A Grave Situation

by Zoey Kane

  “Ladies…” a guy’s voice soon called.

  Zo batted her eyelashes just a little as she turned around with a smile. “Yes?”

  He was down on one knee. “One of you drop your keys?” he asked, holding them in the cup of his hand, like an engagement ring in its velvet box.

  Claire eyed her mother, knowing her tricks … and her thoughts.

  “That would be me!” Zo said. “Humm. Now how did they slip out of my purse in the first place?”

  Before he stood, his eyes scanned Zo’s pink strappy heels. “Nice shoes!”

  “Thanks! And what occasion are you dressed for?” she decided to ask.

  He stood and she took the keys. He was a full head taller. “I’m the ballet instructor, Kellen Knight.”

  “I’m Zoey Kane, and this is my daughter Claire. You’re the teacher there?” She noticed the words painted on his studio’s window: “Twinkle Toes.”

  “Yep, that’s it.” He smiled perfectly white, straight teeth. This guy seemed too good to be true.

  Claire said, “That sounds like fun. What ages do you teach?”

  “During the day I teach a group of little girls, ages six to nine. But this Wednesday I’ll help teach adults ballroom dancing. It’s open to anyone, so if you ladies would like to come by tomorrow…”

  “Maybe we will.” Zo raised an eyebrow in interest. “I love to dance. In the meantime, we’re staying at Dracula’s.”

  “Oh.” His eyes lit up in curiosity. “Is it any fun? I hear Dracula is a superb actor.”

  Claire nodded and said, “It all feels very real. And we have an interesting group staying with us.”

  “Boy, do we ever,” Zo agreed with a little laugh.

  “Oh?”

  Zo was happy to oblige his curiosity. “A couple older women from around here, Lenora and Beth. Then there’s Frank, the ghost hunter who doesn’t believe in ghosts…”

  Kellen chuckled at that.

  “A girl named Lacey, who has amazingly platinum blond hair. And she’s a natural blonde by what I can tell.”

  “Lacey? Platinum blond?” he asked like he knew. “That’s my tenant and niece.”

  “Oh.” Zo glanced at his ring finger. Thankfully it was bare.

  “Yes. Very interesting.” He looked over their heads and moved his jaw in thought. “Lacey, that little rascal, does get around.”

  “Hm?” Zo said, looking at him quizzically.

  He returned his gaze, and said, “Lacey has been living out of one of my rentals, here, by the beach.” He pointed toward a cluster of charming little beachfront homes. Kellen then snapped a glance at his phone he’d pulled out of a bag’s side pocket. “Oh, I’m going to be late for my hair appointment. Gotta go, girls. It was nice meeting you two.”

  As they were saying their goodbyes, he reminded them of the night classes.

  Claire pointed across the street. “There’s the boutique, where we can find mirrors.”

  Another man was locking the ballet studio doors and saw the two standing there. Before greeting them, he called out to Kellen, “Don’t forget lunch at The Lobster Loft—one o’clock!”

  “I won’t!” Kellen replied and kept walking.

  “Alright, cutie! Catch ya later!” The man jangled his keys and then smiled at the Kanes, saying, “Morning, ladies!”

  “Good morning,” they replied, and Zo marveled at his neatly arched eyebrows.

  “Did I overhear correctly?” he stopped to ask. “You two are headed for the boutique?”

  “Yes,” they said.

  “Well, let me warn you—the only thing Cocoa shares with fashion icon Coco Chanel is first names. The clothing is cheaply made and garish.” His expression was dramatic, his eyebrows moving together in disapproval. “You wouldn’t want a sleeve to drop off while waving at someone, would you?”

  “We’re just buying mirrors,” Zo said, amused by him. “So no worries.”

  “That’s a good thing, ladies.” He breathed out as if truly relaxed by the news. “Only God knows why she’s still in business. Anyway, my name’s Patrick.” The Kanes introduced themselves. “I’ve got to go jazzercise. I teach down at the gym. I’ll catch ya later.”

  They said their goodbyes and he was off, carrying a large duffel bag.

