offered and held it up to my nose, took a deep whiff. No, I had no desire whatsoever to eat the gray and pink mass on my plate. Whatever I was hungry for, it wasn’t beef.
“Would you like me to get you a fork, or are you just going to use your teeth?”
I’d know that voice anywhere.
Not to mention the smell. As soon as I put the beef down Eric’s subtle but insinuating fragrance wafted over me. I gaped at him for several seconds before I realized he was holding his hand out. I shook his hand, embarrassed to note that my palms were sweating. In his immaculate black tuxedo and sparkling white shirt he fit right into the scene at the Bennetts’, but for the long hair. He turned my hand palm down and bowed over it like a Knight of the Round Table.
“Angela, we meet again, so soon. I’m sorry I missed you at my office on Friday.” Of course he would be aware of my blatant pursuit of him. I wondered if he knew that I’d come to the party looking for him as well, but at the moment his eyes gave nothing away.
“What are you doing here?” I tried for surprise in my tone, but I wasn’t very successful.
“Some of my real estate dealings have brought me into contact with Dr. Bennett. He owns a number of buildings in the city. But you would know that, wouldn’t you, since you live in one?” Eric smiled. “I was hoping to see you here, since you work with Kimberley. That’s really why I came.”
I felt a warm glow in the pit of my stomach. He came to see me. But why did he make me wait two days? Because he was busy doing things at the House of Usher that he didn’t want me to know about?
I don’t wish to confuse or frighten you. Ask me what you want to know.
I looked at him sharply. I was distinctly sure I hadn’t heard his actual voice.
A waiter conveniently walked by, and I grabbed another glass of champagne. I swallowed it down in one gulp and made my decision. Some questions had to be answered before we could go on.
“I was there last night, at the House of Usher. I want to know what you were doing there and if it had anything to do with what happened to Lucy.” My voice was rising to a squeak.
“Perhaps we should find a more quiet spot to discuss this, Angela.” He took my elbow gently and steered me out of the room.
When Eric touched me illicit visions appeared in my head, of doing things that didn’t involve talking. I was amazed at the power of my lust for Eric. It swept away concerns that before I met him would have paralyzed me. I took a deep breath to clear my head but it didn’t work, so I moved a few steps away from him.
“There’s a little garden in the back of the house. Through the kitchen,” I said. “We can talk out there.”
Eric nodded and followed me. We dodged the hurrying waiters in the kitchen and opened the back door. There was a small stone bench near the fountain. We sat down and Eric turned to face me.
“So, what would you care to discuss? I’m at your service.”
I took a deep breath, wishing I’d brought more champagne with me. “I was there last night, with Steve, at the House of Usher. I recorded the ceremony.”
“What ceremony?”
Anger burned in my chest. Why was he being obtuse when he had just said he would answer my questions? “I know it was
you, I saw your ring!” I grabbed his left hand and pulled it up to my face. His pinkie finger was bare.
I let his hand drop to my lap.
“Oh God,” I whispered. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
Eric started to answer me but he was interrupted by the sound of voices raised in argument, coming from the driveway. One of the voices was Kimberley’s.
From where we sat I could see down the driveway to where Kimberley was standing with her back against the hood of her car. Facing away from me was a man with the wide shoulders of a football player. Even with the gurgling sounds of the fountain their raised voices were easily heard.
Kimberley was laughing, a bitter sound. “Oh, please. Don’t try to play ‘poor me’ at this point. It just doesn’t become you. I’m not asking for much anyway, you know it could be a lot more. Money, for instance. But obviously, I don’t need money, just a little helping hand. So, do this for me and I’ll forget everything.”
“I can’t do it, Kimberley, I don’t have that kind of power!” The man had a strong Southern accent. Unless the party was full of Southerners I had a pretty good idea who she was talking to. I stood up and quietly moved closer to them, but still under cover of the ferns and trees.
“Now, now, don’t be hard on yourself, I know you can be very persuasive.” Kimberley’s voice was seductive now. “So do it soon. Monday’s good for me. Now, I’d better get back to the party. My parents will be wondering where I’ve gone.”
Without waiting for an answer Kimberley turned around and walked away. I held my breath and crouched behind a big fern. She passed by without noticing me. I glanced over at Eric but the bench was in shadow. The man lit a cigarette and walked down the driveway. I heard the drone of the mechanical gate opening and closing.
I went back and sat on the bench next to Eric, who was staring at the ground as if deep in thought.
