Greywalker (18 page)

"TPM has interests in many real estate ventures in the Seattle area," she informed me. "In point of fact, we own the building and lease several suites in it back from the management firm for tax reasons. We also have investments in nonresidential commercial property and many other business ventures not related to real estate."

"And who was using this particular suite at the time in question?"

As fast as she'd opened up, she clammed shut. "That information is privileged."

"Oh, come on, Sweto. It's not like I can't find out."

"I'm sorry. You won't find out from me. Not unless you have a subpoena."

"A what?"

"What sort of case was this again?"

"Misconduct."

"Sorry. I can't talk any further. You'll need a subpoena for me to release that information. Have a nice day." And she hung up on me.

My native curiosity was now leavened with irritation. I went up to the records office and killed several hours looking for deeds and business licenses. They wouldn't give me the names, but they'd give me a start on cracking TPM's shell.

The corporation was privately held, so deep information on TPM was difficult to find, but I made phone calls and one of my contacts offered to fax me everything he had. Another came up with a list or newspaper articles that mentioned TPM. By the end of the day, I expected to be adrift in TPM-related paper.

While those bits of information dribbled in, I tried Philip Stakis's number again.

A woman answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, I'm trying to reach Philip Stakis. Do I have the correct phone number?" I asked.

The woman gasped. "Oh, my God," she shouted. "Can't you just leave us alone?"

"Please don't hang up!" I begged. "I'm not a solicitor or a lawyer or anything like that. I'm a private investigator and I'm just trying to find a piece of furniture." What the hell...?

"Furniture? Oh, yeah, right," she snapped.

"No, really. My client is looking for an old parlor organ that Mr. Stakis bought from Chet Ingstrom of Seattle back in 1990."

She was silent a moment, then said, "Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, we don't have it anymore," she stated in a Long Island drawl.

I restrained my urge to swear. "What happened to it? Do you know, or should I ask Mr. Stakis?"

She laughed harshly. "You'll have a hard time. Phil's dead."

Dead?" I echoed. Another dead guy? "I don't mean to pry, but could you tell me what happened?" "To Phil?" "Yes." "Lung cancer." I sat back, relieved that it wasn't some-thing mysterious and sudden. Then she added, "Or pneumonia, really, but that's what happens when you're too sick to move after being a two-pack-a-day smoker. Died in the prison hospital a little over a month ago, sudden-like. And he'd been doing so good. Hadn't been in trouble since the navy, hadn't smoked in over a year. But he couldn't care anymore."

"What was Phil sent up for?" I asked.

She laughed her raw, barking laugh again. "Being a jackass. Grand theft—he stole a truck full of furniture, only he thought it was a truck full of TVs. Him and a couple of his jackass buddies from back in the day. So you can understand why I was kind of flipped when you said furniture."

"How long had Phil been in prison?" I asked. "This time? About six months. It was just before the holidays he got convicted. Then he got sick just after New Year's. Missed the Super Bowl and everything."

"That's terrible, Mrs. Stakis," I said.

"Oh, I'm not Mrs. Stakis. My name's Lenore Fabrette. I'm—was—Phil's sister. My son and I moved out here to live with Phil when I got divorced. Phil was retired from the navy and he was all the family I had left except Josh, and now it's just me and my boy."

"Do you mind if I ask you just a couple more questions?"

"No. You seem OK, like you actually care, not like some of the little creeps who've been calling."

"Creeps?"

"Local jerks. Some reporter's been trying to make a big deal out of the story, like it's gonna win him a Pulitzer or something. Just a bunch of middle-aged farts being stupid. Phil's criminal past is big news in Anacortes, though. He joined the navy back when we were kids so the court would seal his juvie record, but he got in more trouble in the navy and barely stayed in to retirement. I don't know how they found out, but it was all over the local papers, and me and Josh have been hounded like we had something to do with it."

"That's rough. Umm... what happened to the organ?"

"Oh. Phil gave it away. He said it wasn't worth much, but because it was an antique, taxes on it would be through the roof after he died, so he donated it to some historical society or museum or something like that. I don't know which one, though."

There was hope. "Do you have the tax records for the write-off?"

"No. All that stuff's with his tax guy."

"Could you find out for me? My client really wants that organ. He might be willing to pay you a fee for the information."

"Oh? I don't like to sound greedy, but I could sure use the money. Tell you what. I've gotta go down to Bremerton Thursday. I'll call the guy and see what he says. If he's got the stuff, I'll swing across and drop it on you then. OK?"

