Willie McCoy had been a jerk before he died.
His being dead didn't change that. He sat across from me,
wearing a loud plaid sports jacket. The polyester pants were
a primary Crayola green. His short black hair was slicked
back from a thin triangular face. He had always reminded me
of a bit player in a gangster movie. The kind that sells
information, runs errands and is expendable.
Of course now that Willie was a vampire, the
expendable part didn't count anymore. But he was still
selling information and running errands. No, death hadn't
changed him much. But just in case, I avoided looking
directly into his eyes. It was standard policy for dealing
with vampires. He was a slime bucket, but now he was an
undead slime bucket. A new category for me.
We sat in the quiet air-conditioned hush of
my office. The powder blue walls, which Bert, my boss,
thought would be soothing, made the room feel cold.
"Mind if I smoke" he asked
"Yes" I said, " I
do."
"Damn, you aren't going to make this
easy are you?"
I looked directly at him for a moment. His
eyes were still brown. He caught me looking, and I looked
down at my desk.
Willie laughed, a wheezing snicker of a
sound. The laugh hadn't changed. "Geez, I love it.
Your afraid of me."
"Not afraid, just cautious."
"You don't have to admit it. I can
smell the fear on you, almost like something touching my
face, my brain. You're afraid of me 'cause I'm a
vampire"
I shrugged; what could I say? How do you lie
to someone who can smell your fear? "Why are you here,
Willie?"
"Geez, I wish I had a smoke." The
skin began to jump at the corner of his mouth.
"I didn't think vampires had nervous
twitches."
His hand went up, almost touched it. He
smiled, flashing fangs. "Some things don't
change."
I wanted to ask him, what does change? How
does it feel to dead? I knew other vampires, but Willie was
the first I had known before and after death. It was a
peculiar feeling. "What do you want?"
"Hey I am here to give you money. Become
a client."
I glanced up at him, avoiding his eyes. His
tie tack caught the overhead lights. Real gold. Willie had
never had anything like that before. He was doing alright for
a dead man. "I raise the dead for a living, no pun
intended. Why would a vampire need a zombie raised?"
He shook his head, two quick jerks to either
side. "No, no voodoo stuff. I want to hire you to
investigate some murders."
"I am not a private
investigator."
"But you got one of 'em on retainer
to your outfit."
I nodded. "You could hire Ms. Sims
directly. You don't need to go through me for
that."
Again that jerky head shake. "But she
don't know about vampires the way you do."
I sighed. "Can we cut to the chase here
Willie? I have to leave'" - I glanced at the wall
clock - "in fifteen minutes. I don't like to leave a
client waiting alone in the cemetery. They tend to get
jumpy."
He laughed. I found the snickery laugh
comforting, even with the fangs. Surely, vampires should have
rich, melodious laughs. "I'll bet they do, I'll
just bet they do." His face sobered suddenly, as if a
hand had wiped his laughter away.
I felt fear like a jerk in the pit of my
stomach. Vampires could change movements like clicking a
switch. If he could do that, what else could he do?
"You know about the vampires that are
getting wasted over in the district?"
He made it a question, so I answered.
"I'm familiar with them." Four vampires had
been slaughtered in the new vampire club district. Their
hearts had been torn out, their heads cut off.
"You still working with the
cops?"
"I am still on retainer with the new task
force."
He laughed again. "Yeah the spook squad.
Underbugeted and undermanned, right?"
"You've described most of the police
work in this town."
"Maybe, but the cops feel like you do
Anita. What's one more dead vampire? New laws don't
change that."
It had only been two years since Addison v.
Clark. The court case gave us a revised version of what life
was, and what death wasn't. Vampirism was legal in the
good ole U. S. of A. We were one of the few countries to
acknowledge them. The immigration people were having fits
trying to keep foreign vampires from immigrating in, well,
flocks.
All sorts of questions were being fought out
in court. Did heirs have to give back their inheritance? Were
you widowed if you spouse became undead? Was it murder to
slay a vampire? There was even a movement to give them the
vote. Times were a-changing.
I stared at the vampire in front of me and
shrugged. Did I really believe, what was one more dead
vampire? Maybe. "If you believe I feel that way, why
come to me at all?"
"Because your the best at what you do. We
need the best."
It was the first time he had said
"we". "Who are you working for
Willie?"
He smiled then, a close secretive smile, like
he knew something I should know. "Never you mind that.
Moneys real good. We want somebody knows the night life to be
looking into these murders."
