by Krista Davis
“Seems unlikely that there would be two guys in vampire capes running around Old Town attacking people.”
He said what I’d been thinking. I scooted closer to him. “Wolf, he smelled of licorice.”
“What?”
“When he threw the cape over my head, I smelled licorice. It could have been an odor on the cape, or it might even have been on his breath.”
A smile crept onto Wolf’s face.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Absolutely not. I’m just imagining myself telling other cops to sniff suspects. They’ll demand licorice samples so they can get it right.”
I could well imagine the ribbing he would take.
Wolf’s moment of levity faded fast. “If Blake is the only connection between you and Patrick, the common factor must be the haunted house, since Patrick used to rent the building. Have you found anything unusual there?”
“Nothing worth killing for. Mostly dust and cobwebs.”
Wolf picked up my hand and squeezed it. “I don’t want to worry you, but if this guy thinks you can identify him, he could come back to try again. You need to be on alert.”
After a quick kiss, Wolf went back to work at Natasha and Mars’s house.
I heard the girls scurrying back to the family room. By the time I looked in on them, they were on the sofa bed, pretending they’d been there all along. “You two okay?”
“Great!” said Jen.
I had my doubts about that, but I left them to their movie, double-checked to be sure all the doors were locked, and dragged my weary legs up the stairs with Mochie and Daisy leading the way. I opened the window a few inches to take advantage of the cool, crisp October air. Even though the vampire had attacked me in front of my own home, I felt some small degree of comfort in the police lights and murmuring voices just down the block at Natasha’s.
I crawled into bed, and Mochie and Daisy nestled into my down comforter, but as exhausted as I was, I lay awake for hours, thinking about Patrick and why his killer would attack me.
Screams woke us in the middle of the night. Mochie’s head stretched up in alarm, like an auditory telescope, confirming that I hadn’t dreamt them, and Daisy shot out the bedroom door. I could hear her heavy footsteps pounding down the old wooden stairs. I scrambled out of the warmth of my comforter and stumbled after Daisy to check on the girls. When I flicked on the lights in the family room, Vegas was sitting up on the sofa bed, holding the covers up to her chin. Jen blinked at her, seemingly confused.
Her voice trembling, Vegas said, “I saw him. I saw Viktor.”
More likely Vincent Price had invaded her dreams. I sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and Mochie sprang up, purring. “Honey, there’s no such thing as vampires.”
Jen’s eyes widened. “Yes, there is!”
She wasn’t helping. I spoke gently. “I know that vampires are popular right now, but they’re just based on legend. Even the original vampire, Count Dracula, was fiction.”
“What about that guy in Transylvania?” asked Jen.
“Vlad the Impaler? He was a sick and very cruel man, but he wasn’t really a vampire.”
“But I saw him, I know I did.” Vegas loosened her grip on the sheets and pointed. “He was standing right there, watching us sleep. He looked just like June described him.”
Could the killer have gotten into the house? I dismissed that notion. Daisy was a friendly dog, but if someone had entered the house, she would be tracking the scent. Instead, she sat on the sofa bed kissing Jen.
“Okay, everyone into the kitchen.” They followed me, and I made quick work of reviving the fire. I didn’t light candles or spooky Halloween lights. Vegas didn’t need her imagination inspired.
Jen retrieved milk from the refrigerator. “What about people who drink blood? Aren’t they vampires?”
I popped some hot dog mummies into the oven. “There are people who do that. But are they immortal? They can go out into the sun, can’t they? They have reflections, and they’re not afraid of garlic.”
“Garlic! Do you have any more?” Jen asked. “We used it all to protect Gabriel.”
Fortunately, I always have plenty of garlic.
They passed the next half hour stringing garlic teeth on dental floss. The kitchen smelled great, but I suspected it would take several showers for the girls to rid themselves of the pungent aroma.
I served the cute mummies—really hot dogs wrapped in bread dough with mustard drops for eyes—and I could feel the tension release.
“Vampires can go out into the sun if they have the right protection. Like a lapis stone,” offered Vegas.
