The Vampire Files Anthology

by P. N. Elrod

  Doc, surprised as any of them, surveyed the bodies. “Hoowee, boy, remind me not to get you riled.”

  I stooped to pick up the bundle of cash. The homemade paper band holding it together was labeled with the amount. I’d used ten grand for a distraction, money well spent, I’d say, especially since it was going right back into my pocket.

  “What is that?” asked Doc, peering.

  “Never mind, get in the car before more of ’em show.”

  The two men I’d punched were starting to recover. I rudely interrupted, making sure they wouldn’t be waking up any too soon, leaving them just where they dropped on the bare ground. It was too much to hope that they’d freeze. The air was cold, but not that cold.

  I opened the rear door while Doc hobbled around to the passenger side and got settled.

  “Now what?” he demanded.

  I grunted, busily hefting Maxwell into the backseat. The floorboards were all full up with bulging laundry bags. “He probably knows where Opal is. When he comes to I’ll have a few questions for him.” He didn’t make a sound as he flopped loose over the chill leather upholstery. After a quick search, I lifted a .22 semi-auto from his inside coat pocket. Either he relied on the gorillas to keep him safe or he was a good enough shot with it to be comfortable with a small-caliber gun. That, or anything larger messed up the lines of his suit. I shoved his legs in and slammed the door to stop them from slithering out.

  Gave the house a glance, worried that someone had heard the noise, but it was so far so good for the moment. I hopped up behind the wheel and worked the key and starter. The motor made some sound coming to life, then eased back to its usual soft purr. Getting to like this car would be a very easy thing to do.

  No need to spin the steering wheel much since we were already pointed in the right direction, so I hit the gears and gas and headed her easy does it down the rise toward the road so as not to draw attention from the house. The bigger the head start we had before the gorillas came to, the better.

  We made it to the main road and I gunned it.

  Doc sat halfway turned around to face me and to keep an eye on Maxwell in the back. “Well, I owe you one, Fleming.”

  “You sure as hell do.”

  “And you’ve got something in mind about how I should pay it off, don’t you?”

  “Just get us both to Angela tonight and I’ll call it even.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You’ll what?” The car swerved as my attention shifted toward him.

  “Watch the damn road!”

  I gritted my teeth to keep the bad language in so the air wouldn’t go blue around our ears. When I had some control back I said, “You’ll think about it?”

  “You heard me. Getting out of there was just too easy. Great Aunt Hattie, three armed guys against just you?”

  “I’m stronger than I look.”

  “They dropped mighty easy, maybe a mite too easy.”

  “You think it was a setup? A show? Why don’t you check on Maxwell? See if his eyes are uncrossed yet.”

  “So maybe you didn’t pull all your punches.”

  Actually, I had done just exactly that so as not to kill anyone, though God knows I’d had enough provocation for one night to forget myself.

  “Maybe you got a feud goin’ with Sullivan’s watchdog and—”

  “Oh, for cryin’ out loud, can’t you believe what you see with your own eyes?”

  “Not since the last time the shakes got me and I had rats coming out of my shoes to dance the polka.” He was absolutely serious.

  “Then how about I turn back around and drop you on their front porch? I’m sure Sullivan’d love to see you again. When it comes down to it I don’t really need you to find Angela, my guess is she’ll find me, sooner or later.”

  “You’re right on that one, boy, but I suspect it’d be a lot better for you if you found her first.”

  “There might be a few less bullets and grenades in the air, yes. It’d be better for everyone.”

  “Made an impression on you, did she? Quite a gal.” He chuckled.

  “So? Are you gonna tell me where to drive?”

  “Just head on like you’re doing and give me some thinking time.”

  There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot else to do, so I shut my mouth and drove, keeping us steady and within the speed limit. The last thing I wanted was a cop pulling me over with an unconscious man in the back lying on top of all those bags of cash. It wouldn’t be a problem to send him or anyone else along with a conveniently altered memory, but I just didn’t want the bother or headache.

