The Bloody Mary Diet: The Detective Adele Series Book 1 (10 page)

At least she forgot about Trevor. As Jan continues talking I plug in my cell phone and listen to my messages. One is from early today from my dad and one is from the professor that was such a jerk at the school. He says he got my name and number from the security guard at the university and he wants to talk to me as soon as possible. I grab the “D” note from my In-Box and write “ouche Bag” on it. I but it back in the box.
I don’t have an Out-Box because I rarely do any paperwork, I probably should but I don’t. Thank goodness that Jan knows this and just takes the few things she figure I am probably done with.

If
Demetri thinks he can scare me with tacky stationary he is dead wrong. I don’t even open it. The implied threat is met with an implied “Fuck Off”. I will deal with him later.

In the cab on the way over I call the professor from the number on my caller ID. It rings right through and he picks up on the first ring. He thanks me for getting back to him on a Saturday and I tell him it is my pleasure. Plus I forgot it was Saturday anyway.
He tells me he will meet me at the science building, that the left door is unlocked and the security gaurd is expecting me. He will be in his office. We say our goodbyes and hang up.  On Thursday he wouldn’t talk to me but today he comes in on a weekend and waits for me to call. Weird.

When I get to the Science Building I hurry in and rush up the stairs. I am feeling anxious about something and I can’t say what. There are no lights on and only one door is open. It is the professor that was so rude last time. He is waiting at his desk and he looks more anxious them me if that is even possible. He gestures to the chair and I sit.

He starts talking very rapidly and very nervously right away. Like he wants to get something off his chest but he is afraid to say it so he dives right in.

“I am sorry that I was rude to you last time you came. If I had known you wanted to talk about Christine Vail I would have asked you in and closed the door. I do have something or I may have something. I tried to tell the police at the time but
no one would listen. Professor McNeil was having a relationship with Ms. Vail.  He did it every semester. He would pick out a quiet shy student and start paying special attention to her. At the time the administration would turn their heads to things like this. McNeil was a good-looking man in a position of authority. He called them his “Projects” and would update the staff on his “Progress” throughout the semester. At the end of term the girl would go home and he would drop her. I am sure his wife knew but she spoke very little English and had no friends or family nearby. McNeil is a bastard.”

He stops to refill his coffee and offers me a cup too. I decline.

“The year Ms. Vail was in his class he did his usual due diligence and made sure her family lived far enough away that she would be gone for the Christmas break. It was his way of making an easy out. He didn’t find out that they were estranged until it was almost the end of semester. She came to his office and they argued. She was crying and almost hysterical. He practically threw her out of the building. All I heard him say was she is pregnant. His wife was pregnant at the time and so we all thought that’s what he meant. I thought that’s what he meant.”

The professor paused and looked at me like he wanted me to say something. “What did he mean?”

“I think he meant Christine was pregnant, too.”

“Why would you think that
?”

“At the end of term when I was working on grades I thought I was alone in the offices when I heard someone arguing. It was coming from the upper rooms but the insulation in here is crap and if something is loud on one
floor you can hear it on the other floors. I think it was Christine and McNeil. She was saying she would tell everyone, that he would be ruined and that he owed her.  She was going to have the baby. She said he had lied and she would tell his wife. He said if he ever saw her at his house he would kill her and then a door slammed. That was all I heard. The next semester Christine did not return and her apartment was eventually checked by the police but only because her rent wasn’t paid. No one ever reported her missing. By the time they discovered she was gone McNeil’s wife had died. I tried to say something but by then it was too late. No one wanted to hear it. McNeil was off the hook because no one had cared enough to notice she was gone but I know he did something. I just know.”

I asked him how he knew and he just shook his head. It had been fifteen years. I was lucky to have gotten what I did but it did show something. You don’t remember something that long unless you really believe it. Unless it really bothers you. I stand up to thank him and he offers to walk me out. He had only come in to talk to me anyway.

We are complaining about the wet weather as we leave the building and when we exit the door it hits us in the face. Drizzle mixed with smoke. The McNeil house is on fire. I can hear sirens in the distance and a car is pulling away from the curb. I hear a choking noise next to me and I turn just in time to see Prof. Roberts start to fall. I lower him to the pavement as best I can but I know he is gone. His eyes are blank.

I push the button on my radio,
identify myself and ask for back up. Address, civilian down, witnessed arrest, starting compressions. I drop my radio and begin CPR. I know it is too late. I know he is gone. It wasn’t his heart that killed him but it is no longer beating. So thirty compressions and two breaths for what seems like forever. I know who will come first. I can hear the Alfa Romeo over the sirens.

From the time I place the call to the time the medics are on scene is four minutes but only because they have to get by the fire equipment that is at the house.  My call came in second. It is a very long four minutes.

That bitch killed him. I felt her do it and if I wasn’t more powerful then she is she would have killed me too.  She reached in and crushed his heart and then she turned on me. I shoved her back hard just seconds before the car pulled away. She was in that car. Her anchor was in that car. I know it but you can’t charge a ghost with murder so I am going to have to find her before she kills and dumps this one. Trevor is here. I show him what I saw in my mind and we move together toward the burning house. 

The roof is engaged on one corner but the fire seems to be burning itself out. The smoke is almost gone. By the time we get to the drive Trevor has called Michael
s for back up and asked for forensics as well. I know better than to argue when he gets that look. In addition to being crazy violent Michaels is smart and fair. He won’t fuck you up unless you deserve it but if you deserve it you will be properly fucked. Count on it.  I have no idea how old he is or how he knows Trevor but every time I have ever had real trouble they both have showed up at about the same time in separate vehicles without any call from me. I don’t know what the link is, just that there is a link. He is also the hottest guy in the city next to my husband.

