How to Party with a Killer Vampire (30 page)

“Then you took his cell phone and threw it in the pond.”

“Yeah, you told the cops, didn’t you. How did you know about that?”

“Otto saw you.”

“I figured as much. I knew he must have seen something since he was around all the time. Crazy fool. I thought the police would nail him for the murders when they found the shovel. Instead, they let him go.” He shook his head, disgusted.

“And you killed Bodie too.”

“As I said, I had to protect Angelica. If it got out that she was married, and then I came along and was accused of being a home wrecker, it could ruin both our careers. I know this happens in Hollywood all the time, but I couldn’t afford that risk. I mean, look what happened to Jesse James with Sandra Bullock. He’ll never work in that town again. And Tiger Woods—”

“How did Bodie find out about you two?” I said, interrupting him.

Jonas sighed. “If I answer your questions, will you come out of there, or are you going to make me drag you out? You can’t stay in there forever.”

I nodded.

“Okay. Well, Bodie had been following Angelica—”

“Stalking her?” I interrupted.

“Not exactly. But he knew something was up between Angelica and me and wanted the dirt. When he confronted me, I told him I’d meet him after the party and tell him everything. . . .”

“Instead, you killed him too.”

He shrugged as if it were nothing. “Had to be done.”

Jeez, talk about a crazy person. Jonas was way more out on a mentally unbalanced limb than Otto. Meanwhile, I had to keep him talking and just hope the police eventually figured out one of their officers was down.

“Do you know who was stalking Angelica?”

“You said you’d come out.”

“I will. I have a leg cramp from being all bent up. I’m coming.”

“You’d better. Otherwise, I’ll just have to shoot you.” He said it almost pleasantly, which scared the crap out of me.

“Go ahead. Shoot me then.”

“I have a better idea,” he said, standing up from his squatting position. “I don’t really need to work out all the details. Let the cops put together their own story. It’ll be a real murder mystery.” I could see only his legs and feet from my vantage point under the table. I wondered what he was up to. It might have been a trick to get me to come out, but I took the chance and inched forward, just enough so I could see more of his body.

He pulled out something small from his pocket, about the size of a Pez dispenser. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see his thumb brush across the top of the object.

The tip caught on fire.

Oh God. A lighter.

I peered out farther, twisting my body, trying to see what he was going to do with the flame. I could only view him from the waist down. He reached over and held the lighter under the tattered window curtains.

They immediately caught fire.

“What are you doing?” I screamed.

He bent down and grinned at me. “What does it look like? I’m setting fire to the trailer. No worries. It’ll all be over quickly.”

Otto!
I thought. Why wasn’t he struggling or screaming? Was he already dead?

Rising up, Jonas took a step toward the door.

“Gotta run. But I’ll be sure to bolt the door from the outside. That ought to keep the cops guessing.”

It was now or never. I scooted out from under the table. “Wait! I have something for you!” I said, thinking of the trick I had used with Roman, Angelica’s nurse. He hesitated, hand on the trailer door.

The room was filling with smoke. The flames had spread to the cheap wood veneer, sending even more sickening black smoke billowing throughout the place. I coughed.

“Too late, Presley. Angelica is all I need. Once I plant evidence that he did all this, she’ll need me too.”

He turned back toward the door.

“Jonas!” I screamed. I pretended to struggle to my knees, trying to give him the idea I was too weak to do anything threatening. You don’t have to go to acting school to know how to pretend.

He hesitated, turned, and looked at me, no doubt planning to give me one last debilitating kick—or shoot me.

I leaped up, raised the clawed hand fork, and swiped it viciously across his face with all the strength I’d acquired carrying heavy boxes of party supplies.

He screamed in pain and dropped his gun. It went off as it hit the floor. I brought the claw down on his arm fiercely, ripping the fabric of the uniform and scraping his skin. Blood streamed down his arm as he fell to his knees in agony. I spotted the gun within his reach and kicked it under the table. Since I had no idea how to use it, I figured it would be better out of circulation.

Curled into a fetal position, Jonas began yelling obscenities at me, spittle spraying from his lips with each word. He held his bleeding arm, letting blood run down the gashes on his cheek.

“You’ve ruined my face, you . . . !”

I didn’t hear the names he called me. I had to see if Otto was still alive. He was slumped over the table, bound and gagged, a bloody gash on the side of his head.

I shook his shoulder. “Otto!”

He moaned.

I grabbed his overall straps and yanked, pulling him off the bench seat. He fell to the floor. The room filled with smoke and I couldn’t stop coughing. I had to get us both out before we asphyxiated—or were blown to smithereens.

I opened the door and tried to push him out through the narrow opening, but the hefty man was a deadweight and wouldn’t budge. I climbed over him and stepped down the stairs. Turning around to face him, I reached back, braced a foot on the step, took hold of his duct-taped legs, and, inch by inch, jerked him through the narrow doorway, down the steps, and onto the ground.

I glanced inside the trailer. Jonas lay on the ground, screaming, kicking, and batting at his pant leg, which had caught fire. I looked around for something to throw on the burning cloth—water, a blanket, anything. I finally spotted a cone-shaped flower holder stuck beside a dog’s grave, snatched it up, along with a bunch of dirt, and threw it on Jonas’s burning clothes, extinguishing the flames.

I was about to grab his feet when I heard the sirens.

Seconds later the area was swarming with police units. One of the cops jumped out of his squad car, ran into the trailer, and pulled a hysterical Jonas from the enveloping flames.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the madness I saw in Jonas’s eyes.