I agreed, gave her my numbers and address and hoped she'd come up with something. I left a message for Sergeyev asking if he'd pay for information from Fabrette.

I blew the rest of the day in mundane tasks, like billing, meeting with a lawyer who needed to find a witness, and making more phone calls and trips to the county records office—professional meat and potatoes that were strictly hamburger and home fries.

I finally stopped for some dinner and returned to my office. Cameron drifted in just a step or two behind me. I sat behind my desk and waved him to a seat, straightening up a few things as he sat down.

"All right," I started. "You want me to act as your agent in attempting some kind of reconciliation between you and this other vampire, Edward. Is that right?"

"Um... yeah. I mean, I don't care how Edward feels about me— that's not the issue. I just want the information and help that he should have given me, and I don't want to be a pariah with every other vampire in Seattle. I don't care if Edward helps me, or if he passes the job to someone else," Cam explained, "so long as I get some kind of help."

"What makes you think I can do this job?"

"Who else is going to believe me and not be on Edward's side? You're neutral. And I don't know who else to ask. And even if I had other options, I'd rather work with you. You're... you're tough."

I laughed at that. I felt as tough as wet Kleenex. "I'm new to this world myself, Cameron. You've already exhausted all my contacts among the undead." And if I took this case, I would have no choice about associating with the Grey and its residents.

"I'll give you some names. I think they'll talk to you, just because they're bored. I know I can't expect you to work a miracle, but, hey, it's worth a shot. I'm not doing so great at it."

"Why would Edward even be willing to negotiate with me? What can I offer him?"

"Well, that's what I'm hoping you can figure out by talking to the others. Y'know, maybe once you have a better idea of what the others think, then you'll know what Edward's buttons are and we can push them."

"You've got a lot of confidence in me," I observed.

"Why not? You tracked me down."

"That wasn't as hard as you seem to think. This idea of yours is a different situation. I'm also not quite finished with your mother's case, either. There's still the matter of informing her of your situation," I reminded him.

Cameron squirmed in his chair. "Can't that wait a little longer? Until after we fix this?"

"Have you ever heard the word 'unethical,' Cameron? We have no idea how long it will take to solve your problems with Edward and the rest of the local bloodsucking brotherhood."

"Hey, they're vampires, not lawyers," he joked.

I gave him a thin smile. "I'm willing to try this, but you have to help me with your mother first."

"That kind of sounds like blackmail to me. Isn't that unethical?" he demanded.

"No. It's a contractual obligation. You're the subject of an investigation right now. Until that status changes, I'm not inclined to do anything for you. You want to change that, you need to call your mother and tell her you're all right."

"But that's not true!" he protested.

"Didn't Mara tell you to learn to lie? Start now. It's true enough. But whatever you choose to do, I am going to call Colleen first thing in the morning and tell her I've found you and you're OK. Technically, as your trust's executrix, she's not entitled to more than that. As your mother... that's another matter. You're over twenty-one and not of diminished capacity, but morally... What you choose to tell her is up to you, but you'd better come up with something satisfying, or she'll be on you worse than me."

"Thanks a lot, Harper! What am I supposed to say? 'Hi, Mom, I'm a Vampire?" he shouted at me.

I shook my head and pushed myself deep into my chair. "Cameron, sometimes you are a whiny little brat, you know that? You're spoiled. Oh, and there's something else you should deal with," I added, stabbing a finger at him. "Sarah. You did all this for her, remember?

Leaving her thinking you might be hurt or in trouble is cruel and selfish. And don't start in on another pity-wallow with me. Of all people, Sarah is the most likely to believe your story. She could have ended up the same way. Or worse. If you go and tell her the truth, not only will you be helping yourself, you'll be helping her. She doesn't understand what Edward did, and she's beaten herself up about it. You got into this by playing hero, so play on or take a hike."

He started to say something, then shut his mouth with a click and looked at the floor. "All right. You're right. Do you know where she is? I haven't seen Sarah since this started. I assume she's not staying with Mom."

"She's living in Bellevue, over by the mall."

"At Grandma's house?"

"That's the place. No phone, so you'll have to go there in person."

"I'll go. Right after we're done, I swear."

"Good. She might have some suggestions about talking to your mom, too."

He burst into a megawatt grin. "Yeah, she might!"

"And when you call your mother, ask her to call me," I said.

"You don't trust me?"

"Not one hundred percent. Not yet. Trust isn't a gift, Cameron. You earn it, and it's not cheap."

