Rock 'n' Roll is Undead (Veronica Mason (3 page)

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, I can’t exactly think about that right now, can I? I’ll figure out something. Our bass player is dead for heaven’s sake, show some respect.”

He had a point, though. It seemed as if when I got one step forward something happened to shove me back two steps, but now was not the time to dwell on such bad luck. Or whatever it was. A witch wasn’t supposed to have such problems, isn’t that what everyone thought? Unfortunately, I didn’t have a magic wand to make all my problems disappear. If I did, I may have made Frank vanish a long time ago.

Johnny was dead and music was the least of my concerns at the moment. He had only been with the band for a short time. None of us knew him well or what he could have possibly been involved in, but no one deserved this. What kind of monster could be so evil?

Charlie moved toward the growing crowd at the edge of the parking lot and Frank stepped closer to me. “Wait. How do you know he was staked?” Frank stared at me.

“Excuse me, Count Dracula. Are you the dumbest vampire around? How else could a vampire be killed?” I glared at him, flashing my best ‘duh’ look. Not sure if he bought it.

“Smart ass. There are other ways. Where the hell is the stake then?” He scowled.

Who was he, Perry Mason? I looked around. “How should I know? Look, I don’t know how I know.” I studied my shoes, avoiding his glare.

Frank placed his fingers under my chin and lifted my face. His touch was ice cold. “I know when you’re lying, so spit it out.”

His gaze never left mine. I couldn’t look away. “Damn it, Frank. Don’t use that damn vampire glare crap on me.”

His glare intensified.

“Fine.” I lowered my voice. “I can’t really explain it, Frank. I had a flash of Johnny being staked the moment I saw his body. And now when I look at him, which I’m trying not to do, the area is washed in a red glow.”

He scowled. “What? Now you’re a psychic?” He let out a deep breath. “Look, don’t tell anyone what you just told me, okay?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“Just trust me. Don’t tell anyone. Promise?” He placed a hand on my shoulder.

I instinctively wanted to shrug it off. Reflex. This time he managed not to make an inappropriate comment. Maybe his black dead heart still had an ounce of compassion.

I nodded. “Okay, yeah, I promise.”

Whom did I have to tell anyway? Well, other than the police. Oh, and Kitty; I told my best friend everything. Other than that, my lips were sealed. Frank was just being paranoid—his typical weird self. I shouldn’t have shared any of this with him. Frank was always so smarmy, he didn’t care anyway. His vampire persuasion had little effect on me. If I hadn’t wanted to talk, his glare wouldn’t have worked.

But it did feel kind of good to tell someone about what had happened, even if it was Frank. I’d never experienced anything like this and definitely never been the intuitive type. Now all of a sudden I was freaking Sylvia Browne. Another thing to add to the list of things that didn’t make sense in my life.

My whole life, my magic had been limited to spells made up of herbs and oils. Yes, I’d tried a few love spells, and needless to say, they hadn’t worked. My brother liked to call it half-assed witchery. Sometimes he was a real jerk, but I missed that jerk.

Police sirens wailed, freeing me from the conversation with Frank. Within a half a minute, multiple cars pulled up. Uniformed men jumped out and trotted over. They roped off the area just as more audience members joined the increasing crowd. Great. Now I’d be known for a lot more than my singing ability.

Vampires had their own detectives within all branches of law enforcement to deal with these matters. They looked like regular detectives except with…well, you know, fangs. An unmarked car pulled up beside the police cruisers and a man climbed out. I watched as he flashed a badge and was allowed across the tape.

Frank grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the body. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

“Don’t we need to talk with the police?” I pointed in their direction.

“They’ll find us.” His voice was steady and calm as if he’d done this sort of thing a time or two. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Frank seemed like the type who’d seen a dead body…or ten. I didn’t like to think about the fact that maybe back in the day Frank had possibly killed someone while turning them into a vampire. He claimed he never had, but…I wasn’t sure I believed him. All vampires had done it at some point, right?

Police swarmed the scene like bees over honey. They moved back and forth from the van to the surrounding buildings. A few stood in groups, talking. The scene wasn’t as glamorous as they depicted on TV. Miraculously, I’d gone unnoticed by the police so far, as if hidden behind an invisible veil.

