The Love-Haight Case Files (28 page)

Pete watched the elderly woman. He’d never seen Gretchen with such a sour look.

“But you be extra careful. Sure, they don’t sparkle like in the teenybopper-angst series, but some of the movies portray ’em right. Ever see them
Underworld
pictures?”

“The turf wars with vampires and werewolves?” Evelyn laughed as she clicked on another link. “I saw one of them. Too gooey for my taste.”

Gretchen tapped her cane on the floor. “There’s turf wars in San Francisco, too, sweetie. Just like in
Underworld.
Don’t you get caught up in one, hear me? If you go getting yourself killed, this practice’ll be closing its doors. And who else is gonna hire me at my age? You think about that.”

Evelyn smiled. “Gretch, it’s a grand theft case. And our client is innocent.”

“They’re not all innocent, Evey. Some of the OTs in this city are just as foul as bad-minded humans.” Gretchen toddled back to her desk. “I’m heading out. You lock up when you’re done, all right?”

Evelyn nodded. “Pete, here’s a report from a villager who lives near that collapsed mill on the river. He says he heard strange sounds coming from the forest, but he does not fear the vampire-ghost because he respects Sava and does not make fun. He says the people of Zarozje should ‘embrace the Other.’ Now that’s a term we hear around here once in a while. He says ‘embrace the Other’ and call in the tourists, that if the Romanians can profit from the Dracula legend with the big castle in Transylvania, they should do the same with Sava.”

Pete walked around to the front of her desk. “So … how does all of this history stuff help your case with Dimitar?”

“It doesn’t really help the case, it just helps me. I wanted to get a better look at where my client came from. Besides, I couldn’t find anything useful on Fahim Yar’Adua, the witness against our client. I guess I’ll have to go talk to him face-to-face tomorrow.” She stifled a yawn. “And now I have to head out. My stomach demands dinner, and I want to go to the revival at St. Agnes’s later tonight. There’s a box of crackers next to the fridge, and a couple of six-packs. Don’t drink it all, though, please. I’m not going back to the store for a few days.” She reached to turn off the computer.

“Hold up there. If you don’t mind, I’m going to do a little more of this Internet research, all right?” He eased himself onto Evelyn’s chair as she headed toward the front door, and he adjusted the controls to lower the seat, careful to keep one foot on the floor. The furniture probably counted as part of the building, but he didn’t want to chance his connection to it. “I’ll shut it down when I’m done and turn off all the lights this time before I head back to the roof. Promise.”

She said something to him before she left, but he didn’t pay attention. Another link caught his eye and he clicked on it. Pete was thankful Thomas had invited him down into the law office. This was much more interesting than watching birds and passersby all day. And when he was done with this bit of research, he’d get a beer out of the fridge and try his hand at that computer solitaire game or download a free trial of
World of Warcraft.
Evey didn’t have anything but solitaire on this computer. Maybe she’d object to
Warcraft
clogging up some of the memory, but Pete knew it was better to apologize after the fact than ask permission and risk a “no.”

Yeah, this was much more interesting than watching Clapper Rails and squishing pigeons.

“Hmm … what’s this?” Pete moused over another link. He was careful with the equipment, as he knew his stone hands were heavy and that the law firm didn’t have a lot of money to work with. Evey couldn’t afford to be buying new computer equipment. She needed to spend the money on rent so the landlord could pay all the fees and for building renovations. Keeping the building safe kept Pete alive. “Now this is really interesting. Too bad Evey’s gone for the day.”

He drew his face in close to the screen and read until his vision blurred. He looked out the window. The street was murky, definitely after sunset. Pete didn’t bother looking at clocks, as time really had little significance. He could call her. Thomas had taught him how to use the phone. But he worried he might interrupt her during the revival. That wouldn’t be polite, a cell phone going off during the service. He couldn’t call Thomas. The ghost didn’t have—nor could he use—a cell phone.

But Dagger McKenzie?

Dagger was on speed dial on Evey’s phone. Button #3. Pete swiveled in the chair, again careful because of his weight, stretched to the phone and touched the control for speaker so he didn’t have to worry about the handset.

Dagger picked it up on the fifth ring. “Evey?”

Pete cleared his throat. “No. Uh, it’s me, Permythius.”

“Pete?” The surprise was evident in Dagger’s voice. “You calling me for Tom?”

