Spirit Sanguine (17 page)

“Do they know you’re here?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I’ll drive you,” Harvey said, getting off the sofa.

“You don’t have to.”

“I need to talk to them anyway, give them a chance to chew my head off.”

“I got you into trouble, didn’t I?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Give me a second.” Harvey walked off in the direction of the bedroom.

Dill washed his face at the kitchen sink and patted it dry with paper towels. He walked behind Gabe and looked over Gabe’s shoulders.

“Wow, Jade looks totally different out of a dress,” he said.

Gabe jumped. “What? Where?”

“There.” Dill pointed at the original snapshot of Paul Mayer and his friend.

Gabe looked at it and saw—the guy next to Paul was none other than Jade, sans makeup and wig. It was as strange and alien as RuPaul in a suit. “Son of a gun!”

Harvey came back. “You got the car keys?”

“Never mind the keys. I’m driving.”

“Dammit.”

“You should really get your own car,” Harvey muttered, getting into the backseat with Dill.

“Nonsense. I’m doing the public a favor by keeping you off the roads. By the way, speaking of favors, call Ellie and ask if she has a real name and address for Jade.”

“Yes, boss,” Harvey grumbled.

While he was on the phone, Dill leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially into Gabe’s ear. “He acts like he’s pissed, but he really loves when you take charge—like the other night. Best phone sex I ever had.”

Tires screeched as Gabe nearly rammed into the car in front of them.

Harvey flew forward and smashed into the front seat. “Hey! And you complain about my driving?”

“Put your seat belts on. Both of you.”

After dropping Harvey and Dill off, Gabe drove straight to the address Ellie had given for Jade. The man opening the door was fine-featured, slender and happy to see him. He wore tight jeans and a dark T-shirt that fit him like a second skin. His real hair was short and black.

“Mmm… What a fine surprise,” he said with a flirty smile. The voice was still perfectly feminine.

“Hello,
Jason
. May I come in?”

Jason Jones, aka Jade, wasn’t the least bit ruffled. “I prefer Jade, darling. Of course you can come in. You can come anywhere you like.”

She led Gabe into the living room, hips swishing as she walked. Out of drag, it didn’t produce the full effect—without heels, she was not much taller than Gabe. She almost looked fragile, but Gabe knew how deceptive appearances were. Still, Gabe kept thinking of Jason/Jade as a “she”. He couldn’t help it.

“Can I get you something?” she warbled.

“No. I have a few questions.”

“So butch. Well then, sit down.”

She planted herself next to Gabe on the sofa, close enough that their knees rubbed together.

“You lied about not knowing Paul Mayer.”

“So I did,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“You know the usual reason, not wanting to look suspicious.”

“It only makes you look worse now.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. The way you two went on, you probably would’ve hauled me off to Victor Augustine if I confessed knowing not one but two murder victims. Vamps who’ve upset Augustine have been known to get a bad sunburn.” She batted her eyelashes. “Maybe if you were alone I would’ve let you interrogate me more, but it’s never too late.” She dropped a hand on Gabe’s knee.

Gabe removed her hand and took out his notepad. “So how did you know Paul?”

She pursed her lips in an amused sort of way. “We met at a private party and had a fling, but we were never very close.”

“You were close enough for him to have a photo of you together.”

“We saw a lot of each other for a few months. Paul had just come out and was experimenting, trying every flavor of the rainbow. We weren’t really compatible.”

“How so?”

“Paul was sweet, too sweet, if you know what I mean. I like my men more complex.”

She didn’t move to touch Gabe this time, but the sultry caress of her gaze was nearly tangible. It wasn’t simply for show either; Gabe sensed the vampire’s craving like a warm flush spreading through him. A disconcerting recognition rocked Gabe—he’d felt this before, although in brief flashes, from Harvey.
Food for thought.

Gabe cleared his throat and looked down at his notepad. “Where were you last Friday night?

She let out a frustrated huff. “For someone so appetizing, you’re no fun at all. That scrawny boyfriend of yours must be keeping you on a tight leash.”

Gabe, his composure back in place, gave her a stern look.

She gave in. “Last Friday. That’s easy. I was in New York for the weekend with a friend. So you see I couldn’t have been in Chicago murdering poor Paul. Despite what television would have you believe, we can’t fly or turn into bats.”