“Their skin glitters in the sun.” Jen bit into a mummy.
I hesitated. Fiction was fun. I wasn’t sure where the line was, though. Did I ruin it for them by saying it wasn’t true? Or should I let them have that fantasy?
“What about ghosts? Are they real?” asked Jen.
I couldn’t help looking at Faye’s portrait. Until I lived in this house, I would have insisted that ghosts didn’t exist. But too many unexplained things had happened, and June was thoroughly convinced that Faye’s ghost resided here. I didn’t know quite what to say. I dodged the question. “Have you ever met anyone who didn’t have a reflection?”
Jen picked up on that right away. “Tomorrow, we’ll carry our makeup compacts with us. That way, we can check the reflections of everyone.”
Vegas eyed me with suspicion, and I couldn’t help laughing. I retrieved a shiny stainless steel pot and scooted next to the girls. I held it up, and our images reflected like they would in a fun-house mirror, completely warped. The resulting giggles and laughter finally did the trick, and I thought they might be ready for bed.
I tucked them in this time and nestled into a plush chair, my legs propped on an oversized ottoman, intending to watch them until they slept.
The next thing I knew, someone was banging the knocker on the front door and daylight was streaming into the house. The girls stirred but didn’t rise. Mochie and I hurried to the front door, where Daisy already waited.
The door knocker sounded again. Someone was in a hurry. I threw open the door to find the doorkeeper vampire from Natasha’s party. He held a stunning arrangement of fall flowers in an urn and a box of Teuscher Champagne Truffles.
“Oh, thank goodness.” He shuffled into my foyer and set the flowers on the console. “I thought I would drop those for sure. They’re very heavy.” He held the truffles out to me with a smile. “For you. It’s an apology.”
Had he attacked me by mistake? His arrogant demeanor from the night before had vanished. He’d washed the pomade out of his dark hair, and now that he wasn’t in costume, trying to act superior, his round face was actually friendly. I pretended to close the door behind him, but left it open a crack in case he turned on me.
“Thank you,” I said, in spite of my confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I feel just terrible about the way I treated you last night. I had no idea who you were. I thought you were just some woman off the street, and Natasha had made it very clear that I was to keep out people who weren’t invited. Including Vegas!”
He’d certainly done that. I held out the truffles to him. “This really isn’t necessary.”
“Oh, but it is.” He leaned toward me. “Don’t tell Natasha, but you’re really my favorite. I always read your column. You don’t need an assistant, do you? I’d leave Natasha in a flash. She’s a bit cranky, isn’t she? I was mortified when I found out who you were. It was just so chaotic last night. Honestly, I’ve never been to a party like that. I guess you’re used to big bashes since you’re an event planner, and then to have that man die—” He stopped talking abruptly. “I woke you! You’re still in your jammies. Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”
The door knocker sounded again, stopping his self-conscious chatter.
The door swung open, and Natasha marched in. “Leon! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t my assistant be
at my house?”
He turned purple, but she didn’t notice. Focusing on me, she asked, “Have you heard from Wolf?”
“Not this morning.”
She clapped a hand over her forehead. “How could this happen to me? We worked so hard on this party. Everything was perfect, and then that Patrick Starski had to go and die. I hope it was natural causes. Everyone knows Maggie—just everyone! It’s all over town. It’s a good thing it wasn’t Maggie who died. I almost killed her myself when she showed up dressed as Morticia Addams, just like me! I hand-sewed my dress while hers was off the rack, but still—what does a person have to do to be original these days? Who wears the same outfit as the hostess? That’s in the worst possible taste. Patrick wore that silly pirate getup. At least Mars and I wore matching costumes. All night long everyone mistook me for Maggie, saying we look alike. Personally, I don’t see it. And then the explosion in my kitchen. Could anything else have possibly gone wrong?”
She glanced at my pajamas, bright orange with flying witches and black cats. “You have to be kidding. Please tell me those aren’t flannel.”
They were, of course. Soft and snuggly, and I really didn’t care what she thought of them.
