Last Vampire Standing (20 page)

“Yes, but you’ve just decorated this place exactly like you want it. Why trade down?”

I gazed around my funky retro kitchen. I
had
put months of time and effort into decorating the cottage, and I loved it. Too, the cottage was twice as big as the beach house, so no way would my things fit in the smaller place. Besides, I loved being close to Maggie, and I could walk to my job.

The rub was that I didn’t own the cottage. Maggie did. I was glad to pay her rent. I insisted on it, in fact. But someday, I wanted my own space. Why not turn the sow’s ear of a shack into—Well, okay, maybe making it a silk purse palace was stretching the laws of probability, but the beach house could look a lot better.

“You have a point,” I admitted, and saw him relax a little. “But, even like it is, I could use the house to stow my board and surfing gear. Besides, I’m itching to tear out all those bushes and vines just to get a better idea of what the house could look like. With vampire strength, I could demo the landscape in the flash of a fang.”

He grinned. “Yeah, you could. I’ll even help you when I can. But,” he said, holding up his hand when I squealed with excitement,

“I’m not living there. In fact, I’m thinking of buying Neil’s house.”

I blinked. “No kidding? When did you see his place?”

“When I picked up the fireworks for the party last week. For the price he said he’s asking, it’s in better shape than anything Amanda’s shown me.”

“Saber, that’s great.”

“We’ll see if it works out,” he said around a yawn.

I got up and took his arm. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“I need to ask you about one more thing.”

“Ask me,” I said, leading him through the kitchen door, “while we walk.”

“Do you know where Triton is right now?”

“No. I’ve tried to talk to him telepathically, but he’s as mysterious as Pandora. He’s in hiding from some big, bad evil, but I never get a sense of where he’s holed up.”

“Have he or Pandora given you anything solid about what’s going on? Anything other than that vague message about betrayal and treachery?”

“No, just that there’s danger. Why?”

“You’ve been shot at twice in a week, and you ask why?”

“Oh. There is that.”

“I don’t suppose you’d wear a Kevlar vest until people stop shooting at you.”

“A Kevlar vest over a bra top camisole? That would get me shot by the fashion police.”

“Cesca, you need to take this seriously.”

“I am, but you know it takes silver directly in the heart or brain to kill a vampire.”

“Or a beheading,” he added grimly.

“No worries about that. I see a sword, and I’m gone so fast, I’m a mere memory.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

018

I cleaned the kitchen, then looked over the rest of the pages Saber had printed for me. I didn’t understand 90 percent of it, but that was okay. I kept going back to the list of Triton’s companies and the places he’d lived. The list started with Cuba and the Florida Keys, then showed him in New Orleans and several coastal cities in Texas, including Galveston. He surfaced in south Florida again for a while, even in St. Augustine in the 1930s. After that, he shifted to cities all along the West Coast. The man knew how to diversify, too. At one time he’d owned interests in shipping, assaying, even timber and land companies. But his main businesses seemed to have been antiques of one kind or another.

And now he was in hiding. Saber wondered why and from what, and so did I. I sure wished somebody would give me a clue sooner rather than later.

I crawled into bed earlier than usual and slept until four when the phone rang.

“ ’Lo,” I muttered into the cordless unit.

“I woke you, huh?” Saber said, chuckling.

“Mmmm. What’s up?”

“Two things. First, I heard from Detective Balch.”

“Oh, yeah?” Balch worked for the St. Augustine Police Department and had been in on the French Bride case. “Dare I hope they caught Gorman?”

“They did, though Balch said they can’t charge him with anything but destruction of property unless a little bird wants to come forward. Then they can hold him for attempted murder.”

“He’d still get out on bail, right?”

“Depends on his lawyer and the judge.”

“Then pressing charges is more trouble than it’s worth. What’s the other thing?”

“I just toured Neil’s house. Cesca, this is the one.”

“You’re sure?” I asked, coming fully alert. “You know what they say about friends buying things from friends.”

“I know, but Maggie helped him update the place, so it’s good. Oh, and Maggie was there, so I mentioned Jo-Jo’s gig tonight. In case she wanted to twist Neil’s arm again.”