“And this friend of yours can corroborate your alibi?”

“You sound more and more like a real cop. You better stop, because it’s making me hot and bothered.”

“Are you always this…on?” Gabe asked incredulously.

She laughed. “Honey, I was on before I got my fangs, and ever since then, I’ve been on even more.”

She gave Gabe the name and particulars of her traveling companion and the hotel where they’d stayed, then stood. “You need to scoot now, honey, if you won’t even let me have a nibble. I’m getting peckish.”

Gabe drove back to pick up Harvey next.

“How did it go?” Gabe asked, as soon as Harvey got into the car.

“Better than expected. There was shouting and crying—the first by Ray, the latter by Dill—and a group hug. There will be peace and quiet in the manor for a while.”

“Till Dill drives himself into a snit again?”

“He’s been getting better. Slowly.”

“Stan and Ray must have infinite patience.”

“Honestly, when they first brought Dill on board I couldn’t fathom what had possessed them. But then I realized they truly love the little idiot, more than he knows. It’s not Dill’s fault he’s so fucked up—his family did a number on him. He’s insecure and has major abandonment issues.”

“He’ll have to grow up eventually.”

“He’s working through it. And he’s a sweet kid underneath. How was your
date
? You smell like lavender.”

“Jade is a colorful character.”

“She put the moves on you, didn’t she? I’ll rip her throat out.” Harvey’s tone was jokey, but something flared through Gabe for a split second, and the sensation was only part physical. It moved Gabe to realize Harvey’s feelings for him were deep enough to manifest in such a manner.

“It’s getting more complex,” he said.

“What is?”

“The way I feel you. All of you. At least at close proximity. Like, you’re really jealous of her, aren’t you?”

“You’re imagining things.”

“And I could feel her hunger.”

There it was again but stronger, almost pain.

“Ah, there it is, I felt that. You have a temper, you know.”

Harvey stared at him, intrigued. “I have my own issues to work through.”

Gabe reached out and squeezed Harvey’s knee. “You’re much hotter.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Sure. You’d look better in a dress too.”

“You kinky bastard!” Harvey did his best to sound scandalized, but his eyes sparkled with glee.

Chapter Seven

When he’d been a teenager, Gabe had devoured all the Sherlock Holmes mysteries. However, as he’d gotten older, the idea of the sole genius detective who can deduct a case from a speck of mud or fallen cigarette ash started to sound ridiculous, and his reading preferences shifted to police procedurals. Neither was of any help to him now. He was stuck—he had a pile of suspects but no clear motive. Gabe went through the list in his head several times.

Jade, who knew both of the victims, took the top spot. It was too much of a coincidence. Her alibi had checked out, but it wasn’t exactly airtight. Her friend—a respectable businessman by day—could’ve easily lied. Gabe didn’t discount Harvey’s ex, Frank, either. Harvey ridiculed him for it, saying he was jealous, and Harvey might even have been right about it. Didn’t matter—Frank was the last vamp known to have snacked on Paul. Rico remained on the list too, for similar reasons. There was something slippery about him, and Gabe didn’t trust him for a second.

Of course, the killer could also have been a random stranger, vampire or not. The only connection between the two victims—aside from Jade—was that they had both liked to party and been regular vampire snacks. The latter part could even have been a coincidence, although Gabe’s instincts told him otherwise. Poring over the police records and his own notes for the umpteenth time got him nowhere.

He had to drop the whole thing when Augustine requested his services again. It was nothing exciting, Gabe was sent all over town with messages to associates of Augustine. It was like being a messenger boy, but Gabe couldn’t even complain—he was too well paid. So he put on his suit and drove around town delivering black envelopes. Some of the vampires he encountered this way were quite old. He didn’t know how he could tell, but he did. Now that he’d been exposed to many different vamps, his senses were fine-tuning themselves. It was a territory his training with Uncle Miklos hadn’t prepared him for, so he went with instinct.

He felt utterly stuck in the investigation, but evidently, his little gray cells kept working in the background. The answer jumped out at him on Wednesday, straight out of his dreams. His eyes flew open, and he was wide awake and charged with absolute certainty.