“Uh, no. Listen, Dagger, they’re working on a case, Evey and Tom.”

“And you’re being Tom’s fingers again, right?”

Pete pulled a face. “No.”

There was a tapping sound, probably Dagger drumming his fingers against something. “I’m eating dinner Pete, and it’s getting cold.”

“This case Evey took … you know, she got shot when she was poking into a case in December. Shot and in the hospital.”

Pete heard a sharp intake of breath. He knew Dagger had a soft spot for Evelyn, and so he was playing the “Evey card” to his advantage.

“She’s picked up a new case, with a vampire and—”

“Damn, Evey. Doesn’t she know that vampires can be—”

“—dangerous, I know. Listen.” Pete gave him an abbreviated explanation of Dimitar Vujetic’s situation. “She’s got me convinced that Dimitar’s a good guy, and she thinks someone doesn’t like him and so had him framed. But Evey’s missing an angle here. Tom, too, I bet. I just found out a little tidbit that might have something to do with all of this. I can show it to Evey when she gets in tomorrow. And when I do I’m sure she will check it out. But I’d hate to see her get hurt again. The Libyans can be as bad as the vamps … or worse.”

“Damn it, Pete.”

“Evey’s headstrong, Dagger, and I know she
will
give it a look. Somebody’s got to give it a look. I’m thinking—”

“Do you know how to work e-mail?”

Pete growled softly. Did the P.I. think he was stupid? “Of course I can work e-mail.”

“Then send me this so-called dangerous tidbit ‘that might have something to do with all of this.’ I’ll check into it.”

“Tonight?” Pete edged forward and moved the mouse so it opened Evey’s Hotmail account. “Will you check into it tonight?”

The gargoyle cringed slightly when he heard the exhalation of breath.

“Yes, Pete. I have nothing better to do tonight. Can’t do it tomorrow. I’m on a client’s dime starting at noon.”

“So you’ll go to the Tenderloin tonight? Good,” Pete added.

The line went dead and Pete hit “send.”

The gargoyle pushed away from the desk and looked toward the little refrigerator at the back. One or two beers would hit the spot before he downloaded that free trial of
Warcraft.

Chapter 3.11

Dagger McKenzie knew the ’Loin. Where others avoided the neighborhood, particularly its roughest sections, he outright enjoyed the place and usually found an excuse to visit at least every other week. And so he hadn’t minded that Pete’s Internet research led here. He did mind, however, that there’d been no talk of compensation. Dagger had taken on a few too many freebies for the little law firm on Haight. And as much as he liked to help Evelyn, there were limits. He’d stop by the office in the morning and talk to her about getting paid for this evening’s jaunt. He usually billed two hundred and fifty an hour. He’d quote her fifty less than that, a favor for a friend.

Dagger dwarfed the hooker who’d pressed herself up against him. She was pretty, Asian, and her round face was tastefully made up. The top of her head came to the center of his chest, and she looked up and smiled invitingly.

“Show you a good time?”

“I’d like that,” Dagger said. In truth, he would. She’d be a pleasant distraction, and no doubt an hour of her company in this neighborhood would not be expensive. “But not tonight, sweetheart.” She frowned and drifted toward another target.

The hookers were out in number, and Dagger could see over their heads. He stood six feet five, and tonight he wore his jet-black hair loose and grazing his broad shoulders. With thick sideburns too long to be stylish and muscles threatening to burst the sleeves of his denim jacket, he knew he had the look of ex-military. Around here that appearance would make the unsavory element think twice about messing with him.

Dagger stopped in front of the Islamic Temple on Geary, halfway between Jones and Leavenworth Streets. The building was gorgeous, modeled after the Alhambra in Granada, Spain. He’d been inside the original more than a few years back, and he found this one just as impressive … though a little out of place in this block.

The OTs were out in force tonight, too. He spotted a fey with gossamer pink wings that he’d be tempted to approach were he not on a mission. Maybe some other time. He memorized her face and caught a whiff of her as she passed by, sequined mini-skirt sparkling in the lights from the temple. She was wearing Estee Lauder’s
White Linen.
Dagger had amazing senses, and he was familiar with the fragrance, as a previous client had him shadow a woman who worked a cosmetic counter in Union Square, and she always wore
White Linen.