“And?”

“She said they’re leaving early tomorrow for two weeks in Savannah. Did you know that?”

Head smack. I’d forgotten all about their trip.

“I knew, I just lost track of time. Are you coming back this afternoon?”

“No. Now that the house looks like a deal, I need to get things rolling to sell my place. Oh, and Neil gave me a key so I can show you the house while they’re gone.” He paused. “You’re bringing Jo-Jo down to Daytona tonight, right?”

“Unless he’s decided to fly.”

“Either way, put out the mental call for Pandora to cover your back. I’ll meet you at the club at ten.”

As soon as I ended the call with Saber, I phoned Maggie. Neil answered, and except when the waves were really bitchin’, I’d never heard him so psyched.

“Hey, Fresca. I sold my house to Deke today.”

“I know. Congratulations. What time are you and Maggie leaving tomorrow?”

“I’ll let her tell you.”

“Cesca, what’s up?” Maggie asked.

“Saber reminded me about your Savannah trip. Can I come over in”—I glanced at the alarm clock I’d bought for Saber’s sake—

“half an hour? You can show me what needs taking care of while you’re gone.”

“You’re on, and plan to stay for sweet tea.”

I showered, dressed, and tossed off my afternoon Starbloods, then spent an hour with Maggie. She had a list of instructions for watering plants both inside and out but said she’d set the thermostat, alarm, and timer for the lights before she left. She’d also put a hold on the newspapers and mail, but had a back-order on cabinet hardware that might be delivered while she was gone. I’d check the front porch for packages daily.

Maggie also told me the neighbors were agog because the Listers had gone on a cruise. Selma had dragged Hugh out of the house, him cursing, her blessing.

The subject switched to wedding plans over my sweet tea and her iced coffee. Neil wandered in to hint they were going to dinner to celebrate selling his house.

I ironed my outfit for the evening at Hot Blooded and generally puttered until it was time to dress. My navy blue Capris, taupe bra top, and taupe cotton jacket were perfect—nice, but not too dressy. No way was I wearing the killer heels tonight, not if I might be going toe-to-toe with Laurel. A ponytail was a touch too sporty for the evening, so I tamed my hair as best I could with the flatiron and left it loose.

Pandora nearly scared me out of my sandals when she
rrryyow
ed from the hood of my truck.

“Geez, Pandora, wear a bell or something.”

She gave me a feline smirk.
I must go with you.

“Are you expecting trouble at the club?”

I must be nearby to stand watch.

“And that’s all you’re saying, huh?” I opened the driver’s-side door. “Fine, get in, but please don’t scare Jo-Jo again.”

No, another time would be a bore.

By nine o’clock, we were headed to Daytona in my SSR, Pandora so quiet on the back floorboard, I don’t think Jo-Jo knew she was in the truck. Then again, Jo-Jo was such a ball of nerves, I’m not sure he knew his name.

“What if Wednesday was a fluke?” he asked for the fifth time in ten miles.

“It wasn’t a fluke,” I assured him yet again. “You’ve had the talent all along. You just needed to update your material and gain confidence.”

“But this is all happening so fast. Getting an agent, having gigs in Las Vegas and L.A. What if it all craters because I haven’t suffered for my art long enough?”

“Jo-Jo, you’ve waited decades to get back into show biz.”

He grinned. “You’re right. That’s long enough.”

Good thing Jo-Jo calmed down after that. I wasn’t nervous for him, but I was a ball of dread about seeing Laurel. I put out the call to every deity I could think of that she’d still be banned from Hot Blooded.

The parking lot was jammed—a good sign, I hoped—but I found a spot near the Dumpster. I also saw Saber get out of his SUV, and breathed a sigh of relief that he’d beat us here. Pandora hopped out and scuttled away, presumably to patrol. Donita, dressed in dark brown slacks and shimmery salmon-colored blouse, met us just outside the club’s back entrance.