  The cross streets slowed us with their signals. I was a little worried Doc might bolt while we were stopped, but he sat at his ease, occasionally glancing at Maxwell. I checked on him as best I could in the rearview mirror, but only saw part of his brown raincoat.

  “Suede,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Huh?” said Doc.

  “Why in hell would anyone want a suede raincoat? It shows all the water marks.”

  Doc considered the question and shook his head, too. “You got me there. Why not ask him when he wakes up?”

  “I just might. You make any decisions about taking me to see Angela?”

  “Up to a point.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m wondering what you plan to do with four-eyes back there.”

  I’d been thinking about that myself, but was fairly certain Escott could help with that problem. I just had to find a phone. Luck was against me as there didn’t seem to be any all-night drugstores in this area. The ones I knew about were miles away. A gas station, then. Jeez, but this part of town was deserted. Lonely spots like where we were driving always gave me the creeps. Crowded during the day and a ghost town at night, it just wasn’t natural.

  “Fleming?”

  “What?”

  “Maxwell. What you got planned for him? Hey . . . you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m peachy.” It was catching up with me, all the strain of the last few hours and the ones before them and the ones before them. Maybe I should make a stop at the Stockyards before I stretched myself too thin. Not much chance of that unless I could get Doc to take a doze while I went off to feed. Maybe he’d sobered up some and I could work with him.

  “What about Maxwell?” he prompted again.

  “He stays with me, Angela doesn’t get him.”

  “But she might find a use for him in dealing with Sullivan.”

  “I’m sure she would—before plugging him once and dumping him in the lake.”

  Doc didn’t contradict my prediction, only made a throwing-away gesture as if to agree with me. I felt a sharp pang in my chest, right over my heart where the bullet had gone in and changed my world forever. Angela’s father had plugged me and dumped me in the lake not so very long ago. Perhaps it was a family tradition. Now and then the memory would still flash up in my mind, inspiring either a wince or a shudder, depending on my mood. This time I just ground my teeth some more and took one hand off the wheel long enough to rub the spot till it stopped tingling.

  “It’d sweeten her up some to have Sullivan’s secretary,” Doc said after a moment. “He’d make a mighty fine lever against that Irish bastard.”

  “What I’ve learned tonight is when the wrong side has you, your so-called friends start putting in orders for the funeral wreaths. She wasn’t going to budge an inch for your sake, so why should Sullivan be different from her?”

  “Good point,” he admitted.

  “And why should you want to cozy up with her again, anyway? She was willing to leave you to them.”

  He shrugged. “Because that’s just how things are. Since you don’t seem to understand it—”

  “I understand all right, I just don’t like it.”

  “Then the best thing for you is to get out while you’re still in one piece. Whyn’t you just drop me off by one of the L’s and I’ll find my own way from there?”

  “Uh-uh.”


  “I’ll tell her you left town for good. She’d believe it comin’ from me.”

  My head wanted to hurt again. “No. We’re going to find a phone, and after I get some help with Maxwell, you’re going to call Angela and persuade her to set up a meeting place for the three of us. Tonight.” Whether Doc was sober enough for it or not, I’d make it happen.

  I finally found a phone and dialed Shoe Coldfield’s number.

  Escott answered right away, and if he’d been asleep, his voice didn’t sound like it. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve been better. Things have changed since I talked to Shoe. . . .” God, how long ago was it? I gave Escott a rough idea of what had happened since I’d been optimistic enough to tell Coldfield I was fixing up a truce with Angela. Not once did I make any mention of the seven hundred grand in the laundry bags. Doc stood hunched next to me just outside the booth and could hear everything. He wanted to wait in the car out of the wind, but even with the keys in my hand I didn’t trust him enough to leave him alone in it. “I got one of Sullivan’s top boys with me and need to put him on ice for a couple hours until I’m squared away with Angela. It needs to be someplace quiet, and you shouldn’t have any trouble with him. He’s out cold right now, but bring some rope and a gag, just in case.”

  “Done your Svengali act on him, have you?”

  “More like a right cross, but I do have to talk to him, find out where they’ve taken Opal. Doc says she’s being looked after, but I don’t trust any of them.”

