“You’re really missing out,” Dill added.
“Shut up, Dill,” Harvey snapped back at him.
“Why? He should know.”
“Know what?” Gabe asked, fixing his eyes on Harvey.
Dill too glared at Harvey, who looked outright sullen. “It enhances sex,” he grudgingly admitted.
“Getting fanged makes me cum like a geyser. It’s
fangtastic
,” Dill added with an enthusiastic smile.
Harvey groaned and rolled his eyes. Gabe smothered his surprise. Odd that Harvey had kept this detail from him, but it didn’t really matter. He had no desire to find out what Harvey biting him would feel like, right?
Dill prattled on. “Even better when you do it in a threesome.”
“You’re such a slut,” Harvey said.
Dill beamed back at him. “You say it like it was a bad thing. There’s nothing like a good fang-bang, trust me. You know, for who you are, you’re such a fuddy-duddy.”
“Am not!”
“Are too! You’re like one of those declawed cats. Even worse, you expect everyone to be the same. Spoilsport.”
Recalling Harvey’s scheme involving his tonic, Gabe couldn’t help but smirk. Catching Harvey’s glare, he schooled his features into a neutral façade.
Harvey narrowed his eyes. “Shut up, you two. Do you want me to bite you?”
Gabe preferred to think he didn’t, or at least tried not to think about it. Mainly, he was mindful of Harvey’s dislike of the subject. Even now, anxiety radiated from Harvey, and Gabe wanted to make the tension go away. An old memory flickered through his mind.
“Our sex life is plenty enhanced. Right,
Shnookums
?” The endearment popped into Gabe’s head and onto his tongue without a warning. His first and only girlfriend had called him that sometimes. They hadn’t lasted, but Julie Swinton had really liked him for a spell, until she figured him out for a hopeless case. She was the one who had given him
that look
before.
“Call me that again and I
will
bite you,” Harvey grumbled but couldn’t hide his relieved smile.
Dill made gagging noises. “You make me sick. Are we gonna dance or sit around and gossip like a bunch of old ladies on bingo night?”
They sauntered out to the dance floor. Forgetting their previous squabble, Harvey and Dill had a great time at Gabe’s expense. They had him sandwiched between them, rubbing and writhing from two directions. Gabe was hot and horny in no time, with nothing to do about it. If it were only him and Harvey, he would’ve dragged Harvey out to the nearest alley for some relief. He couldn’t do that with Dill there. Despite appearances, Harvey’s and Dill’s wanton ways were only an act. Gabe knew for a fact Dill was devoted to his daddies and wouldn’t have screwed around even if he dared.
At some point, Gabe had to excuse himself and withdraw to the sidelines. He needed to cool down and catch his breath. He kept an eye on the boys. They looked good together on the dance floor, young and lively, plainly enjoying being inside their own skins.
Gabe envied them and wished he could adjust to his new circumstances as easy. Especially Dill, who not only didn’t have an issue with his vampire lovers biting him, but he adored them for it. Then again, he was a young man, not a seasoned vampire slayer. Gabe had too many urges pulling him in different directions, and he didn’t know which one to follow.
Eventually Harvey and Dill joined Gabe at the sidelines, interrupting his ruminations.
“We’re off to the little boys’ room,” Harvey announced.
“Together?”
“Ray would kill me if I let him out of my sight.”
Dill rolled his eyes behind him. “Like, what are the chances I’ll get kidnapped again?”
“Knowing you, high,” Harvey replied, and they marched off.
Following them with his gaze, Gabe thought he spotted a familiar figure, but it was gone before he could be sure.
The summons from Victor Augustine came the very next day, at dusk. Gabe put on his suit and headed over without delay.
This time, Augustine cut straight to the chase and handed Gabe the police report. He waited silently till Gabe finished looking through it. The victim was Christine Lane, twenty-three years old, single, found dead in her apartment by her roommate. Melinda Holman had woken up in the middle of the night, seen light coming from Christine’s room and knocked. She’d gotten no answer, but, finding the door ajar, she’d peeked in and found her roommate in a pool of blood.
Even in the crime scene photos, Christine’s beauty was evident. Her lips were rouged red to match her hair. By comparison, the blotch of dried blood looked dark and dull. Her wrists were cut.
