The_Amazing_Mr._Howard (32 page)

“No, you won’t. Now get the hell out of here.”

Willard glanced at Alicia’s mutilated body, grimaced, and headed for the stairs.

Back inside his car, he sat staring at the house. The sun edged toward the distant mountains and long shadows stretched across the yard.
They’re all fools. Mr. Howard set this entire thing up. After Killgood told him Alicia helped us find Stephanie, Mr. Howard knew he’d have to get rid of her or risk exposure. She’d already said the killer was an older man with long silver hair, just like Mr. Howard. I’ll bet he has an ax to grind with Van Adams. It wouldn’t surprise me if Van Adams tried to get him fired.

He smacked a palm against the dash. “That one cop said Van Adams looked like a monster with pale skin and he…” Willard touched his temples and grimaced as a thought rolled through his head. “That fucking son of a bitch. It’s true… it’s really true.”

Mr. Howard retrieved a bottle of Dom from the basement. He poured a glass and mixed in the last vile of Stephanie’s blood. Word of Van Adams arrest put him in a celebratory mood. Receiving the news from Killgood, made it all the better. He stirred the blood in the champagne and retired to the living room. Sinking into a leather recliner, he let out a deep sigh. For the first time in weeks, he could relax. Based on what Killgood told him, the cops considered the case against Van Adams airtight. The thought of Van Adams writhing in pain at the hospital made him smile.

Not the kind of life you expected, eh, Luther?

Of course, the court would rule Van Adams insane and order him committed to a mental institution. In a few months, when he needed to replenish Alicia’s blood, and was unable to do so because of his restraints, Van Adams would die a slow, painful death, his body withering like an autumn leaf until, at last, crumbling to dust. That is if the hospital staff hadn’t already killed him by exposing him to sunlight.

Thinking about Alicia took his smile away. He wasn’t surprised when Killgood described the condition of her body and only hoped she didn’t wake during the attack. Too many people had suffered on his account. The telephone rang.

“Hello.”

“I heard what happened. Are you all right?”

“Jennifer, how nice to hear your voice. Yes, I am fine.”

“Thank God. Can you believe the news about Van Adams? And to think I used to sit alone with him in my office. Jesus.”

“We all can be fooled, I think.”

“But not you,” she said, her voice becoming softer like a lover whispering promises across a bed. “Is it true you had a vision that led the police to him?”

“Where are you getting your information?”

“Chief Kaufman called.”

“Ah, yes, Chief Kaufman, head of the campus police. The world is a safer place with him on duty.”

“Do I detect sarcasm?”

He took a sip of his champagne. “To answer your question, it is true. I had a vision of Van Adams with a young woman.”

“I heard about the girl. What a tragedy.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, the good news is,” she said, becoming suddenly cheerful, “I heard that the Board won’t cut your position now. With Van Adams gone, you can stay at the University for as long as you like.”

He’d anticipated this outcome, but for some reason, found the news unfulfilling. If his sole purpose in framing Van Adams was to save his job, and Alicia had died so he could keep teaching, he would have felt even more selfish than he already did. “I appreciate everything you have done for me.”

There was a pause. “I can do more, you know. Much more.”

He remembered her soft body moving against his and the warmth that radiated from between her legs. “We should discuss that on another night. I am tired, bone tired, and need sleep.”

“I thought you slept during the day?”

“Normally that is true, but my vision kept me awake on this day.”

“Yes, I can see how it might. Get some rest and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Jennifer. Good night.”

When she hung up, he pressed against the cool leather of his chair. The thought of being with her would haunt him throughout the night. He got up to fetch his copy of Nietzsche’s
Beyond Good and Evil
. The buzzer went off by the front door to announce someone at the gate.

Who could be visiting at this hour?

He walked to the door and pressed the button. “Yes?”

“It’s Willard. We need to talk.”

Had his wife received the disc and watched his performance with the dwarf? “It is late, Detective. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“It’s about Van Adams and Alicia Whitmore.”

“Van Adams and who?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know her, Professor.”

He hesitated. “Alicia… oh yes, she is the psychic woman. What about her?”

