A Girls Guide to Vampires (38 page)

"The chair is very comfortable, I assure you. And the table is a fine example of local craftsmanship. If you would just seat yourself, I believe you will agree."

What did Raphael mean about not giving up on him? What kind of a demand was that for him to make of me? He'd given up on me even before we had a chance, hadn't he? And just what did
give up
mean? Ha! I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to fawn all over him, telling him how marvelous he was no matter how terribly he treated me. How dare he expect me to stay devoted to him, consumed by thoughts of him, thinking of him to the exclusion of all else?

"Miss Randall, my wife is expecting me home for dinner this evening. Shall I tell her otherwise?"

Well, I wouldn't do it! I just wouldn't! If he wanted a devoted slave, a groupie, he could just look elsewhere. I had too much self-respect to turn myself into a doormat just so his manly ego could stomp all over it. Give up on him, ha!

Inspector Bartos sighed, his moustache ruffling with the force of it. I blinked and realized I had been staring at him. "What? Did you just ask me to dinner?"

His lips compressed to a hard line. "Have you returned to us?"

"Returned? What are you talking about? I've been standing here waiting for you. Are you ready now?"

He looked like he wanted to sigh again, but shook his head instead. "Yes, I am ready for you.
If you will please sit?"

The interview didn't cover any new ground. I didn't understand why they wanted me to go over my actions the night before again and again, but figured maybe they were waiting for me to suddenly crack and admit I killed Tanya, or make some glaring mistake retelling my story that would indicate I was lying through my teeth. I did neither.

Until he started asking the
hard
questions.

"Is it true that two days ago Tanya Renauld said to you"—he flipped a couple of pages in his notebook—"that she would
only be happy when you were dead
?"

My stomach wadded up into a tiny ball and rattled around my body. I wondered who had snitched on me—Roxy? Christian? It had to be Roxy; I doubted the inspector had found Christian before he disappeared for the day. I frowned at that thought, wondering why Christian had remained silent through the night if he was innocent. Could he have been wounded somehow? Restrained by some means? In light of his innocence, his silence took on a new, more worrisome meaning.

"Um… maybe."

Inspector Bartos looked up from his notebook.
"Maybe?
Could you be more specific? Did she threaten you or not?"

My palms started sweating. "Well… yes, she did. But she was very angry—"

"Immediately upon threatening your life, did she throw a bucket of water on you?"

There was no use denying it; too many people had seen us. I gnawed on my lower lip and nodded.

"Was it your impression that she was serious in her threats to you?"

I hesitated. I didn't want to lie, but I couldn't see what good telling him that she was in deadly earnest would do anyone. "Although I didn't really know her, it was fairly obvious that Tanya was a very volatile person. She was also extremely irate over the fact that her boyfriend was using me to make her jealous—without my permission, as I've told you a couple of times. Given all that, I would say that at the moment she threw the water on me, she wouldn't have broken out into sobs if I had dropped down dead on the spot."

His moustache ruffled a little at that. I watched it, fascinated. It was as if the thing had a life of its own. He flipped through a few more pages. "Miss Renauld made statements that could be interpreted as threatening to you at other times, did
she
not?"

"She was pretty much angry nonstop with me, so it's no surprise she said nasty things." I leaned forward. "Look, Inspector, I don't know what you're driving at with all these questions about Tanya threatening me.
She
was killed, not me. She held a grudge against me, not vice versa. I was more than happy to go my own way and not have anything to do with her, and I certainly didn't bear her any ill will other than disliking being used as a pawn by her and Dominic."

"A woman has been murdered, Miss Randall," Bartos said neutrally, reminding me of Christian at his peacemaking best. "It is my duty to uncover all the unpleasantness surrounding her death whether or not you believe it has a bearing on the situation."

My spirits dropped to hang around my knees with the wadded-up ball of my stomach.

"If you would go over the events of the evening one more time, beginning with your conference with Miss Arielle Renauld here in this bar…"

I slumped in my chair. The day stretched before me in a perpetual loop of retelling the same thing over and over and over again.

An hour later I stumbled out of the bar, the inspector's rebuffs echoing in my ears.

"You are under a misimpression, Miss Randall. My role in this investigation is to gather information, not give it," he said in response to my question of whether or not Raphael was a suspect. Our interview was at an end, but I had figured there was no better opportunity to try and worm a few facts out about Raphael.

"I'm not asking you to tell me what he said to you, just whether or not he's on your list of suspects. I can't help but be worried, what with his history with the police…" I purposely let my sentence trail off in hopes he'd take the bait, but evidently he'd been hooked before.

"Mr. St. John did not inform me that you were acquainted with his past history with the police," he said, faint disapproval tingeing his voice.

I tried not to squirm under his gimlet eyes. "Raphael and I are very close, as I have told you. And we have discussed the situation, and the issue of his past." Truth—it was all the truth. Misleading, yes, intended to give a false impression that I knew everything, true, but still a form of the truth. "I'm sure it just escaped his mind to tell you that."

"I see. And what do you expect me to tell you?"

"That you don't consider him a likely suspect for killing Tanya."

Inspector Bartos just looked at me out of half-closed eyes.

"Oh, come on," I said in response to his silence. "Just because Raphael has a history involving… well, involving the police doesn't mean that you can pin this on him. He's no more likely to have killed Tanya than I am! If I'm not a suspect, there's no way you can rationally include Raphael on your list of supposed perpetrators."