“A suspicious suicide?” Gabe asked when he was done.
“Yes. Even the police think so.”
“You believe there’s a connection to the other case?”
As usual, Augustine played his cards close to the chest. “I don’t know. It’s up to you to find out.”
Gabe nodded, lost in thought. He’d have to arrange for Denton to be at the scene to do his thing. “It’ll be difficult to get into the apartment.”
“Already thought of that. Ellie has a private detective license for you, to give you some credibility. The rest is up to your personal charm.”
Gabe doubted he had such a thing.
Gabe decided not to wait until morning. He called Denton, who accepted the invitation with his customary upbeat manner. Gabe picked him up, and the two of them drove to the victim’s apartment in Wicker Park.
The roommate turned out to be a plain brunette. She peered warily through the door crack. The clamor of television filtered out from behind her as she studied Gabe’s detective license.
“You’re not a real cop,” she said.
“Private detective. The family is suspicious about Miss Lane’s death.” Gabe gave her what he thought was his most amiable smile.
Melinda Holman looked him over one more time. The sight of the suit seemed to ease her worries. She unchained and opened the door.
“This is my assistant,” Gabe said, gesturing toward Denton, who up till that point had remained out of sight.
Melinda’s whole body tensed in a show of alarm.
“Would you prefer if we left the door open?” Gabe asked to calm her.
She bit her lip, but then she shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” She let them in.
“Could we look at the scene, please?”
She waved her hand toward the far side of the living room. “The left door. You go ahead. I don’t want to see that again. The room’s still like the police left it. The landlord’s supposed to send someone to clean up. Some people do that for a living. Can you imagine?” She wasn’t really asking a question. Gabe figured she rattled on for the same reason the TV was on too loud—to keep herself from thinking. Gabe had been there before and could sympathize.
“Thank you. It’ll only take a minute,” he said.
He and Denton went to the indicated bedroom. It had an exaggeratedly feminine atmosphere. The walls were painted pale lilac and colorful, gauzy fabric hung from the ceiling around the bed. The pink duvet was soaked in blood. Gabe looked about, taking in the setting, but he didn’t learn anything he hadn’t already known from the crime scene photos. Brad Pitt stared down at them from a giant poster. For an eyewitness, he wasn’t any help at all.
“I want to talk to the roommate. Are you gonna be all right by yourself?” Gabe asked.
Denton nodded, eyes already closed in concentration. “I’ll be fine.”
When Gabe returned to Melinda, he found her standing in the same spot where they’d left her, chewing on her fingernails and not looking in the direction of the bedroom. Her hair stuck up in all directions, and dark shadows lined her eyes.
“Melinda, may I ask you a few questions?” He aimed for a light and comforting tone.
Her gaze darted at him, then away. “Call me Mel. Everyone does. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Gabe didn’t. “Yes, that would be great, thank you.”
Pouring coffee and doing normal things appeared to relax her a bit. They sat down at the kitchen table.
“Tell me about Christine. How did you meet?” Gabe started. He made a mental reminder to carry a notebook in the future.
Mel gripped her own cup. “Chrissy and I used to work at the same place. We were both with a temp agency, and one time they sent us to the same company. Office jobs, that sort of stuff. Chrissy is…was an actor, but needed a day job to pay the bills. You know how it is. I was taking a year off college. Sharing an apartment made sense.”
“Were you good friends?”
Mel stared into nothing while she considered the question. “We’ve lived together for years now, but we didn’t have much in common. I mean, we got along fine but didn’t spend a lot of time together outside of these walls.”
“Where did Chrissy spend her time?”
“Auditions, acting classes, temp jobs. She also liked partying. I joined her once or twice, but after I went back to school I didn’t have the time or energy. Those clubs aren’t my thing anyway. I feel out of place.” She sounded almost embarrassed admitting it.
She was a mouse, small and plain. She and Christine couldn’t have been less alike.
“Did she go out last night?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you know where?”
“No, sorry.”
“What time did she come back?”
“I was asleep.” Her eyelids fluttered, and she hid behind her cup.