  Once in the boutique, Zo continued to swoon over Kellen, insisting that they must check out his night class. As Claire twirled a rack of sunglasses, she said, “He’s gay, Mom.”

  “Gay?” Zo put a hand to her chest, wearing one of the giant sun hats for sale. “He is not gay.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  A woman’s voice piped in from across the small store. “Kellen Knight? Yep, he’s gay.”

  Zo looked at the woman whose peacock-feather earrings swung as she nodded her head in insistence.

  “Drats!” Zo snapped. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?” Claire asked.

  “How he can have better hair than me.”

  They approached the clerk’s desk with a small bundle of thises-and-thats: sunglasses, a scarf, bubble gum, sun hats, mascara, and mirrors of course.

  “What do you need dark purple mascara for?” Claire asked her mother, shaking her head.

  “You never know. It could come in handy.”

  The woman behind the desk smiled. Not only were her earrings interesting, her eye shadow matched their peacock green. And though ultra-short hair wasn’t typically a cut Zo cared for, she had to admit the black wisps sweeping around the woman’s face framed her just perfectly, sort of like Betty Boop.

  “I love your darling shop,” Zo said.

  “Why, thank you! You’re new here. I’m Cocoa.” She looked totally pleased, then pulled a coupon out from a drawer. “Here—let’s take twenty-percent off your order. This is from Sunday’s paper.”

  “Oh, it’s completely all right.” Zo was ready to politely decline, having recently acquired wealth, but the woman had already scanned its barcode. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  As Cocoa passed them their bags, she said, “Hope to see you again.”

  *

  After shopping, the Kanes stopped at a yogurt shop and then took a stroll. A few seagulls flew overhead, screaming their bird calls as they went.

  “It’s really quite quaint and beautiful here,” Zo said, taking another bite of her cheesecake-flavored dessert. A foghorn blew in the distance, and they could see a few sailors out this morning.

  “Yes, it is. I’ll have to bring a boyfriend down here someday.”

  “How about Lucas back home? You seem to like his company.”

  Claire moved her sunglasses over her hair like a headband. “I like him, yes. But we’re still not serious. I don’t know if I could marry someone who has Buffy the Vampire Slayer action figures.”

  “Oh, lots of guys have collections from their childhood. Men are really nothing more than giant little boys.”

  “I don’t think his collection is from his childhood…”

  “Well, then what, Claire? Do you think he has a personality disorder?”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet about anyone. Anyway, he is not my pick at this time.”

  The sidewalks changed from standard cement to white-washed planks, screwed down together as a boardwalk. They were soon strolling by the series of old homes Kellen had pointed out. Zo and Claire dumped their empty yogurt bowls into a trash can connected to an old fashioned streetlight, and continued their stroll.

  As a former real estate agent, Zo especially loved looking at the homes’ outdoor decor, their tiny patches of lawn, their glittering wind chimes and fluttering flags.

  Up ahead, a house’s sea-foam green front door opened. A voice called through the screen door, “Mittens! Come here, kitty! Mittens!”

  As they approached, Claire caught sight of a black cat with white feet sniffing around some roses another yard over.

  “Mittens!”

  “I think she’s over here!” Claire called.

  The s
creen door creaked as a young woman pushed it open. Her platinum blond hair was unbrushed. She wore a tank top with fuzzy pig pajama pants, and a purple scarf wrapped around her neck.

  Teenagers have such eclectic fashion senses, Zo mused.

  “Lacey?” Zo said as the girl approached.

  Lacey looked at them with her mouth hanging open. “Oh, hi. I didn’t expect to see you two. I’m just … calling my cat.”

  “She’s sniffing around your neighbor’s roses,” Claire said.

  “Oh, thank you. She’s been gone for a couple nights, so I was worried about her.”

  The cat came rollicking over and ran into the little house.

  “Oh, thank goodness she’s okay!” Lacey gripped the screen handle.

  “You didn’t stay the night at the castle?” Zo asked.

  “I couldn’t. I couldn’t sleep.” Lacey touched a shimmery scarf wrapped around her neck and looked at the ground. “All the bats,” she said.

