Sips of Blood (17 page)

"Has my uncle given you a retainer as
yet?"

"A small one."

"Don't settle for small, David. Ask for more.
There's peril to your assignment."

"Is he in trouble with the IRS?"

"My uncle will pick up the dinner bill."

"No. I mean, I couldn't allow that. I would
really like to take you out to dinner, but perhaps you'll allow me
to select a restaurant." He gave a crooked smile. "One that I can
afford."

Liliana's cold body tickled with the hint of
warmth that sounded in his voice. She nodded agreement.

The front door slammed shut, and a loud voice
was singing a joyful aria from
La Belle Hélène.

"Evohè, que ces Déesses..."

Sade's white complexion glowed. His long
white hair flowed freely over his shoulders. The open poet's shirt
revealed enough of his chest hair to emphasize his virility.

"Monsieur
Petry, I forgot you would be
ici."

"I'm certainly glad you are here. Your
daugh--"

"Niece," Liliana corrected.

"Sorry. Your niece said that you had
forgotten to give her the papers we had discussed over the
telephone."

"Un désastre, monsieur."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"A disaster."

"What happened?"

"Way too complex to explain right now, but
maybe later. If you promise to stay for dinner."

"I can't this evening, sir.

"Is there a good time I can call you? I'm
probably going to be out of the house most of the evening, but I
can put aside some time to call you."

"What will you be doing,
monsieur?"

"Uncle! It's none of our business."

"Your niece is right, sir. I've made several
special trips out here at your convenience; however, this can't
continue. Perhaps you could fax the papers to me or--"

"Monsieur,
I have given you cash as a
retainer."

"Not enough cash, I would guess, Uncle. At
least not for what you expect him to do."

Sade glanced at his niece; his blue eyes had
darkened into a storm-like gray.

"Did you want more money,
monsieur?"

"How could I? I haven't done anything for you
as yet."

"Except to travel around at my uncle's
whim."

Sade brightened.

"Certainly,
monsieur,
you must charge
me for the time it took getting here and leaving."

"I had planned on it."

Liliana couldn't decide whether her uncle had
given a smile or a sneer as he turned away to walk over to the
bar.

"You seemed to have enjoyed my cognac the
last time you were here,
monsieur.
Would you like one
now?"

"No, I have to be driving back to the city.
If you find the papers, sir, give me a call and we'll figure out
some way to get together.

"I look forward to this Friday evening,
Liliana, and would certainly be glad to pick you up somewhere,
unless you're driving in."

"Don't like to drive. The glare of the
headlights bothers me."

"Then why don't you call me with the location
of your employer, and I'll pick you up and take you home."

"Thank you, David. I'll speak to you later in
the week. I'll get your number from my uncle."

She walked him to the door and waved goodbye
while he drove his car back onto the road.

"Ma petite chérie,
why make it so
complicated?"

"What?"

"Waiting until Friday. I'm sure with your
help we could have gotten him to stay for dinner. Ah!
Je suis
très heureux pour toi."

"Happy for me, Uncle?"

"Yes, that you are returning to the
fold."

"I'm merely meeting him for dinner."

"Oui,
but he will bring you back
here."

"And you will mind your own business."

"I will help with the cleanup."

"It won't be necessary, Uncle. I have far
better self-control than you."

With his right index finger he rubbed her
left cheek and crossed downward to run the same finger across her
lips.

"When I made you immortal I gave you my
blood. The hunger is always there, Liliana.
Toujours."

Chapter 31

Tap, tap, tap.

The chauffeur didn't budge.

Marie rapped harder on the window of the
car.

The chauffeur moved a bit but did not
waken.

Marie banged on the window.

Suddenly wide awake, the chauffeur seemed
embarrassed. He pushed the button to make the window on his side
open.

"Normally I don't sleep so soundly. I doze a
little. What time is it?" He checked his watch and shook his head.
"Is Mr. Winter angry?"