“Did the police find you, Leon?” she asked. “They wanted to talk with you.”
Leon, whose pudgy figure suggested a fondness for good food, took a step backward. “Me? What would they want with me?”
“Don’t be silly. You handled the guest list and checked everyone at the door.” Natasha turned to me again. “I’ve already heard rumors that a vampire killed Patrick.”
Leon held his hands just above his tummy, twisting and turning them as though he were washing them. It wasn’t lost on me that Leon had dressed as a vampire for the party.
Natasha sniffed the air. “No coffee? I desperately need coffee, and my assistant is over here instead of getting me coffee! You can imagine how little sleep we got last night at June’s house. Mars is the only one who could sleep at all. He was still snoozing at his mom’s when I left. Leon, are you still here? You’d better get going before the cops put out a dragnet for you.”
I thought I saw a little quiver in his shoulders. He pulled his chin back rigidly like he was bracing himself. Why would he be afraid of the police? Was it possible that Leon had been the vampire we saw standing over Patrick? The man had taken off very fast. Leon didn’t look like a runner, but then, when scared, even I could run at a decent clip for a short distance. He could have cut through the alley and returned to the house through the back. The vampire cape would have gone a long way in hiding his stomach. Had he accosted me last night? I leaned toward him and tried to sniff him without being obvious. He smelled faintly of lemon.
His frightened look reminded me of Maggie the day before when she was in the Hummer. What were they afraid of?
“Again, I’m very sorry, Sophie.” Leon dragged out my front door as though headed to his doom.
Natasha didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. “Incidentally, when people tell me how creepy my Halloween decorations are, I’m going to send them to your house. That doll is like something out of a horror movie. I never would have expected it of you. Mother thinks it’s possessed.”
“What doll?” I was still groggy and couldn’t recall decorating with a doll. What was she talking about?
She pointed outside. Propped up on the top of one of my pumpkins stood the most hideous doll I’d ever seen. The eyes alone were enough to give me nightmares. They were completely white, with no irises or pupils, but vivid red and black ringed them against skin paler than Humphrey’s. The black hair started too far back on the head, accentuating a huge forehead. “What on earth?” I picked up the doll and held it gingerly. I really didn’t want to touch the horrid thing.
Still holding the doll, I stepped back inside. Natasha closed the door and leaned against it. “I don’t know if Leon is going to work out. You’re so lucky that you’re not as busy as I am, and that you don’t need an assistant. Honestly, it’s hard to find good help. He came highly recommended, but sometimes I think he’s like you—he likes the easy projects but isn’t keen on the truly beautiful things that set me apart.”
I motioned her into the kitchen, trying to hide my amusement at her insult, and dropped the doll inside a plastic bag, glad to have it out of sight. I put pumpkin spice coffee on to brew and fed Daisy one of her favorite homemade peanut butter biscuits cut in the shape of a witch’s hat. I’d anticipated the possibility of haunted house volunteers dropping by in the morning and was glad I’d baked a chocolate pecan coffee ring in advance. “Did you ask your mother if she would tell fortunes at the haunted house?” I sliced the coffee ring and set it on the table.
“She’s thrilled. And so am I. The police have already removed her from the roped-off area once this morning. She was using a mirror to flash the sun in some kind of protective spell.
“Sophie,” she continued, her voice dropping, “do you think I’ll ever live down last night’s party? I’m horrified. No one in this town will ever come to a party at our house again.”
“Look on the bright side—your name is probably being mentioned in every house in Old Town this morning. How bad is the damage?”
“We’ll know more in a few hours when the cleanup and restoration people arrive. They’re not letting us in yet. One of the firefighters said it didn’t look too bad. I had to sweettalk him into bringing me a change of clothes.” She sniffed. “Everything reeks of smoke, but it beats wearing something of June’s.”
“At least there weren’t any subsequent explosions. Do the police have any new theories, or are they still thinking the killer meant to create a distraction?”