  “That goes without saying. I’m sure I can make some sort of arrangement.”

  “Can you come meet me? I don’t want Doc seeing anything he shouldn’t.” Better for us all if he didn’t know where Coldfield hung his hat. I gave him the name of the street and the nearest cross street. After backing the car into an alley, Doc and I had walked the dozen or so steps to the phone on the corner by a closed gas station. We were right under a lamp. It made harsh blue shadows on his creased face, aging him, and probably wasn’t too flattering to me, either, not that I gave a damn. I heard Escott repeating the names aloud and Coldfield rumbling a reply in the background.

  “Shoe knows the area. We should be there in about a quarter hour, perhaps a bit more.”

  “You in any shape to come?”

  “I’m well enough.”

  He was probably lying so he wouldn’t miss anything. Wouldn’t his eyes pop once he saw what was in the laundry bags? He could watch Doc while Shoe and I shifted them. I wasn’t about to take that Caddie with the cash anywhere near Angela.

  “What about yourself?” he asked.

  “I’m . . . tired.” Escott didn’t speak for a moment, maybe trying to figure out how much I wasn’t saying because of Doc’s presence. For me to admit I was less than perfect physically and in just that tone meant more than if anyone else said it. Escott knew how much it took to seriously knock the wind out of me. “Just get here as soon as you can and take this guy off my hands for a while.”

  “We will.”

  “Things been quiet on your end?”

  “Like a church.”

  “What about that friend of yours we met at the movie house?” No need to mention Merrill Adkins in front of Doc, either.

  “What of him?”

  “Think he’d be interested in taking in another boarder once I’m finished with him?”

  “I’m sure he’d be delighted.”

  “But only after I’m done.”

  “Of course.”

  “Great. See you.” I hung up.

  Doc was shivering in the cold, so I led us back to the car and started it up to get the heater running. I let it idle for five minutes to take the chill off then shut it down. The only thing interrupting the silence was the wind whispering outside, the engine ticking as it cooled, and the sound of blood being pumped through two living bodies. Doc’s breath grew harsh and sometimes uneven. He had the fidgets.

  “I need a drink,” he finally announced, looking miserable. “You got a flask?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about him?” He nodded at Maxwell.

  I shrugged.

  “Think I’ll check him and find out.”

  “Leave that to me.” I leaned over the backseat and slapped him down again and gave Doc the bad news.

  “Damn.”

  On the other hand, Maxwell was awake. I sensed the change in him; something about his breathing and heartbeat tipped me off. I shook him good and told him to stop fooling around and sit up.

  His eyelids dragged open, and after a minute he pushed away from the seat and looked around. Being new in town, he probably didn’t recognize the area. If he was used to civilized ivy-covered walls, then this spot would be anything but comforting to him. He was in a bad place, in more ways than one, once he got a look at my sour expression.

  “Where’s Opal?” I asked.

  He blinked a few times, coughed, and rubbed his bruised and swollen jaw. Taking stock, probably.

  “Where?”

  Now he took off his glasses, fumbled for a handkerchief, and cleaned them. He carefully did not look at me now, but let his gaze check out everything else, the doors, the alley walls, a glimpse for the laundry bags.

  “I know a stall, Maxwell, so don’t push it. Tell me where Opal is and I’ll leave you all your teeth.”

  He gave me that gentle smile. The unpleasant tinge in it was gone, replaced by a touch of genuine fear. I hoped it would make him sensible. “Yes, I’m sure you’re quite capable of that sort of violence, Mr. Fleming. I just wanted time to think things over.”

  It must be catching, I thought, sparing a glance for Doc, who gave an amused snort. I worried that he might notice something if I had to put the eye on Maxwell, but maybe hypnosis wouldn’t be necessary. Max seemed willing to talk. “Got everything worked out, I hope?”

  “Sadly, yes, and I will cooperate so long as you refrain from further mayhem.” He lightly touched his jaw.

  “Deal. Where’s Opal?”

  “She is in a safe place and being very well looked after. Mr. Sullivan was quite upset about her injury, so he is seeing to it she has the best care at his disposal.”