  “Bats?” Claire asked.

  “Yes, they wouldn’t stop screeching. They … they wouldn’t let me sleep.”

  Zo and Claire gave a quizzical glance back and forth. Claire said, “I don’t remember any bats.”

  Just then, the little black cat with white feet came trotting back out to her mistress. Lacey leaned down to pet her. “Oh, Mittens. Please don’t ever leave for that long again.” She knelt on the cobblestone walkway to the porch and nuzzled her nose into her cat’s short fur and smiled. A breeze ruffled Lacey’s hair and suddenly the scarf blew off her neck. It danced along, twirling, until it landed in a nearby bush.

  “Oh no,” Lacey said.

  “I’ve got it.” Zo dashed for the sparkly scarf and gently pulled it off some thorny little twigs. When she handed the accessory back, she couldn’t help but see a couple of inflamed, red scabby dots on the girl’s neck, small but noticeable nonetheless.

  Lacey swept the scarf up and wrapped it back around her neck as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “Well, I better get ready for the day,” she said while walking back up the steps, and then closed both the screen and front door.

  The mother and daughter left and didn’t realize they hadn’t even said anything in response until they looked at each other with wide eyes.

  “What was on her neck? Zo asked, as they continued down the boardwalk.

  “Wounds,” Claire said, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Puncture wounds?”

  Zo nodded, pushing some of her long tendrils back over a shoulder. “That’s kind of a coincidence after mentioning the screeching bats that bugged her last night. What was she wearing at dinner?”

  “A turtleneck,” Claire remembered.

  “Strange…”

  “Strange is right.”

  THREE

  In a quaint coffee shop, sitting in a back corner cove all to themselves, Zo sipped on her mint herbal tea more eagerly than usual. Claire sat beside her, having opted for an onion bagel with her chamomile. Other patrons were sitting alone here and there at their metal tables, reading the paper, or working on their laptops.

  “I don’t get it,” Zo said for the umpteenth time, setting down her drink. “She clearly had marks on her neck she was hiding with that scarf.”

  Claire pulled her cup away from her lips, mid-drink, and swallowed hard. “I wonder if there could be some sort of vampire cult around here. Having Dracula’s castle, along with the obsessive dinner guests that peruse the area, could attract enough weirdoes, right?”

  Zo rocked her ankle and smirked. “You realize you are calling Lucas a weirdo?”

  Claire raised a dark eyebrow and confessed, “I believe I already made that point.”

  “Okay.”

  “But what do you think?” Claire asked.

  “About what?”

  “About a cult of vampires. Not real ones, of course.”

  Zo took a final sip of her tea, sat up in her chair, and asked loudly, “Anyone know of any vampire cultists around here?”

  The frappucino machine stopped whirring; heads turned in the Kanes’ direction.

  Claire’s face flushed red as she picked up a napkin and covered her face with it. “Motherrrr,” she said quietly under her breath.

  “They must be talking about Beth and Lenora,” a worker said, placing her blender aside.

  Zo and Claire expected others to laugh, to indicate that was some sort of joke, but nope. They all had serious expressions, some even nodding.

  The blond worker came out from behind her counter, over to the them. Her hair was up in a spunky twist, and she wore a brown apron with the store’s starfish logo. “Tina, finish up my order,” she said over her shoulder.

  The place stayed silent until she pulled up a chair beside Claire and sat. Then the frappucino machine resumed, the finger-tapping across keyboards continued, and even a TV came to life, showing Kelly Rippa’s smiling face.

  “Lenora and Beth,” the worker, whose nametag said “Cheryl,” repeated. “They are definitely vampire cultists.”

  “They’re the sisters we ate with last night?” Claire asked, as if she would know.

  “Probably. If you are speaking of Dracula’s. They go up to that castle weekly.”

  “Oh? They told us it’s been hundreds of times.” Zo tapped her long nails on the table.

  “They’ve lived here their entire lives. We’ve all seen them go to Dracula’s every week since as long as I can remember. So thousands is more like it.”

  “Why would they say hundreds?” Claire asked.