“They don’t need to see you like this.” Frank gestured his head toward the crowd, and eased the car keys from my hand.

I’d held them so tightly the entire time that I’d almost drawn blood. Not something I wanted to do with all the vampires meandering around. No need to dangle a bloody carrot in front of them. Frank whispered something in Charlie’s ear. I didn’t ask what. Asking would have required energy that I didn’t possess at the moment, so I moved toward the back door. Frank placed his hand on the small of my back as I stepped up the stairs. A little too touchy-feely for my liking.

After heading back into the dressing room, I plopped down on the old loveseat again. Frank draped his arm around my shoulders. He sat too close and I didn’t find comfort in his embrace, but my emotions were too distraught to tell him to back away. I leaned forward, propped my elbows on my legs and placed my head into my hands. My movement forced Frank to release his hold. We sat in silence. I needed time to wrap my thoughts around what I saw. Within a couple minutes, a knock rattled the door. The sound made me jump. Clutching my chest, I looked up.

Chapter 5

Frank hopped up and grabbed the knob, leaning in close. “Who is it?” he asked without opening the door.

“Detective Walker with the FBVI.” The man’s voice held as much patience as my dad’s when I wrecked his ’57 Cadillac at the age of sixteen. He’d spent years restoring that car.

Frank eased the door open and stepped to the side, allowing the man to squeeze into the small space. “Come in.”

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” The detective eyed Frank with a raised brow and pursed lips. “I just have a few questions for you folks.” He looked at me and motioned with his long index finger. “You found the body?”

His beige pants had a military precision crease down the front and his white shirt was starched to attention.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks and nodded. “Yes.” My hands still trembled.

“Detective Russell Walker.” He handed me his card, then passed one to Frank. Federal Bureau of Vampire Investigations was printed in gold letters across the middle with his name and other information below. “How do you know the deceased?” he asked in a clipped tone.

Deceased? Hadn’t he been considered dead ages ago? They needed a handbook on all things vampire. Are they dead or not, damn it? The detective held no compassion in his voice. I’d only discovered the body, yet with one sentence he made me feel as if I had a one way ticket to the nearest correctional facility. Not that I expected him to coddle me, but still….

“He’s the bass player in our band,” my voice faltered. After a night singing and now this stress, it was no surprise my voice sounded like a ninety-year old’s.

“How long was he a member of the band?” The detective’s dark brown crew cut didn’t budge as he looked down at his notepad.

“Not long.” I shifted on the loveseat.

“How long?” His gaze focused on me again. I watched as he took in the full length of my arms and legs, studying each tattoo, no doubt. I had multi-colored stars covering half of my right arm and a pin-up model on the left. My left leg was covered with a tattoo of roses.

“Four weeks? Less than five.” Okay, I’d never been on the receiving end of a stare that severe and Frank wasn’t helping matters. Any other time I couldn’t get him to shut up. Now it was as if someone had stuffed one of his white crew socks into his mouth.

“How’d you meet him?” He scribbled on the paper again.

“We had a kind of an audition.” I traced the little scratch on the tabletop, avoiding his glare.

“So you don’t know much about him, then? You didn’t know him before this audition?”

“I guess not, no.” I shrugged. At least he wasn’t still glaring at me.

I spoke too soon. He looked up, fixing his dark eyes on me. I bet he could stare a hole right through someone. “Know anyone who’d want him dead?”

“Heck, like I said, I didn’t know him well. The answer to your question is no.”

Stress broke me and I forgot my manners. I’d better watch my tongue, or he’d have me handcuffed and stuffed in the back of his car before I could say cuff ’em and stuff ’em. Plus, this big guy had fangs. Long, shiny ones; my neck tensed thinking about them.

“Yeah, I got that.” He focused his narrowed eyes on me, taking in the full length of my appearance yet again, making me shift in my seat. The room was definitely hotter than a few seconds ago.

“What can you tell me about him other than he played bass?”

“He was a quiet guy. Um, he was from Florida and came to Memphis to make a go of music. You know, like the rest of us. No family here, other than his wife.” As the words left my lips, I realized my voice was little more than a whisper.

He jotted down as I spoke.