"He's beyond caring, I'm afraid."

"Did he call a taxi?"

"No, he doesn't need a taxi. It's so awful."
Marie tried to cry, but it seemed impossible now after all she had
been through. She, too, was beyond caring. "Mr. Winter is... dead.
Come in and see for yourself."

The chauffeur lifted the cellular telephone
and was about to close the window when Marie stuck her head inside
the car.

"Whom are you calling?"

"Mrs. Winter."

"Do you think his wife really wants to hear
this over the telephone? Especially since he... I'm sure you
know."

"And I bet she does too," he answered.

"Still, it's a very delicate situation. I
wish you would come in and take a look for yourself."

"I believe you."

"Then come in." She reached for the door
handle.

"Please, I believe you, and I definitely
don't want to see anything." He brushed her hand out of the
way.

Marie admitted to herself she had not thought
this situation out completely. The chauffeur should have been
willing to dash into her house to at least check whether his boss
was dead or simply in need of medical assistance.
So much for
loyalty.

Using violence on this man seemed so dirty,
so
Sadistic.
Violence should be consensual, and she had
always managed to keep it that way in the past, but if she had to
strong-arm this chauffeur, well...

"I assure you, madam, this is not completely
unexpected."

"What do you mean?"

"His wife warned me that he had a congenital
heart problem and told me to call her if something should ever
happen. Her or Dr. Lowrey."

"Garrett's doctor?"

"No. I believe he's related to Mrs. Winter in
some way. She especially did not want the police to be called if he
should... experience a problem while visiting
you."

"She knew about me?"

"Indirectly. You see, I think Mrs. Winter had
hired people to report on her husband's activities."

"How do you know that?"

"She hired me. Mr. Winter always seemed too
busy to worry about details. Therefore, all staff was hired by Mrs.
Winter."

"I guess it wouldn't look good for Garrett to
be found enjoying certain pleasures."

"No, ma'am." The chauffeur started to punch
out the number and Marie allowed him.

She pulled her head back out of the car and
patted her cheeks. Garrett's blood had proven to be the perfect
medicine. The fact that she had been using his blood for some time
probably helped in the healing process. This was not completely
foreign blood that she had used. Her body had already adjusted to
the chemical differences of Garrett's body.

Garrett waited, washed, dressed, and propped
up in the salon.

She returned to the house after the chauffeur
told her that Dr. Lowrey would be coming out, but no police.

Garrett looked so pasty white that Marie
tried applying some makeup to his face and neck. He had closed his
own eyes toward the end, enabling her to escape an accusatory
stare.

"I'm sorry, Garrett. You know I tried to
avoid this. Part of it is your fault for coming back before I asked
you to. The majority of the blame, however, falls on my son-in-law,
the ignoble Marquis de Sade. I promise I'll find some way to
destroy him."

The wounds on Garrett's buttocks hadn't
looked so bad after they were washed and dressed. At least they
didn't look as if they would have caused his death. On the other
hand, if the medical examiner found no blood, then there would be a
problem.

A knock interrupted her thinking. Walking to
the door, she stopped briefly to look at herself in the mirror. She
actually looked refreshed, but she didn't want to look too good.
She grabbed at a couple of strands of hair to give herself the halo
of disarray. She sighed deeply, turned down her mouth, and opened
the door.

"I'm Dr. Lowrey," the tall gentleman
immediately said. "I believe Mr. Winter is in some distress."

"Not anymore. Come in."

She led him to the corpse. The doctor made
some fluttering movements around the body, but was really only
interested in Garrett's pulse.

"He is dead," he pronounced wisely.

"I thought so."

The doctor's handsome face hid behind a
façade of solemnity. His hands were large and quit hairy, with
tufts covering each of his knuckles. He reached into an inside
pocket and pulled out a pair of rimless glasses and put them on at
the bridge of his nose. Presbyopia, she thought. Poor dear is
getting on in years, although she judged that he couldn't be more
than forty-five.