Detective Melvin didn’t look surprised when he saw Jonas’s bleeding face and arm. He shot me a glance, nodded, then ordered his officers to cuff Jonas. He also called an ambulance for Otto, who lay on the ground, covered in a blanket to protect him from the chilly night. The duct tape had been removed from his hands, feet, and mouth, and the wound at the back of his head had been bandaged.

All that remained of the smoking trailer was a blackened shell. Firefighters had quickly put out the blaze, but the flames had gutted the interior.

“Otto?” I said gently.

He began to rouse and tried to sit up.

“Take it easy, Gunther,” Detective Melvin said. “An ambulance is on its way.”

Otto lay back down, turning his grizzled head to the side to avoid the wound. “Wha’ happened?” he asked, slurring his words.

“You’re going to be okay,” I said. I briefly explained the ordeal we’d been through, and by the time I was done, the ambulance had arrived, lights flashing and siren screeching. The detective and I stepped out of the way of the EMTs and let them do their work. Once Otto was checked and tended to, he was carried to the ambulance and driven to the same hospital where Brad was still recovering.

Meanwhile, Jonas, his face, arm, and burned leg covered in bandages, made the trip to the hospital in another ambulance, accompanied by two police officers. He didn’t even wave good-bye to me.

While officers went over the trailer and grounds with their flashlights and evidence kits, I sat down on a nearby pet headstone to catch my breath. Detective Melvin walked over, hiked up the legs of his slacks, and sat down on a headstone that read PETEY-BOY.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“Yeah. Fine. Bumped my head. Probably have a couple of bruises, but I’m all right. How did you know to come?”

“The officer I assigned to keep an eye on you on Treasure Island said you never showed up.”

“You were worried?” I asked, a little flattered that the detective cared. Most of the time, he just found me irritating.

“Not really. You never do anything you’re supposed to do. I figured you were snooping around some more. But when I didn’t hear back from my officer assigned to watch Gunther’s place, I knew something was going on.”

I sat up, suddenly alarmed. “Did you find him—the officer?” My first thought was the Black Pond. I shuddered.

“One of my men did. Jones hit him over the head with another one of Gunther’s tools, stripped him of his uniform, took his gun, duct-taped him, rolled him down the hill, then covered him with leaves. He has a pretty bad head wound, but he’ll survive. Of course, he may not survive the ribbing he’s going to get from the other guys.”

I smiled weakly. Humiliation was certainly preferable to death. “Boy, Jonas sure was prepared.”

“Yeah. As for you,” Melvin said, “we found you through your cell phone.”

“Duncan!” I exclaimed. “He used the GPS app again.”

“He’s a pretty smart kid,” Melvin conceded. “Maybe he’d like to come work for the good guys someday.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing,” I said. “I’ll put in a good word. Although he’s not exactly the straight-andnarrow type. He kinda makes up his own rules.”

“Well, maybe as a consultant.”

Finally, I asked the question that had been burning in the back of my mind. “How’s Brad?”

“Doing great. Should be out of the hospital in a day or two.”

“Thank God. If you’re done with me here, I’ll head over there.”

Detective Melvin stood up, then lent me a hand and helped me up. “See ya, Parker.”

“See ya, Detective,” I said, smiling. “And thanks for . . .”

“What? Rescuing you? No biggie. I do it all the time.”

“You didn’t rescue me! I was doing fine. But thanks for . . . taking the murderer off my hands.”

“You’re welcome. By the way, we were able to retrieve Spidey’s messages. The second phone was Angelica’s. Jonas must have tossed it in the pond too to get rid of the evidence of the so-called stalker.”

I nodded, then beat him to the punch. “So you saw the text message from Angelica’s phone asking Spidey to meet her in the cemetery after the party setup. Only that message was sent by Jonas.”

“How did you know?”

Instead of answering him, I asked, “Did you find out who her stalker was?”

“Your friend Duncan figured out where the texts originated.”

“And?”

“They came from Jonas’s phone. Turns out Jonas Jones was her stalker.”

 

Brad appeared to be asleep when I entered his hospital room. I tiptoed in and sat down in the lone visitor chair next to his bed. He turned over, fluttered his eyes open, and gave me his signature half grin.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“Hey. Where you been?”

“Oh, here and there. You’ve been sleeping a lot. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Brad shot me a glance with his bloodshot eyes. “You’ve been chasing a killer, haven’t you, Presley Parker?”

I shrugged, thinking if I hung out with this man much longer, I wouldn’t have any secrets left.

“So, did you catch him?” He reached for my hand. His felt dry and cool.

I filled him in briefly, then said, “We’ll talk about it more later. Right now, we need to focus on getting you out of here.”

“Doc says I can go home tomorrow. But I may need a little private nursing care for a while. Maybe one of these peppy nurses can come home with me.”

I started to slap his hand, then gave it a good squeeze instead. “
Uh
, yeah, maybe not. But I’m glad to see your sense of humor is coming back.”

“Actually, I talked to Luke. He told me you saved Otto Gunther’s life.”

“Big mouth,” I said.

“Who you calling big mouth?” came a voice from the door.

I turned to see the detective standing in the doorway.

“My man!” Brad said, his voice hoarse.

“How’s it hanging?” Melvin responded.

I loved guy talk.

“Pretty good. Only hurts when I play golf.”

“Nurse! Keep those drugs coming,” Melvin pretended to shout out the door.