He tramped out into the living room. Swallowing his irritation over finding Harvey on the sofa again, he shook Harvey awake.

Harvey blinked at him. “What time is it?”

“I dunno, around noon. I know who the killer is.”

He explained his theory point by point.

Harvey had doubts. “That’s rather circumstantial.”

Gabe agreed, but his gut told him he was right. He had an idea. “We set up a trap.”

“How? When? Where?”

“This Friday at Nightcrawler.”

“How do you know your killer will be there? Assuming you’re right?”

“Everyone will be there. We’ll make sure of it. We make it into a celebration.”

“What’s the occasion?”

Good question. “Hmm… Ah, I got it! You organize a welcome home party for me.”

“You’ve been back in Chicago for months,” Harvey pointed out.

“Yeah, and it’s about time someone threw me a party.”

Harvey gave in. “Right. Fine, we’ll have a party. Now what?”

“Well, first of all I need you to stop at the bar, talk to Gustav, make sure he spreads the news. Then you go around, invite people.”

“Vampire people?”

“Yes.”

“Then what?”

Gabe explained his plan. Harvey argued it wasn’t much of a plan but agreed to go along with it anyway.

“We can start preparing at dusk,” Harvey mumbled and went back to sleep.

Harvey and Gabe got to the Nightcrawler early on Friday. It was only them and Gustav there. A bargain bin
Welcome Home
banner dangled on one wall, along with a few limp balloons. In hindsight, leaving the decorating up to Gustav hadn’t been a good choice. The burly vamp in question motioned them to the far end of the bar and started mixing drinks.

A minute later, he placed in front of them two glasses filled with red liquid over ice.

“Try it,” he said, practically glowing.

Gabe didn’t care for fancy cocktails, brightly colored concoctions with crap floating in them or umbrellas sticking out. Beer or gin and tonic were more to his liking. He took a cautious sip anyway. Alcohol mingled with fruity sweetness, hiding the tartness of Harvey’s tonic. It still lingered as an aftertaste, but the cranberry juice generously took the blame.

Gustav loomed over them like an eager and impatient mountain.

“Ehm…good.” Gabe’s tactful lie didn’t please the burly vamp.

Harvey made a high-pitched sound that came dangerously close to being a squeak. “It tingles!”

The dark clouds lifted off Gustav’s broad face, and he grinned like a child on Christmas morning. The look clashed terribly with the rest of him.

“I had the idea to disguise that ridiculous tonic of yours as something like grenadine. I cooked it down to simple syrup with sugar and added red food coloring. Easy, right? But when I mixed it with vodka, things got interesting. It still won’t get you drunk, but it makes you feel the flavors,” Gustav explained.

Harvey gaped at him. “That’s brilliant! You’re a genius.”

He pulled Gustav’s face down and gave the guy a kiss right on the lips. It lasted a second, without tongue, but there was too much skin contact for it to be called a peck. Gabe gave them a dirty look, but nobody paid attention to him. Gabe had never liked Gustav, but now his fingers itched for the stake that wasn’t under his jacket.

“It’s a mucked-up version of Bay Breeze, and it needs a name—I reckoned you’d want to do the honors,” Gustav said, practically blushing.

Harvey lifted up the glass, tilting it this way and that. Ice cubes clinked merrily against the glass, and the deep red liquid sloshed around.

Harvey’s face lit up. “I got it! Sanguine!”

Gustav nodded and that was that. He and Harvey began to hatch plans for hyping Sanguine. While they were busy conspiring, Gabe carefully checked over the place, knowing trouble could hide in every nook or cranny.

As patrons filtered in and the bar filled up, the atmosphere gradually became heavy with tension. The regulars showed up first, claiming their usual stools. Then the new people started arriving and disturbing the established ecology of the watering hole. Nightcrawler usually had two or three vamps to a full bar of regular people on a busy night.
Perfect hunter-to-prey ratio,
Gabe had clinically assessed when he’d first noticed it. However, on this night the number of vampires rose, and they eyed each other testily.

Gabe began having second thoughts about his own plan but didn’t share them with Harvey, who’d been dubious from the start. He saw many familiar faces, bar regulars, the vampire couple Gabe ran into at his first visit to Nightcrawler, even Joe the boozy Russian.