Gabe had a strong impression she wasn’t quite forthcoming. “Mel, it’s important I know what happened exactly. Remember, I’m not the police. You can tell me anything.”
She lowered her cup but didn’t look up. Gabe waited.
“I…I’d smoked some weed earlier, I was zonked out,” she said in a whisper. She seemed on the edge of tears. “I keep thinking…if I hadn’t, I would’ve known something was wrong, I could’ve done something.”
Gabe reached out to touch her hand.
“You don’t know that. You don’t think she killed herself?”
She shook her head with fierce conviction. “No way. Especially not like that. She couldn’t stand the sight of blood. She nearly fainted the time I got a nosebleed.”
“Did Chrissy take drugs?”
“She smoked some pot and took X a few times, but nothing serious.”
“Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“A jealous boyfriend?”
“No, she hasn’t gone steady with anyone since I’ve known her. She said she’d settle down when she got old.”
“Did she bring guys back here?”
“Sometimes.”
Mel sagged under the rapid-fire questions. Her hand, still lying under Gabe’s, trembled. Gabe softly squeezed her fingers and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. She gazed up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Could she have brought someone back last night?” Gabe asked in a low, coaxing voice.
“I guess. I don’t know.”
“Did she have any strange acquaintances?”
She looked at him uncomprehending. “Strange how?”
“Anyone who made you feel uncomfortable?”
She frowned. “No…I can’t think of any, but I only saw them in passing.”
The discreet sound of coughing came from the doorway. Denton was done. Gabe was out of questions as well.
“Thanks, Mel, that’ll be all. Take care of yourself,” he said, and they left her there, sitting behind the table, worn and crumpled.
Gabe and Denton remained silent until they were in the car.
“She didn’t kill herself,” Denton stated.
“Did you see the killer?”
Denton shook his head. “No. She was drugged. Even the pain didn’t quite wake her up. I’m glad we came this fast—she didn’t leave much of a trace. It’ll fade quickly.”
“So you don’t know if the killer was vampire or not?”
“Not a clue, but I think I smelled the same scent as last time.”
That was big news. “Are you sure?”
“Well, she was pretty out of it, but I’m fairly certain.”
Gabe dropped Denton off and then headed home. He debated whether to report back to Augustine and decided against it. First, he wanted to sort through the whole thing on his own. Chrissy having been drugged troubled him. The killer had overpowered Paul Mayer easy enough. Why would he need to sedate a woman? Maybe Denton was wrong about the smell, and they had a different perp on their hands. Or maybe, Chrissy took something like X herself.
Gabe found the apartment dark and empty. A sticky note on the fridge informed him that Harvey had gone out with Dill, and would be back later. Gabe had no reason to feel annoyed, but he did anyway. Benefits or not, he wasn’t Harvey’s number-one friend. Big deal.
He found the notebook with his earlier notes and wrote down everything from the interview with Melinda before he forgot the details. Next he spread the pages of the police report around on the kitchen table. He was busy poring over every small detail when the front door opened and Harvey strolled in.
“Honey, I’m home!” he called out.
A bulging canvas shopping bag hung from his shoulder. He carefully placed it on the kitchen counter and unpacked it. Jars and bottles of substances unknown to Gabe joined the already numerous jars and bottles there. Soon there wouldn’t be enough room to make a sandwich.
Gabe, feeling irrationally grouchy, grumbled, “You and Dill are as thick as thieves. I can’t tell which one of you is a bad influence on the other.”
“We both are. Anyway, you took my car, and I needed transportation,” Harvey retorted. He took the other chair and dug his laptop out from under Gabe’s papers.
“Where to?” Gabe snapped back, as he slammed his hand on a couple of pages about to tumble off the table.
“I saw Syl and did some shopping.” Harvey didn’t volunteer any more information.
Times like this it was as if they lived two separate lives that touched only at a narrow margin. Gabe arranged his files in a pile and began writing down what he thought were relevant details in his notebook. Harvey booted up his laptop and clicked away doing who knows what. For a while they did their own things in mutual silence. When Gabe got to Chrissy Lane’s crime scene photos, he laid them out, hoping something might jump out at him from them.
Harvey looked away from his screen and down at the photos. The initial repulsion on his face merged into recognition.