He shook his head and looked at me sideways. "You are tough."

"So I hear," I said. "Now, give me your list of names and how to get in contact with your vampires. I'll start working on it as soon as I hear from your mom."

He gave me a short list of names and places and we worked out a contract for the job. I shoved my copy in a file and returned my attention to Cameron.

"All right. Now tell me what put the wedge between you and Edward. He looked anywhere but at my eyes and began to fidget. "If you think I'm a bigot who's going to be offended that you went to bed with a man, you can forget it. Half this town's gayer than Paris in the spring."

"I'm not gay," he protested.

"I don't care," I pointed out. "Do you want me to repeat that?"

"No, I get it." He took a deep breath he didn't need and launched in. "He's an arrogant ass."

"How very diplomatic of you to tell him so."

"I did, too."

"Was that all?"

"No. I didn't say that much more, but it was all pretty much on the same theme. I mean, I had figured out that he was weird, kinky, sadistic, and a major control freak before I even got close to him, from what Sarah told me. It took me a while to get how psychotic he is. He just doesn't believe that the consequences of any of his actions are ever going to boomerang on him. He's beyond arrogant. He's a sociopath. Nobody's rules apply to him."

I gave a slow nod. Maybe sociopathy was in the eye of the beholder, in this case. If you're not a mortal, why care what they think? I started mulling the implications, then stopped. Cameron was staring at me, as if he could see the processes revving up in my head. He made a bitter little stretching of his mouth and went on.

"He didn't give a damn about what he'd done to Sarah. It was five minutes' diversion for him, and then he forgot it. He didn't give a damn what he did to me or what he's done to me. He never asked for anyone's consent."

"You said you went along with him willingly in exchange for Sarah," I reminded him.

"I did, but I didn't understand the whole thing. How could I? But he knew I didn't know what I was getting into. I was stupid for jumping into a situation I didn't have a real handle on. But what happened was not what I agreed to. Somewhere along the line, he changed his mind. I didn't know he was going to—to turn me into a vampire! I don't think he meant to, at first. But he just went ahead with what he wanted and he didn't care about what I thought.

"I wasn't mad at first. I was too scared and confused. I didn't know what was happening to me. I still wasn't sure that he was a vampire. I mean, how do you wrap your mind around that concept for the first time? For real?"

I shook my head and shrugged. I hadn't wrapped my mind around it yet, either. Broken contracts I understood. The rest would have to wait.

"When I told him what was happening, he laughed at me," Cameron continued. "He thought it was funny that I was sick and puking because I was trying to eat regular food. Then he explained it to me and he laughed even harder. I was humiliated and upset, but I was so sick I begged him to help me. He agreed because I was 'amusing.'

"I was like a trained monkey that he liked to show off to his friends. I listened to them, though, and I figured out that they knew things weren't going too smooth for me because of Edward. Except for the humiliation, I didn't even care. I was getting through it and that was what mattered to me. But Edward... likes messing with people. Does it like a sport. I mean ordinary humans who have no idea. He can be cold or nasty to other vampires, too, but it isn't the same. He's got a whole collection of butt kissers and flunkies. He treats anyone he thinks is inferior like an animal or a toy. And he seems to think all ordinary humans are just dirt to walk on.

"When I started to feel OK, I told him I didn't like it. I told him, y'know, what comes around goes around. But he was still laughing at me. He said I didn't have any idea what I was talking about, that I was a 'foolish little boy' who was still more animal than vampire, that I should shut up, mind my betters, and do as I was told. He also told me that I should stop thinking that the rules and morals of 'stupid animals' had any hold on a higher species. 'Higher species,'" Cameron snorted.

"I flipped a bit. I told him he was scum. That he wasn't any more evolved than a protozoa whipping its tail through the mud of the primordial ooze. That he wasn't any better than an oversize tsetse fly, sucking the blood of creatures better than him and infecting them with his own brand of sleeping sickness. I said that every society had rules of some kind and that it was only bullies who preyed on those weaker or less fortunate than they and that any reasonable society would pitch someone like him straight into the nearest volcano for recycling."

Cameron slumped back in his chair, the agitation of his recitation seeming to drain him of energy. "He beat the crap out of me. Then he dumped me on a street corner in Tacoma and told me the next time I spoke to him, he'd stake me out on the top of the WashingtonMutualTower for the morning sun. And that's the last word I ever had out of him."

I had to take a couple of breaths and slow my brain back down before I could say anything. "That was quite a speech."