“You know she’s dead,” Willard said. “You called Killgood and told him Van Adams was murdering her.”

“No, I called Killgood and told him Van Adams was killing a young woman he called Alicia. Seeing as I never met this psychic, there is no way for me to have known her identity.”

“Oh really?” Willard said. “Killgood already told me he mentioned Alicia to you after she helped us locate Stephanie Coldstone’s body. After you kept Stephanie a prisoner in your house to extract information you used to make us believe you’re a psychic.”

Well played, Detective, but your move comes too late to change the outcome of our contest.
“Detective, I am very tired and would—”

“Did Van Adams kill her in a blood lust? Did The Hunger drive him insane?”

Mr. Howard’s jaw set. Obviously, Willard was unaware of the sex video or he wouldn’t show up with questions about Van Adams, but the references to vampirism concerned him. Had he made the connection? Did Willard realize he was, in fact, a vampire?

“I read your book, Professor, the one about vampires. The clues are there for someone willing to decipher them.”

Christ, it’s as if he can read my thoughts. Can he also anticipate my future actions? My fool-proof plan is suddenly not so fool-proof, it seems.

“I will unlock the gate.” He pressed the button to open the gate and waited. A car rumbled up the road and stopped outside. He opened the front door before Willard rang the bell. “Good evening, Detective.” Mr. Howard stepped aside and motioned for him to enter.

He closed the door and took a position in front of Willard. “Would you care to sit down? I can fix you a drink.”

“You don’t seriously think I’d trust you to make me a drink?”

“No, I suppose not.” He went to shove his hands inside his pockets and Willard jumped back. “A bit on edge, are we? They have medicine for that.”

“You killed Stephanie Coldstone.”

“And you expect to prove this?”

“No.”

“Why did you refer to my book when talking about Van Adams?”

Willard gazed around the house. “That’s why he killed her, isn’t it? You learned Alicia was helping us and had to stop her before she exposed you. So, you kidnapped Alicia and took her to Van Adams’s house. Why not kill two birds with one stone? She’d be dead, Van Adams would get arrested, and the real killer walks. The perfect plan.”

“Not so perfect if someone like you could figure it out.”

Willard met him with a cold stare. “You knew no one would believe me when I told them you’re a vampire.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Cut the bullshit, Professor.”

“Very well. What is your intention? You must have a reason for coming to my home?”

Willard reached inside his jacket. He drew a pistol. “Someone has to stop you.”

“I have lived four centuries. I have witnessed the horror of war and the rise of technology. During the course of my life, the world has turned from a love of God to a love of gold. I have known kings and beggars, saints and sinners, but I have never known anyone quite like you. Your dogged pursuit is to be applauded. Your use of logic admired. But if you believe I will let you kill me, you are the biggest of fools.”

The gun shook in Willard’s hand. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you’d say.”

“And still you have come.”

“Like I said, someone has to stop you.”

He focused on the barrel of the gun. “Are you certain a gun will kill me?”

Willard smirked. “According to your book it will.”

“Ah, yes, my book. I forgot you knew how to read. Very well, shoot me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Shoot.”

Willard’s left eye closed. A vein that snaked down the side of his neck started to twitch. “This is for your victims.”

The gun went off with a boom. Mr. Howard staggered, his chest on fire, but remained upright. He examined a smoldering hole in his shirt. “Direct hit in the heart. Impressive shooting.”

Willard stared at the gun in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Did you really think I would write instructions for how to kill me?”

Willard aimed again and fired.

A flash of fire. Flesh tore apart where the bullet ripped into his cheek. Bone exploded as the shell exited behind his ear. A heavy pressure, as if his head were being crushed in a vice, spread across his skull. Blood filled his mouth with a metallic taste. He touched a hand to the wound. “That may leave a scar.”

Willard turned to run. Mr. Howard flew past to block his escape. The detective raised the gun and Mr. Howard ripped it from his hand. “Son of a bitch.”

Mr. Howard laughed. “Yes, you are most likely the son of a bitch.” He pulled back the slide to unload the gun and pushed the switch to drop the ammunition clip. “Take it,” he said, handing the empty pistol back to Willard.

