Night of the Living Dandelion (8 page)

“Let’s look at the big picture,” I said. “The woman’s car was abandoned behind Vlad’s building with her purse inside containing a piece of hospital stationery with Vlad’s name and number on it, and her PDA containing a restaurant reservation that had been phoned in by a person claiming to be Vlad. Doesn’t that smell like a setup to you, Reilly? I mean, how many more ways could someone try to pin the blame on the poor guy?”

Reilly did his hat trick again, meaning he was annoyed with me. “I guess that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

I looked at Marco and gave him a shrug. I’d tried.

“Vlad needs to get himself printed right away if he wants to clear his name,” Reilly said, standing up. “He’s not doing himself any favors by being MIA today.”

“He’s not MIA unless he doesn’t show up for his shift,” Marco said.

The men glared at each other.

“Just make sure Vlad gets in touch with us,” Reilly said. “Maybe he can tell us who might be trying to frame him. And be sure to caution him to watch his back.”

After Reilly left, I said, “I’ve never heard you guys argue like that.”

“Reilly should’ve been straight with me from the beginning,” Marco grumbled. “I don’t like being grilled under the pretense of having a favor done for me.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a pretense, Marco. Even though Reilly is officially on the case, he’s still your friend. Sure, he’s suspicious of Vlad, but he is a cop. It goes with the territory. As he said, he can’t ignore the evidence. And stop looking at me like I’m siding with Reilly. I’m just trying to understand where he’s coming from.”

Marco picked up the phone, dialed a number, and waited a long minute before slamming down the receiver. “Where the hell is Vlad?”

He pocketed his car keys and rose.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To find my AWOL buddy.”

T
he Casa Royale had been a church in its first life. After a century of use and a lot of structural disintegration, it had been sold to an enterprising developer who gutted the insides and remodeled it into modern apartments. The Gothicstyle building was located four blocks north of the square, normally a nice walk from Bloomers. Because of my injury, however, Marco drove us there, which gave me the opportunity to discuss the family dinner with him.

“I’m sorry, Sunshine, but I don’t think I should leave the bar this evening. Let Jillian tell the family we’re engaged. I’m sure they’re all expecting it. We can let them know about the letter next Friday.”

“Having Jillian make the announcement is not how I want my parents to find out. Imagine how hurt your mom would be to hear from my cousin that her son is getting married.”

“Won’t be a problem. I forgot to invite her.”

“Marco!”

“I’m sorry, babe. With everything going on, it slipped my mind. Look, call your mom right now and tell her. As soon as I park the car, I’ll call mine, too.”

“My mom is in class—and don’t tell me to leave a message.”

“Then call your dad.”

I sighed. He didn’t understand mothers and their need to have firsthand information. “Never mind. I’ll think of something.”

“I have to be honest with you, Abby—I’m not too concerned about how our families find out. They’re not children. They’ll be happy for us no matter who tells them. And if not, what’s the worst that can happen? They boycott our wedding?”

“My mom would sooner be dragged naked through town than miss my wedding.”

“So elopement is out, then.”

“I don’t know, Marco. I’m so confused. Maybe we shouldn’t make any plans about the wedding until we know what the army wants with you.”

“You know, that’s probably a wise move.”

“I’ll have to work on Jillian, then. When we were kids, I always managed to get her to do what I wanted.”

“How?”

“Bribery.” But Jillian had everything now. What could I use? Nikki’s advice would be to ask the universe for help. So far, though, that route had been nothing but a black hole.

My attention was drawn to a large crowd of people standing on the sidewalk across from the apartment building. Some were taking photographs and others were waving signs that read NO VAMPIRES IN NEW CHAPEL. A short distance up the street, cops watched from patrol cars.

“I’m ashamed of our townsfolk,” I told Marco as we passed the cops. “They’ve judged Vlad based on stupid rumors. If I were Vlad, I’d leave and never come back.”

Marco turned a corner and headed up an alley to the parking lot behind the church. “You have to understand Vlad, Abby. He doesn’t care what people think of him. Those signs won’t bother him. He’s a very focused guy.”

“Maybe so, but it’s still unfair.”

“It is what it is.”

That was Marco’s way of ending a conversation. He pulled into an empty parking space and shut off the motor. “I’m going inside to see if Vlad answers his door. Want to wait here or come with me?”

“Come with you.” My desire to see where Vlad lived was greater than my fear of having a mishap with the Evil Ones. I opened the passenger door and waited for Marco to help me.

“Is this the lot where Lori Willis’s car was found?”

“Yep.” Marco pulled the crutches from the backseat and held them so I could balance on my good foot and get the crutches under my armpits, and then he followed me up the sidewalk to the rear entrance.

I saw steps ahead and had second thoughts about my decision. “You’d better go on without me. I don’t even want to attempt stairs.”

“Not a problem. I’ll carry you.”

After toting me, the crutches, and my purse up five concrete steps, then having to maneuver inside while holding a heavy wooden door open, Marco may have regretted his gallant offer. While he caught his breath, I rebalanced on the crutches. “That was way too easy,” I said.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I meant getting into the building. There’s no security.”

“The contractor probably cut corners.”

“A contractor cutting corners? Hard to imagine.”

“Vlad’s apartment is on the lower level, number four,” Marco said, consulting a slip of paper. “Let’s take the elevator.”

We rode down, then walked along the central hallway until we reached the last door, marked with a brass numeral. Marco knocked several times, called Vlad’s name, then tried to reach him on his cell phone, but we didn’t hear any ringing from the other side of the door.