Michael is the fastest driver on earth anyway and we only have a minute to talk. Trevor points at the driveway. It is at the opposite end of the house from the fire and it leads to the backyard gate. A muddy shovel leans against the garage door and muddy foot prints go in and out and down the drive. It has been raining all day. These are new.  I take out my phone and start taking pictures. The drive, the shovel, the open gate.

Michael shows up with the bugs and worms guys and we all go into the backyard together. I am the only witch but you would have to be in a coma to not feel the evil coming from this place.  She was here and in some way still is.  There is a hole by the far fence. A hole about the size of a shallow grave. One of the forensics guys holds up a muddy women’s shoe. We tape off the backyard and declare it a crime scene.

We all head back to the station to wait for the forensic reports. I need to call around and find out what the official cause of death was for Gretchen McNeil. I am starting to feel like this might be
even worse than I had initially thought. If Christine Vail was the real vic 1 then Gretchen McNeil might have been the real vic 2. If I can tie Christine Vail to Gretchen McNeil then we have two fifteen year old cold case murders as opposed to one and Prof. McNeil knew about it this whole time. I wonder if Creepy Carl would have the records. I don’t know how long they keep these things on sight.

I need to make one call before I head to the evidence room.
Yesterday, I can’t believe it was just yesterday, Trevor had managed to get an old phone number from the roommate. It had belonged to her parents and it was 15 years old so it is a long shot but I decide to try. A woman picks up on the third ring. My number comes in on caller ID as San Fran PD and I always identify myself as a police officer. She responds in a much put out tone, “And how can I help you.”

“I have some questions about Christine Vail, I believe she was your daughter.”

“She is my daughter.”

“My apologies, she is your daughter. Some new information has come up regarding her case and I was wondering if you could provide me with any information regarding her whereabouts or her disap
pearance.”

“Christine disappeared to us when she left for San
Francisco.  I have no information or interest from that point.”

“Maybe I have not made myself clear. I am a member of the Greater San Francisco
Practitioners Council and I am investigating your daughter’s disappearance and possible murder and I would appreciate any assistance you can give me.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Detective Catherine Olivia Adele, my grandmother is a Sawyer witch and my great grandmother was as well.”

“Regardless of your pedigree I have no interest in the where
a bouts of my daughter. If you have any further questions regarding this you may contact my attorney.” She gives me her attorneys name and hangs up. What a bitch!!!

A quick online check of the family shows that they are very active and prominent in the Boston majiking community. Her pedigree doesn’t trump mine but it matches it. Up until Salem
witches traced their lineage though the maternal line. She is still a bitch. I find her e-mail address on the Boston Practitioners web site. I quickly go on-line and fill out every questionnaire and enter every contest I can find giving her name, address, email and home phone. Welcome to telemarketer, spam, and junk mail hell. Don’t fuck with me, later I will go online and order her a bunch of magazines, maybe even porn, and have it billed and delivered to her address. I wonder if that is legal? I will have to ask IT. They probably won’t know but they will think it is funny and I would be negligent if I didn’t at least check with someone.

No wonder Christine is such a head case.

If her mom doesn’t care enough to talk to me I will have to go to the Boring Brigade headquarters and look though the evidence room. I doubt I will find much but I am probably not going to get anything out of anyone else at this point. I make one last quick call using my blocked number to ask Mrs. Vail’s attorney if you can sue someone for giving you an STD. I leave the Vail home number as a call back. It is a legitimate question and I bet you don’t know the answer so don’t judge.

I am not going to tell Trevor where I am going. I am still a little pissed about the whole vampire servant married thing. And he can find me anyway so what’s the point.

I walk out of the station and hail a cab. The evidence room is at the regular station and no one will want to look for evidence from a fifteen year old cold case on a Saturday. I jump in the cab and call the city morgue. No one answers so I call Jan and tell her where I am going. I feel bad. I should have told Trevor. I leave a message for Jan and think about what I can hope to find in the evidence room. There was no body, so no DNA, it wasn’t reported until weeks after the potential abduction took place and until today there was no way to rule out the possibility that she just walked off.  We will have to wait for the forensics report just to get that.

We seem to have been driving too long and I stop thinking long enough to look around.
That’s when I notice that we are not heading to the new station. We are almost outside city limits. I ask the cabbie if he is lost he gives me a creepy smile and says, “No, but you might be.”

I look at the man in the mirror and he is spor
ting a serious pair of fangs. His face does not match the ID hanging on the dash below. This man is not a cabbie. Demetri has me. Fuck, I should have told Trevor.

We are driving on an open stretch of road and I can
’t possibly jump out at this speed. I am along for the ride. I scroll my phone to Trevor’s number, hold the phone in my lap and wait for him to pick up. When he does I start talking, loud. He has vampire hearing and I know I don’t have to but I can’t help it. I am nervous. I tell the driver that I know he is working for Demetri and that everyone else will as soon as they notice I am not at my meeting. He laughs and says they want Trevor to know. How will he know how to behave if he doesn’t know who will suffer the repercussions. Good point. I tell the guy driving the cab that Seams Street is a shitty area and he gives me a funny look. Big points for being too stupid to take my phone. The GPS is picking up every turn and I am sure Trevor is recording every word. I hear Trevor’s voice in my head, “Stay on as long as you can.”

“I love you, Trevor.” I feel him in my head. I hope it is not
just my imagination.

W
e pull up in front of a very posh two story house in the middle of nowhere. I managed to give the last street name I saw but I have no idea where we are. I am still on the phone and I have managed to say the cab number and the ID on the badge. The guy driving is as dumb as a box of rocks. He knows I have my phone, does he think I am not going to use it? I can only hope whoever is in the house is just as stupid. The last thing I do as the car comes to the stop is slip the phone under the car seat as far back as I can.