  “Who knows?!” the woman answered. “Maybe they don’t want to admit just how obsessed they are with that place.”

  Zo leaned in her chair toward their willingly chatty guest. “Do they believe they are vampires, because that is what I meant when I asked if anyone was a vampire cultist from around here.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know, but keep in mind a lot of it is rumor, okay?”

  The duo nodded.

  “Beth and Lenora Binger drink blood, right out of tall glasses with straws. There are some underground clubs where they do this sort of stuff, but I’ve only heard of them being in big cities like San Francisco and LA, or London. Apparently thse two drink blood here, right under our noses.”

  Claire crossed her legs and leaned forward. “How would the, um, witness of such an event know it was blood, unless they were drinking with them. I mean, there are plenty of red drinks—cranberry, raspberry, Hawaiian punch, wine…”

  “A dead cat,” Cheryl cut in, anxious to share the information. “A vet treated a cat brought in on emergency. By the time he went to check its vitals, he realized it already had passed. He found a puncture wound on its neck and went to draw blood for testing, but there wasn’t any left. The blood had been drained.”

  “Okay…” Claire had to admit it sounded like compelling evidence. “But how does anyone link the cat to Lenora and Beth?”

  “It was found in their backyard … along with the two glasses … on their patio table.” That conjured up chills.

  “There were traces of blood left in the glasses,” Zo said, more a statement than a question, adding things up.

  “Yes. That’s what Edna, their neighbor who owned that cat, still declares to this day. No one else saw the evidence of the bloody glasses, but we don’t have reason not to believe her. Now, whenever a cat goes missing it’s blamed on them and their alleged blood-sucking. I’m not saying I believe it, but I’m not saying I don’t believe.”

  Suddenly Claire wasn’t in the mood to finish her chamomile. She slumped back into her hard chair, her eyes narrowed, thinking about it all.

  “So what’s up with this Dracula dude?” Zo decided to ask, changing her position for comfort.

  “He’s played the part for as long as I can remember. A lot of the locals don’t like it. In fact, a lot downright detest it, thinking that its very conception brought evil to our town. It’s not like anyone can bring pitchforks and torches to his door and throw him and his business out of
town, though. He’s not doing anything illegal, and this isn’t the1800s.”

  “Besides the lack of mirrors, it’s not so bad.” Zo shrugged, and glanced down at her shopping bag. “So the man seriously needs a manicure … and a shave … and a new wardrobe, among other things. That’s not the point. He really does play his role well. He’s supposed to be eccentric and spooky, right?”

  “Back to the sisters,” Claire said. “Should we fear them?”

  Cheryl raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t befriend them, is all I’ll say. And if you own any pets, keep them close.”

  Claire looked at her watch, realizing they had been out way longer than anticipated. She cleared her throat and said to her mother, “We were going to check out the old church, remember?”

  “Oh, now that I am excited about!” Zo smiled brightly and thanked their table guest. Before leaving, she said to her, “Now we can come to you anytime with any questions about anyone or anything, right?”

  “Definitely. A little company and break from my daily routine is nice. I’ll see you ladies around.”

  On their way out the door, Zo was rummaging in her purse, searching for her sunglasses, when she bumped into somebody. “Sorry!” automatically flew out of her mouth before she realized who it was. Lenora.

  She was alone, too. Zo glanced at her daughter with a horrific expression, then perked up, finishing the awkward moment by acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “Hello, there!” she said.

  “Yes, hello,” Lenora returned, touching at her gray bun as if it was knocked loose by Zo.

  They stayed there, right out front of the cafe, knowing all the guests’ eyes must be on them and the coincidence.

  “Where’s your sister?” Zo asked. “Still at the castle?”

  “No, we go home. Though it may seem like it, we aren’t always together.” She smirked, and the mother and daughter both zeroed in on the woman’s necklace as she continued on, telling them about how good the dinner was and the good time they’d had last night. Her necklace was a cat, cut out of metal and painted, hanging on a red ribbon.

  “You like cats?” Zo blurted without thinking, and Claire held back her huge urge to elbow her to be quiet.