Outside the building, Marco walked along the back of the old church until he found Vlad’s ground-level windows, but he couldn’t see in because the shade was closed.

“Maybe Vlad left New Chapel after all,” I said, as we headed toward Marco’s green Prius.

“He wouldn’t leave without letting me know. I’m sure there’s a good reason why he isn’t answering his phone.”

For Marco’s sake, I hoped so. But I kept remembering Reilly’s words:
Something tells me there’s more to that guy than meets the eye.

 

By the time we got back to the square, more people had gathered on the courthouse lawn. When they saw the Prius stop at the curb in front of Bloomers, they waved signs at us and chanted, “No vampires in New Chapel!”

Marco ignored them as he came around to help me out of the car. Grace took over from there and held the door while I peg-legged it inside, where Lottie was waiting with the wheelchair. It took a village to get me into the shop.

“We have to get an automatic door opener for Bloomers,” I told my assistants as Lottie stowed the crutches. “I never realized what a pain it could be to open a door while trying to balance on chopsticks. I don’t know how I’d make it through in a wheelchair.”

“An automatic door opener is a splendid idea,” Grace said. “Shall I get estimates?”

“Yes, please.”

“Big bunch of people across the street,” Lottie said, peering out the bay window. “Seems like most everyone in town is waiting for Vlad to—Uh-oh. Here comes trouble with a capital
J
.”

Both of my assistants scattered. The door opened, the bell jingled, and in flew Jillian, a look of panic on her face. “Abs, I need to talk to you.”

She grabbed the handles of my chair and pushed me as fast as she could through the curtain. Then she turned my desk chair around to face me and sat down. “I need a really, really big favor,” she said.

Sometimes the universe actually listened. “Good. We can trade favors.”

She gripped the arms of my wheelchair. “Clayton’s boss is going to make him a partner. Isn’t that fantacious?”

“
Fantacious
, Jill? Would you stop making up words? You’re not twelve anymore.”

“Did you hear what I said? Clayton is going to be a
partner
! He found out forty-two minutes ago. His boss invited us to dinner at their house to make it official.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “Abby, the dinner is going to be
catered
! Do you understand how much money it takes to get a dinner catered at the last minute?”

“Way more than I’ll ever make.”

Jillian sighed dreamily. “Someday I’ll be able to have dinners catered at the last minute.” She sniffled, as though she was about to cry.

“I’m happy for you. What’s the favor?”

“Hold off on your announcement for a week.”

I tugged on my ears. “I’m sorry. What?”

Jillian gripped my wrists. “I have to be there when you tell the family, Abs. I
need
to see their reactions.
Promise
me you’ll wait until next Friday to make your announcement.”

“I promise. Stop squeezing. I’m losing feeling in my fingers.”

She stood up, beaming. “Perfect.”

If she only knew.

“So what favor did you want from me?”

I blinked at her. “I forget.”

“If you’re going to ask me to escort Vlad home again,” she said, “you’re out of luck.”

“Why would I ask you to escort Vlad home?”

“Didn’t he tell you how I helped him escape last night?”

“What are you talking about?”

Jillian sat down, crossing one long leg over the other. “Clayton and I and some friends were at Down the Hatch, and right before closing time, this group of scuzzy males claiming to be members of the Garlic Party came in looking for Vlad.”

“The Garlic Party?”

“Haven’t you seen them across the street? They wear garlands of garlic cloves around their necks. They’re a group of extremists who believe the youth are being corrupted by vampire books and movies. Their goal is to drive a stake through the heart of anyone who claims to be a vampire or who looks like a vampire. Their leader claims to be a reformed vampire.

“Anyway, they were obviously looking for trouble. One of the bartenders told them to leave, so they did, but then they waited outside. That’s when I had the brilliant idea to have Clayton slip out the back and bring our car through the alley so we could take Vlad home.”

She flipped back her long hair. “Vlad was so appreciative that while we waited for Clayton, he kissed my hand to show his gratitude. Seriously, Abby, what guy does that these days? But if he asks for my help tonight, I won’t be there.” She glanced at her watch, slid off the stool, and started toward the curtain. “Anyway, thanks for holding off on that announcement. Gotta run. Hair appointment in eight and a half minutes.”

“What announcement is that?” Grace asked, gliding into the workroom seconds later.

Thank goodness Jillian hadn’t been specific, because Grace had ears like a bat. “Jillian’s husband is going to be a partner in his CPA firm.”

“How lovely. Do congratulate them for me.” Grace handed me a sheet of paper. “I’ve brought you three estimates for automatic door openers.”

I looked over the numbers and heard the
whoosh
of money as it flew out of my bank account. “Two thousand dollars is the lowest estimate?”

“Shall I get a few more estimates to see if I can find something a bit less costly?”

“Please.”

Grace started toward the curtain, then paused. “Abby, dear, I’m puzzled. Why would you have been the one to make Clayton’s announcement?”

“Make Clayton’s announcement about what?” Lottie asked, walking in behind her.

“He is to become a partner,” Grace said. “And Jillian has asked our Abby to hold off making the announcement.”

“Why would you be the one to make their announcement?” Lottie asked me.

I glanced at the phone on my desk. Now would be a great time for it to ring.

“Because,” I said slowly, “Jillian and Clayton can’t make the family dinner tonight to make the announcement themselves.”

Grace and Lottie exchanged puzzled glances and then Grace said, “Jillian didn’t ask you
not
to make it, only to hold off.”

Okay,
now
would be a great time for the phone to ring.

Still nothing. “Jillian has always liked the way I make announcements.”