He gave me one of his martyred looks. "Ah, but Miss Randall, when have I given the impression that you are
not
on that list?"

I stared at him open-mouthed, stunned that he could consider me capable of murder. He took advantage of my speechless state to escort me to the door of the bar, wishing me a good day.

I headed straight for the bench out front where I could sit and
breath
fresh air and enjoy not being questioned. Roxy, who had been interviewed and released before me, was chatting with a group of people getting ready to go on a bike ride.

I plopped down beside her with a, "Well! How do you like that! The good inspector thinks I murdered Tanya!"

Roxy shrugged and called out a goodbye as the bike riders pedaled off.

"What do mean by that shrug?" I demanded. "Do you mean you're not surprised that your best friend in the whole wide world is a murder suspect, or do you mean that it's all too silly for words, and thus you won't even try to express your contempt for a man who could say such patently false things?"

"We need to get you some Valium or something. You're going postal."

"I am not going
postal,
I've just been third degreed. Bartos all but brought out the rubber hose. I'm surprised he didn't flick a few lit matches on me, just to see if I'd sing."

Roxy chuckled and got to her feet, pulling me up after her. "You've got your sense of humor back. I'm glad to see you're not depressed over Tattoo Boy any longer. Come on, we have investigating to do. While you were in there having bamboo shoved under your fingernails, I've been busy working."

"Working how?" I asked as we headed toward the meadow and the fair.

"Talking to everyone from the fair
who
came in to report to the police. Hurry up, we have an appointment with your favorite vampire, and we're already late."

"Christian?" I looked up. The sun, hazy behind high clouds, was midway through the sky. "Roxy, even if we knew where he was, you know he's not awake now."

"Not Christian. Dominic."

"Ugh. He's hardly my favorite vampire. He's not even real." A fact I suddenly appreciated, especially when the image of Tanya's torn throat came to mind. I wondered what Bartos made of that wound. I wondered if he believed in Dark Ones.

"Yes, well, he's about to become your favorite vampire. I told him you wanted a little information from him, and were willing to exchange your favors for it."

"ROXY!"
I stopped dead at the edge of the parking lot. "I will NOT sleep with fang face!"

"Did I say you had to? I did not! I said
favors
, such as reading rune stones."

"What?
Again?
I did it last night to help out in a pinch, but—"

"If you want the dirt on Raphael, you're going to have to pay with a little of your time. So make up your mind. Which do you want more—a couple of free hours during the evening, or the scoop on what Raphael's hiding?"

I kicked at a rock imbedded in the soft soil. To be honest, I was feeling a bit unhappy over the whole idea of sneaking behind Raphael's back to find out what he was hiding from me. The sane voice in my head pointed out that violating his trust was not the way to demonstrate my love for him.
If he wanted you to know
, the self-righteous voice intoned,
he'd tell you
.

I seldom listen to that voice. I much prefer the one that snorted indignantly at the idea of sitting around passively and waiting for Raphael to come to his senses.
Make him see how much he needs
you
, that
voice said.
Show him you are more than just a convenient casing to park his piston
.

"OK, I'll do another stint at the rune table, but just for tonight."

Roxy whapped me on the arm and started down the slope to the meadow floor. "Tonight's the big festival, remember? There is no
more fair
after tonight."

I followed her slowly. How could I forget? Tonight hundreds of fans would converge on the grounds of Christian's castle, drink, eat, dance, and listen to loud music all the while celebrating the cult of the vampire. Meanwhile, the head vampire, the real one, hadn't been seen or heard from and was up to who knew what. I hoped he was tucked away safely wherever it was he slept.

I finally turned my attention to the question I'd asked earlier. If Christian hadn't murdered Tanya, who did? Dominic?
Creepy Milos?
Arielle?
Raphael?
Roxy?
Me
?

I shook the phantoms from my head and picked up the pace, quickly overtaking Roxy. Today was shaping up to be a pretty hellish nightmare of a day. I might as well get as much of it over with as possible.

Chapter Sixteen

If I thought my day was a
nightmare, that
was because I hadn't seen the inside of Dominic's trailer.

"Good God, it's like a really bad parody of a
Dark Shadows
set," I murmured to Roxy as I stepped around a tall standing lamp with a shade made out of metal bats caught in the act of flight. Dominic had blocked up all the windows, so the only light came from the weird lamps he had scattered around the trailer.

"I think it's fascinating, in a gruesome mangled-car-accident sort of way," Roxy replied. I stared at a painting hanging on a divider wall. It looked like one of those sixties gothic covers with a woman in a transparent nightgown racing away from a gloomy old mansion, only in this picture the woman was naked and was being followed by a somewhat effeminate-looking vampire in full Bela Lugosi rig.

"I see you admire my painting." Dominic appeared at my side, taking the head-tipped-to-the-side-considering-artpose. "I painted it myself, naturally."

"Oh. Did you?" I reminded myself that I wanted something from him, and thus to inquire how many other paint-by-numbers paintings he had done was not a good idea. "It's very… unique."

"Yes," he said, baring his fangs at me.

"Um… you have a piece of something…" I tapped the front of my teeth.

Dominic looked all too human for a moment as embarrassment flickered over his face. He dashed into his bedroom area.

"Dark Ones do
not
eat broccoli," Roxy muttered before turning her attention to what looked like a little altar made up of cheap-looking black and red candles.

"Looks like he's been shopping at Vampyrs 'R'
Us
," I whispered.