Willard stared at the gun for a moment before snatching it back.

“Do not worry, Detective. I have no intention of killing you. The last thing I need is a dead cop in my house. Besides, you cannot hurt me, and you know it. Tell the world what I am and see what happens. You will soon find yourself locked away with Van Adams.”

Willard slipped the gun back into its holster. “You figure this is the end, but you’re wrong. I’ll never stop coming after you.”

Mr. Howard walked to the door and held it open. “I tremble at the thought. Now leave before I change my mind and decide to tear you apart.”

Willard stomped past with a scowl. He slammed the door on his car and tore out of the driveway, gravel spitting. Mr. Howard waited until he drove through the gate and closed the door. His chest and face ached where he had been shot. He stared at his palm, red with Stephanie’s blood, and was glad he couldn’t see his reflection.

Willard’s heart raced as he drove home. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been to trust Mr. Howard’s book. Of course he wouldn’t tell anyone how to kill him. But there had to be a way to kill a vampire and he was determined to find out how.

Then it hit him. Mr. Howard was a vampire. A
real
fucking vampire who could’ve killed him. Jesus H. Christ. He shivered despite the August heat while remembering what Van Adams had done to Alicia Whitmore.

He arrived home to a dark house. For once, he wished someone was awake to talk to, even if it was Doris. He needed to try and explain what he’d just experienced. He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from the pantry and retreated to his office, where he spent an hour drinking and researching how to kill vampires.

The more he read, the more he became convinced that there must be something to the old methods. If he could break into Mr. Howard’s home while he slept and drive a stake through his heart, then maybe, just maybe, he could end the nightmare. The bastard had to die, that much was certain.

When he tired of researching vampires, he opened the swinger’s website. After reading the message from Ride me like a Shetland Pony again, he fired off a quick response asking if she would like to get together. He next checked the profile page of the Siamese twins and sent them a message asking if they would also like to hook up. A smile flickered over his lips as he imagined himself engaged in a ménage a trios with the dwarf and the Siamese twins. But would it be a ménage a trios or did the Siamese twins count as two people? Maybe the dwarf only counted as half a person. This thought stayed with him as he turned off the computer.

He staggered into the hallway, stopped outside the kids’ rooms, and peeked inside. The sight of them asleep in their beds filled him with a sense of satisfaction. Maybe tomorrow he would take them to the hospital to see their mother. Hell, after surviving Mr. Howard, he could survive a few minutes in a room with Doris.

He stumbled into his bedroom. The whisky made his head spin. He nearly fell over as he stripped down to his boxers. He collapsed onto the bed and quickly drifted into a deep sleep.

***

He awoke and tried to move. Something cold and hard restrained his wrists. Willard opened his eyes and looked up. His wrists were handcuffed to the headboard, and ankles bound. He immediately thought of Mr. Howard. Had the vampire come to finish him off? He raised his head and shouted, “Dave, Margo!”

Nothing.

He tried again. Still no answer.

The bedroom door creaked open. Dave and Margo crept into the room with grim expressions. “What in the hell is going on?” he shouted. Dave turned on the television on the dresser. “Take these goddamn handcuffs off me.”

Dave slipped a disc into the DVD player. After several seconds, the screen came to life. Willard’s jaw dropped at the image of him fucking the dwarf. He turned to his kids. “Where did you get this?”

They remained silent.

“Where did you get this video!”

“How could you do this to Mom?” Dave asked. “While she’s been lying in the hospital, you were out screwing some midget?”

He struggled against the handcuffs. Steel rattled against wood. “You don’t understand what’s happening here. Your mother hasn’t always been good to me. I’ve tried to help her, I really have, but—”

“Shut up!” Margo screamed her eyes wild and glassy with tears. “We’ve seen the way you help people and we’re sick of it.”

He tried to yank his hands out of the cuffs, but they dug into his flesh like dull razor blades. “Listen to me. This isn’t what you think it is. I’ve been framed. Now, turn me loose and we’ll talk.”