  “Where?”

  The smile turned chagrined. “This is something of an embarrassment. I know how to get there, but I didn’t take an exact note of the address. I’m not all that familiar with the town, you see.”

  “Uh-huh. Doesn’t make you much of a secretary, does it?”

  “An oversight that won’t happen again, I promise.”

  Stalling again. I was ready to put him into zombie land.

  He must have picked up on my loss of patience and raised an unsteady hand in mild protest. “However, I can give you directions on how to get there. I’ll write them down. It’s sort of a clinic, not too very far from the roadhouse.”

  I looked at Doc. “You know of any place like what he’s talking about?”

  “Well, now that he’s bumped my memory, I think I do. One of Kyler’s projects I heard tell of, but I figured it to just be one of them stories that goes around.”

  “What is it exactly?” I asked Maxwell.

  “Something like a way station for men who wish to drop from sight. They get a chance to rest and think while they put a new face on their situation, you might say.”

  “What—like plastic surgery?”

  “If it’s necessary. Very expensive, of course, but worth it if it successfully puts the police off your track.”

  Doc shook his head, amazed. “Well, if that don’t beat all.”

  Maxwell fairly glowed with pride. “Oh, yes, and it’s quite up-to-date. None of the old chamber of horrors makeshift and hope for the best. The place has a nice little operating room, very clean, and a qualified surgeon. Mr. Sullivan notified him of our problem with Miss Opal, so he was more than happy to make himself available to see to her care.”

  “Who is it?” asked Doc.

  “Oh, I doubt that you’re acquainted with him,” he said with
a sniff. “Our man managed to graduate from medical school.”

  “You son of a—I’ll have you know I—”

  “Put a lid on it,” I said. “Okay, Maxwell, give with the directions.”

  “I’ve pen and paper in my pockets, if you’ll allow me to—”

  “Allow away.”

  He fumbled with his coat, searching. His hands brushed the pocket that had held his .22, but if he was disappointed at it being empty, he covered it well. “The light here is very bad.”

  I turned on the small overhead bulb.

  He hauled out a little leather-bound notebook and tore out a page, then produced his fat-bodied fountain pen. Pricey stuff, I noted. Probably had it custom-made, though he wasn’t vain enough to have his initials stamped on in gold lettering.

  “Here now,” he said, starting to scribble a rough map. “You go up the lane behind the roadhouse . . . oh, damn. What a time to run dry.” He fiddled impatiently with the pen, making a face. I wondered for an instant if he was going to be stupid enough to try squirting ink in my eyes, but he made whatever adjustment he wanted and tried writing again. “I’m terribly sorry, but the blasted thing is—have either of you a pen or pencil?”

  Doc snorted in disgust and leaned back against the door to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I really, and I mean really need a drink.”

  Keeping my eyes on Maxwell, I reached into my inside coat pocket and found a pencil by touch, held it out to him over the seat.

  “Thank you. I’m afraid all this activity has me a bit rattled. Usually I’m not like this.”

  “Just write,” I said.

  “Yes, yes, of course.” He nervously reached for the pencil, pen still in hand.

  He should have put the pen away. The movement suddenly became too aggressive, too fast, and it was over and done before I even thought about reacting. He caught me right on the inside wrist with the pen, only instead of a stab with the blunt point of a nib, it was something sharp, stinging.

  I snarled and yanked my arm back like I’d been burned, dragging the pen with me. It startled Doc, who looked up, eyes wide.

  Maxwell hit the latch on the door and scrabbled clear of the car.

  The pen stuck up at an incongruous angle from my wrist and hurt like blazes. I figured it for some kind of a retractable stiletto, as there was a long needle coming out of it that he’d buried in me. Nasty little weapon. I slapped it free like swatting an especially ugly bug, and madder than hell shot out of the car to chase Max down. He hadn’t gotten far, was probably still rocky from the punch I’d given him earlier. I caught up with him in ten steps, snagged his coat to haul him into range of my fist, and gave him another sock to remember me by. He dropped.