Frank cut in. “So it wasn’t a random robbery or something? Is that what you’re saying? I mean, you’d have to know he was a vampire.”

He had a point. When did anyone try to rob a vampire? Never. Humans really did try to distance themselves from the paranormal world as much as possible. Sure, humans gave blood, but that’s just because they liked the payday, although, the fake stuff was the ‘in’ thing to do—very trendy.

“I’m not saying anything, just getting the facts. What’s your name?” He pointed with his pen toward Frank who’d gone virtually unnoticed until then.

“Frank Perry,” his voice wavered.

“Where you from Frank?”

“Memphis.” Frank studied his shiny black shoes.

“When were you turned?”

“1957. I was twenty-nine.” Frank finally met the detective’s gaze.

Detective Walker tilted his head. “And you’re Veronica Mason. I’ve heard about you.”

“You have?” My voice went up to a normal level.

“Yes, I’ve seen your name around town.”

Not sure I liked the idea of that. Under normal circumstances, it would have been great, but now…not so much.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” I blurted out.

Chapter 6

Having the police know your name couldn’t be a good thing. Paranormal or regular cops, it didn’t matter.

He raised an eyebrow. “Quite a voice from what I hear.”

My cheeks probably turned three shades darker than my red lips. “Oh. Well, thanks.”

Frank rolled his eyes.

“So you didn’t hear any noise?” Detective Walker asked. “There must have been some sound.”

Did the look on his face say suspicion? It seemed to be getting hotter in the room by the second.

“No, I had headphones on after the show,” I said. Plus there was the bar-room brawl, but I didn’t add that little tidbit.

He frowned and looked at Frank.

“I was in the front of the bar.” Frank gestured toward the front. “Music was playing, so I guess it blocked it out.” He shrugged. “Then I came to check on Veronica.”

The detective’s grimace deepened. “We’ll need you both to make a statement and sign it. Another officer will be in to see you in a minute.” He stuffed the notepad in his shirt pocket and turned on his heel.

Just dandy.

The detective left us alone—alone with a million thoughts racing through my head. I’d never seen a dead body, much less a dead vampire. Well, I’d seen dead bodies at funerals, but that didn’t count. They just looked as if they were sleeping. Johnny didn’t look as if he were sleeping; he looked like a barbeque pit.

“What do you think happened?” I whispered when Detective Walker had exited and the door clicked shut behind him. “Do you think someone robbed him? Was he into drugs?”

“You don’t have to whisper, Veronica, he’s gone.”

I shrugged. “Maybe he’s listening at the door.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re being paranoid.”

“Aren’t you a little concerned with what happened here tonight? Johnny was murdered. It takes a lot of nerve to kill someone. Big you know whats,” I whispered, “to stake a vampire. At a freakin’ vampire bar.”

Frank laughed. “Veronica, I can’t believe you. You sing in a band at some of the shadiest dives around. You’re surrounded by vampires and werewolves and probably some creatures you don’t even know exist. You’re a witch, although I use that term loosely, and your best friend is a werewolf, yet you can’t say ‘balls’ out loud.”

“I can say it. I’m just being polite, that’s all.”

“No need to be polite around me, you know that.”

“Yes, I’m fully aware. I’m hoping a little of my politeness will rub off on you. Anyway, I can say it out loud.”

“Okay, say it.” He folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Fine. Balls. I’ll go one further and say nuts. How about cojones? Nads? You happy? If you don’t stop messing with me, I’ll put yours in a vice.”

“Really, Veronica, I had no idea you were so vulgar.”

I glared at him. “Quit jerking around. I’m serious. Aren’t you afraid for your safety? You heard what Charlie said about another vampire being staked last month.”

“I’m aware and I’m not afraid.”

“It’s your life.” I shrugged.

After an hour of retelling the story to the police officer taking our statements, he finally allowed us to leave. Although, at one point, I thought Frank may be arrested for making too many doughnut references.

“You want me to drive you home?” Frank stood in front of me. “At least let me move your car around front, so you don’t have to, you know, go through the crime scene again.”

Before I answered, the door burst open. “Oh, my sweet cartwheelin’ Jesus, I came as soon as I heard.”