"Mr. Winter has many business connections and
social obligations, madam. You realize also that it would be best
for his family if he was discovered dead in bed. At home, that
is."

The doctor's hands were sweating.

"Indeed I do, Dr. Lowrey. What do you
suggest?"

The doctor cleared his throat.

"I'm sure we can trust the chauffeur, if we
could get you to agree to our transporting his body elsewhere."

"Dare we do that?"

"Only three of us, four if you include Mrs.
Winter, know about this."

"And I doubt Mrs. Winter wants to be
included."

"This is a terrible shock for her."

"I would have thought she might have expected
it, given the condition of his heart."

"His heart?"

"The chauffeur told me that Garrett had a
congenital heart defect."

A light suddenly dawned on the doctor's
face.

"Yes, that's right."

"One would think immediate cremation might be
best in this situation. Then Mrs. Winter wouldn't have to go
through all the distress of planning a long wake."

"I agree, madam. If you allow me to call the
chauffeur, we'll remove his body right now."

Marie nodded. Her curiosity got the best of
her.

"Dr. Lowrey, you're not related to Mrs.
Winter, are you?"

"No. We've been friends for several
years."

And lovers, Marie silently added, watching
the doctor cross the threshold of the front door.

Several minutes later the awkward,
uncomfortable chauffeur entered the house behind the doctor. The
chauffeur looked around the place, no doubt stunned that naked
people weren't hanging from chandeliers. He must have expected to
see at least one naked body tied to a rack. But then, that's
probably how he expected to find Garrett.

Marie looked at the corpse.
It's never
really a secret, Garrett.

"If there's any financial recompense that's
due, I'm willing to settle it now." Dr. Lowrey reached into a
jacket pocket and pulled out a thick roll of bills. None of them
were in small denominations.

"No, Doctor." Besides, she expected someone
else to pay.

Chapter 32

Sade wistfully watched Cecelia collect a
bouquet of flowers.

"You would make a wonderful Justine," he
muttered, not expecting to be heard.

But the girl had sharp ears, like most
servants.

"Shakespeare's Romeo and Justine," she
excitedly said.

"Romeo and Juliette,
ma chère."

Her cheeks flushed, and she almost dropped
the bouquet.

"How embarrassing! I read Romeo and Juliette
in school; I'm really familiar with that. I don't know why I made
such a mistake." She thought for a moment. "Maybe it's because I've
never heard of Justine."

"Ma chère,
I believe that I, too
misspoke. I know of no Justine either. I must have been thinking of
one of Bronte's characters."

"Jane Eyre?"

"That is it,
ma chère."

"I'd rather be Juliette. Willing to die for
the one she loves. Willing to give completely of herself." Coyly
she looked over her shoulder at Sade.

Sade envisioned her soft high rump over the
Eton bench.

"We should read some of the French classics
together,
ma petite enfant."

"I would love to," said Cecelia, turning to
face Sade. "Only Mother would be angry if she found us reading
instead of my doing the chores. Unless..."

"Oui?"

"I have dance class three nights a week.
Usually my girlfriend drives us there and back. If you would happen
to show up at school before class began, perhaps I could skip at
least one class."

"And what would you tell your friend?"

"Make something up. You're an uncle. Hell, I
wouldn't have to make up a story. My friend would never rat on
me."

"What does your friend know of me?"

"Nothing right now."

"Good." Sade stood and stretched. He had
built up quite a muscle in his left arm after favoring Garrett with
his attention. "This day is
magnifique
and you are
une
belle femme."
Sade had an itch but didn't know how to scratch
it. Young girls had always been trouble. Such sweet, tender
trouble, he thought looking at Cecelia. The poor child looked
disappointed.
You couldn't be any more disappointed than I.
Sade never could resist temptation. "Your mother has a very busy
schedule during the day. I mean between her work
ici
and
taking care of her family."