A few goblins bunched together outside a bar a few doors down, chatting animatedly. One of them caught Dagger looking and flipped him the finger. Then they sauntered away and around a corner. A ghoul shuffled along across the street, the humans on the sidewalk granting her a wide berth. Conversations and music rolled out of the opened doors and cars cruising by, urban clamor he ignored.

A dozen feet to the north Dagger saw some imp-looking creature appear to sell drugs to a raggedy-looking teen. Two beat cops paused nearby, and then kept going. Dagger knew that juries didn’t prosecute the small offenses from this area, and so the law didn’t waste its time and only went after more egregious crimes.

Which made the case against Dimitar Vujetic interesting. All this fuss over a dozen pints of blood.

There was no sign of the particular OTs Dagger looked for, and this should be the right street for them. He spotted tourists. There was something about the area that drew them—the clash of luxury hotels, five-star restaurants, massage parlors, head shops, and strip joints. A little something for everyone, he mused as he leaned against the temple and let the time pass. He remembered reading an article in the
San Francisco Examiner
that labeled this area “Hell at your doorstep.”

It wasn’t that bad. Not anymore.

Forty years ago … Dagger would have considered it that bad. In the ’70s the ’Loin was the poorest area in the city, the residents barely eking out livings, stretch after stretch of vacant and boarded up buildings, rats skittering around in broad daylight. In the middle of that decade, close to half of the city’s reported drug overdoses were here, and a quarter of all its homicides.

It still had a way to go, but things had improved—the residents banding together to work for change. Dagger hoped it didn’t improve too much more. It would lose its color and flavor.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, mate?” The imp drug-peddler had made a circuit of the block and approached. He was a little thing, maybe four feet standing on his toes … which were gray and clearly visible against the dirty sidewalk. February, he didn’t seem to mind the cold. His voice was high and tinny. “Somethin’ maybe I can supply?” The creature wore a child-sized trench coat, and made a move to open it. “Good prices. I bet I’ve got something—”

“Nothing you have interests me,” Dagger said. He wrinkled his face. The imp smelled like spoiled bananas. “Get out of here … wait a minute.” He squatted so he was face-to-mug with him. The thing’s odd odor hung heavy in his nostrils. “Nothing I want except, perhaps, information.”

The imp made a clicking sound with his tongue against his tiny pointed teeth. Dagger saw himself reflected in the imp’s wide eyes. “Information is expensive,” the imp returned.

Dagger reached into his back pocket, pulled out a fifty and pressed it onto the imp’s palm. He knew better than to pull out a wallet and risk it being snatched. Dagger would add the fifty to the bill he’d give Evey in the morning. “I want to know where the Libyans are.”

The imp screwed his face into a painful-looking expression. “Oh, I don’t know anything about any Libyans.” He withdrew his hand and went to thrust the fifty into the folds of his coat. Dagger’s arm shot out lightning fast and his fingers closed on the imp’s wrist.

“I think you
do
know about the Libyans.”

A trio of human women in tight, sparkling dresses strolled up, arms linked and awkwardly tipsy. A gaggle of young men in Army fatigues followed. Dagger waited until the entourage was well past them.

“If you’re selling anything on this particular street, you know about the Libyans. I hear they get a take on all the action.”

The imp swallowed hard. “There’s not enough money in the world, mister.”

Dagger squeezed tighter and the imp cringed and buckled. “Where can I find them? I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Th-th-that’s good,” the imp returned. “Good that you’re not going to ask me again. Because I’m not going to tell you.” Then he twisted and slipped Dagger’s grip. He took off running to the south. Dagger stood and watched.

When the imp was out of sight, Dagger leaned back against the temple again, listened to the whine of a clarinet, a street performer a block or so away. The faint clink of a tambourine provided the syncopated measure. He looked at his watch and waited a few minutes, and then he turned and followed the imp. He’d purposely let his quarry slip his grasp.

Dagger’s sharp senses separated the dried sweat of beggars who clung to a gap between buildings, the assorted smells that wafted from restaurants serving dinner to early patrons, and the battling perfumes of the hookers. He honed in on the imp’s unique rotten-banana odor and unerringly tracked the creature to a strip club two blocks away. The place was called Hair of the Dog. He let out a laugh—so obvious it had escaped his consideration! He’d been past it before, but never inside it. Dagger’s tastes were usually a tad more upscale. He sniffed and registered the biting odor of urine at the buildings corners. Several someones had marked their territory.