"I've seen the bodies, Willie. I gave
my opinions to the police."
"What'd you think?" he leaned
forward in the chair, small hands flat on my desk. His
fingernails were pale, almost white, almost bloodless.
"I gave a full report to the
police." I stared up at him, almost looking him in the
eye.
"Won't even give me that, will
ya?"
"I am not at liberty to discuss police
business with you."
"I told 'em you wouldn't go for
this."
"Go for what? You haven't told me a
damn thing."
"We want you to investigate the vampire
killings, find out who's or what's doing it.
We'll pay you three times your normal fee."
I shook my head. That explained why Bert, the
greedy son of a gun, had set up this meeting. He knew how I
felt about vampires, but my contract forced me to at least
meet with any client who had given Bert a retainer. My boss
would do anything for money. Problem was he thought I should,
too. Bert and I would be having a "talk" very
soon.
I stood. "The police are looking into it.
I am already giving them all the help I can. In a way, I am
already working on the case. Save your money."
He sat staring up at me, very still. It was
not that lifeless immobility of the long dead, but it was a
shadow of it.
"Why won't you help us?"
"I have clients to meet Willie. I am
sorry that I can't help you."
"Won't help you mean."
I nodded. "Have it your way." I
walked around the desk to show him the door.
He moved with a liquid quickness that Willie
had never had, but I saw him move and was one step back from
his reaching hand. "I'm not just another pretty face
to fall for mind tricks."
"You saw me move."
"I heard you move. You're the new
dead Willie. Vampire or not, you've got a lot to
learn."
He was frowning at me, hand still half
extended towards me. "Maybe, but no human could've
stepped outta reach like that." He stepped up close to
me. Plaid jacket nearly brushing me. Pressed together like
that, we were nearly the same height - short. His eyes were
on a perfect level with mine. I stared hard at his
shoulder.
It took everything I had not to step back from
him. but damnit, undead or not, he was still Willie McCoy. I
wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.
He said "You ain't human any more
than I am."
I moved to open the door. I hadn't stepped
away from him. I had stepped away to open the door. I tried
to convince the sweat along my spine there was a difference.
The cold feeling in my stomach wasn't fooled either.
"I really have to be going now. Thank you
for thinking of Animators, Inc." I gave him my best
professional smile, empty of meaning as a light bulb, but
dazzling.
He paused in the doorway "Why won't
you work for us? I gotta tell em something when I go
back."
I wasn't sure, but there was something
like fear in his voice. Would he get in trouble for failing?
I felt sorry for him and knew it was stupid. He was undead,
for heaven's sake, but he stood looking at me, and he was
still Willy, with his funny coats and small nervous
hands.
"Tell them, whoever they are, that I
don't work for vampires."
"A firm rule?" Again, he made it
sound like a question.
"Concrete."
There was a flash of something on his face,
the old Willy peeking through. It was almost pity. "I
wish you hadn't said that, Anita. These people don't
like anybody telling them no."
"I think you've over stayed your
welcome. I don't like to be threatened."
"it ain't a threat, Anita. It's
the truth." He straightened his tie, fondling the new
gold tie tack, squared his thin shoulders and walked out.
I closed the door behind him and leaned
against it. My knees felt weak. But there wasn't time for
me to sit here and shake. Mrs. Grundick was probably already
at the cemetery. She would be standing there with her little
black purse and grown sons, waiting for me to raise her
husband from the dead. There was a mystery of two very
different wills. It was either years of court costs and
arguements or raise Albert Grundick from the dead and
ask.
Everything I needed was in my car, even the
chickens. I drew the silver crucifix from my blouse and let
it hang in full view. I have several guns, and know how to
use them. I keep a 9mm Browning High Power in my desk. The
gun weighed a little over two pounds, silver bullets and all.
Silver won't kill a vampire, but it will discourage them.
It forces them to have to heal the wounds, almost human slow.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt and went out.
Craig, our night secretary, was typing
furiously on the computer keyboard. His eyes widened as I
walked over the thick carpeting. Maybe it was the cross
swinging on its long chain. Maybe it was the shoulder rig
tight across my back and the gun out in plain sight. He
didn't mention either. Smart man.
I put my nice little courderoy jacket over it
all. The jacket didn't lie flat over the gun, but that
was okay. I doubted the Grundicks and their lawyers would
notice.
End of Chapter One.
Sorry! That's it for chapter one. See your favorite
bookseller to read the rest of the story.