“Thank you for doing a show for us, Jo-Jo,” she said when I introduced them. “I’ve spoken with your agent, and seated him at a ringside table. Your drinks are on the house tonight, of course,” she said to Saber and me. Donita smiled and said all the right words, but she was strung as tight as a garrote. As soon as we crossed into the shadowed back hall of the club, I knew why. Laurel was back. Out of sight, but ranting so loudly, the whole club could probably hear her.

“This is a vampire bar, Lord Ike,” she railed from a room somewhere above us. “Mortals should walk the edge of their worst nightmares and darkest fantasies here, not be entertained by a comic. That twit of a manager is turning Hot Blooded into a club just like any other in Daytona.”

A masculine voice answered her, speaking too quietly for me to catch the words, but I heard the clacking beads of human bone that Laurel wore in her cornrows.

I wrinkled my nose at the clacking and at the odor of oranges permeating the hall.

“Where is Laurel?” I whispered to Donita.

She sighed and ran a hand through her curls. “In Ike’s office. His door faces the stairs. She went up just as I went out to meet you.”

I looked up the partly open staircase. Yes, the smell was a little stronger there.

“A thousand pardons,” Laurel screeched, “but I must speak. Having a comic perform here is bad enough, but he brings that pitiful excuse of a vampire bitch Francesca with him. She will infiltrate your territory, Lord Ike. She will take your nest for her own. Surely you must see that.”

Again, we heard Ike’s voice, indistinct but rumbling. It didn’t sound like his happy voice, if he had one. Tempted as I was to turn up the vamp hearing and listen in, I didn’t. Not out of respect but because Saber distracted me.

“When did Ike let her out of solitary?” he asked Donita.

“Thursday.” Donita shrugged apologetically and turned to Jo-Jo. “I’m sorry for this. Let me take you to your dressing room and make you comfortable.”

But Jo-Jo didn’t move. His facial muscles had drawn tight, making his thin face look almost skeletal.

“Jo-Jo,” I said, lightly touching his arm.

He startled.

“What’s up, Jo-Jo?” Saber asked, his cop face sliding into place. “You look like you recognize Laurel’s voice.”

“I do. She sounds like my ex-girlfriend. On steroids. I think I just got nervous again.”

Donita smiled. “Come on. The dressing room isn’t lavish, but it’s quiet. And really, everyone but Laurel is excited you’re here.”

That stretched the truth like a whale in a bikini.

Once Jo-Jo was settled, Donita showed us through an unmarked door. I didn’t recall seeing it during the raid, but the door led to the club proper and wasn’t far from the front row of tables where Vince and Jessica Atlas sat. I introduced Jessica Atlas to Saber, then Vince asked Donita a question that allowed Saber and me to talk. We kept our voices extra low because, in spite of the blaring music, vampires have bat ears.

“Jo-Jo’s reaction to hearing Laurel’s voice was more than he let on, wasn’t it?” I said. Saber nodded. “He’s a sucky liar.”

“Do you think it’s important?”

“I don’t know, but remember those GPS tracker records I ordered on Laurel? They prove she’s been in Atlanta at least once a month since mid-April.”

“Did Jo-Jo actually meet her at Vlad’s, do you think? Or did he overhear her talking?”

“I suppose he could have recognized her voice alone. God knows, she isn’t quiet.”

“What do we do now?”

“Keep an eye on the vamps in here until we can have a discussion with Jo-Jo.”

“Gotcha. By the way, I smell that funny citrus odor again. It was stronger in the back hall than it is in here.”

Our drinks arrived, served by Suzy, the vamp who’d worn the cheerleader outfit when we were here last. Tonight, in jeans and a plain T-shirt, she looked like she wanted to say something, but the music faded, and a spotlight lit a wooden stage skirted with bloodred fabric.

Saber and I exchanged a loaded glance when Ike himself literally and slowly flew over the crowd to land on the stage. He bowed to the shocked audience and stepped up to the standing microphone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his inflection part Alfred Hitchcock, part Vincent Price. “Welcome to Hot Blooded, where you may walk the edge of danger and delight. Tonight we present Jo-Jo the Jester.”