“I was hoping you would know through your direct connection to Wolf. They haven’t told me a thing.” She lowered her forehead into the points of her fingers. “A murder at my party. The police better find the killer fast because if I find him first, I might be tempted to kill. A million Halloween parties in town and the killer had to pick mine?” She raised her head and fluffed her hair. “And then I had to shower in June’s ancient bathroom this morning. It’s like the nightmare never ends.”
Daisy’s ears perked. Natasha hissed, “Ixnay on the irefay.” Vegas shuffled into the kitchen. Did Natasha really think kids didn’t understand pig Latin?
“Natasha!” Vegas scooted into the chair beside her. “I saw Viktor Luca last night!”
“Who?” Natasha kissed the air near Vegas’s cheek. “Ugh. You stink. What is that smell? Garlic?”
Vegas grabbed a slice of the coffee ring and bit into it with gusto. “The vampire. Viktor Luca.”
“You girls and your vampire obsessions.” Natasha preened a bit when she said, “Wasn’t my house perfect last night? I banked on vampires being the hot craze and I was so right. You know, there is something elegant about them— martinis and all—so much nicer than grubby mummies and zombies.” She leaned toward Vegas. “Pinch off a bite of that for me.”
“Do you think Viktor showed up at your party?” asked Vegas, holding out a morsel of chocolate and bread.
So much for convincing her that vampires weren’t real.
Natasha raised her hands with her fingers stiffly splayed, her long nails looking very witchy. “Boo!” She plucked the chocolaty piece from Vegas’s fingers and chewed it slowly, savoring every last bit. “I’m sure he wasn’t there, Vegas. I don’t believe I even know a Viktor.”
I handed Natasha an orange mug of coffee and placed a sugar bowl in the shape of a pumpkin and a matching creamer with a green vine handle on the table.
“Do you know who bit Mr. Starski and set the fire? We saw him, you know.” Vegas sniffed the coffee. “Can I have some of that?”
“Wouldn’t you rather have hot chocolate?” I asked.
Vegas shook her head. “I love coffee.”
I looked to Natasha for permission, but she stared at Vegas. “Bit him?”
“Jen and I saw the bite marks on his neck.”
&n
bsp; Natasha snapped her gaze to me. “Is that true? Did you see them, too?”
What I saw was my neighbor, Nina Reid Norwood, letting herself in through the kitchen door. “Why didn’t you tell me about the murder at Natasha’s house last night?” Daisy planted herself in front of Nina in an alert sit position and offered a paw. Nina withdrew a dog treat from the pocket of her quilted silk bathrobe and fed it to Daisy. “Brr, it’s cold out there.”
I told them to help themselves to coffee and dashed up the stairs to shower and change while Natasha brought Nina up to speed. An oversized purple T-shirt with long sleeves and a Halloween cat stitched on the front seemed perfect. I wedged into a pair of black jeans so tight that I couldn’t breathe, gave up, and swapped them for blue jeans that were loaded with spandex and much more comfortable. I pulled my hair up with a big clip to keep it out of the way since we had a lot to accomplish. Glittering purple spiderweb earrings, a gift from Jen, finished off my Halloween look.
I hustled back to the kitchen to scramble eggs with ham. It wasn’t the most Halloweeny breakfast, but I thought we all needed a boost of protein in our systems.
Nina rose to pour more coffee for everyone. She nudged me. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Patrick last night! I thought the police were there because of the fire.”
“You hurried off to catch that cat.”
“Next time, fill me in, will you? I never would have left you alone. I never did catch the cat anyway.”
I was counting on being burned-out in the evening, so I threw salty soy sauce, sweet apricot preserves, garlic, cornstarch, ginger, and orange juice into a pot and let it cook into a marinade for Chicken Scaryaki while we ate breakfast.
Slices of cantaloupe, banana monster fingers, and toast cut into the shape of pumpkins with a cookie cutter went on green plates along with the eggs and ham.
I leaned into the family room and called, “Jen, breakfast is on!”
She emerged rubbing her eyes. I noted that she still wore the sock on her neck. “Do you know anything about this?” I held open the bag that contained the horrifying doll.
