Charlaine Harris - Crimes by Moonlight

I walked out as if in a fog. MacAullif had to take my arm, guide me to the car.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a shock, seeing ’em cut up like that.”

“I’ve been in a morgue before.”

“Don’t get hung up on the stake. There’s more important things here. Like who killed him, for instance.”

“I know who killed him.”

“Oh?”

“It was her father. He couldn’t stand him messing around with his little girl.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure. If I was her father, I might have killed him myself.”

“He was that bad?”

“Actually, I kind ofliked him.”

“You really think it’s the father?”

“Yeah.”

IT was Daddy all right. MacAullif picked him up, shook him down, he caved right in. That’s how it is with some tough guys. They put up a good front until their luck turns. Daddy spilled his guts. Admitted it all.

“Except for the stake,” MacAullif said. “He won’t admit to the stake.”

“What?”

“Claims he never saw the stake. Didn’t mention it till we brought it up. Then he denied it.”

“Really?”

MacAullif waved it away. “Not that it matters. He admits to the knife. Between his confession and the testimony of the medical examiner, we got him dead to rights.”

I nodded as if I agreed. But that wooden stake would haunt me long after the event. As would the image of the goth girl, her boyfriend dead, her daddy convicted of the crime. A hell of a legacy to carry with her. I had visions of her getting a law degree, finding a loophole, getting Daddy out. A pipe dream, of course. But sometimes pipe dreams keep you going.

Yeah, MacAullif was satisfied. But I couldn’t help thinking of that wooden stake.

The way I saw it, there were only two ways that could have happened.

I only met the vampire once, but as I told MacAullif, I liked him. I don’t know if he was crazy or playacting or what, but within his own separate universe, he seemed to have his own set of rules. There was a certain gallant nobility about him. I could imagine him, realizing he was dying, wanting to go out with a bang. Or not wanting to disappoint the goth. Or wanting to keep up the mystique, for to him image was everything.

I could imagine him pulling the wooden stake out of his pocket and sticking it in the knife wound in his heart.

Either that, or Daddy was lying. Not unusual in a perpetrator, though somewhat unlikely in one confessing all. Still, I could imagine the guy being embarrassed about it, withholding it because he figured it didn’t matter.

And because he couldn’t face it.

Because, according to the medical report, Daddy killed the vampire right after I left him that night. Which meant that, despite Debbie’s warning, and in spite of the fact I never spotted him, Daddy was there when I spoke to the vampire. Daddy saw the vampire show me the stake and put it back in his pocket. So Daddy knew it was there.

I could envision Daddy stabbing the kid again and again and again with the butcher knife, and he still won’t die. Until, in spite of himself, Daddy takes the wooden stake out of the vampire’s pocket, and plunges it into his heart. He drags the body into the bushes, throws dirt over him. And refuses to admit, even to himself, that the stake was what killed him.

It had to be one or the other.

Either way, it freaks me out.

“Do we have to go?” Mark asked, trying to make it a question instead of a whine.

“Yes.” Stella finished brushing her hair. “Ramon throws lovely parties.”

“With dribble glasses and whoopee cushions on every chair?” It was Ramon who’d told Mark that vampires had to sleep in the dirt of their native land, who’d talked him into drinking canine blood so he could tell everybody that Mark was sick as a dog. He’d nearly convinced Mark to cut off a finger by swearing on his own grave that it was painless and would grow back, but Stella had stopped him before he found out how much the regrowing process would hurt.

“Even Ramon wouldn’t make a mockery of his own sire’s anniversary celebration,” Stella said. “And Vilmos would be extremely offended if we didn’t attend.”

“God forbid we should offend Vilmos,” Mark muttered. “Should I call him Grandfather or Granddaddy?” Since Stella was Mark’s dam, surely her sire deserved a title.

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Gramps? Grandpa?”

“Just Vilmos. He isn’t known for his sense of humor.”

“There’s a surprise.”

She cocked her head to look at him. “Are you jealous?”

“Just because we’re spending the weekend honoring the vampire with whom you spent decades traveling from one exotic hot spot to another? Why would I be jealous?”

“I have no interest in Vilmos.” She kissed him so thoroughly that he was forced to admit her sincerity.

“What about his interest in you?”

“He has none.”

He took in her curvaceous figure, currently enhanced by a perfectly fitted strapless red gown; the chestnut brown hair that just brushed her bare shoulders; and the lovely face that always seemed to have a secretive smile. “Why the hell not?”

She kissed him again, even more sincerely. “Please come to the gala with me?”

“Since you put it that way.” They took a moment to wipe off and reapply lipstick respectively, and he said, “What about Pop-Pop?”

She squeezed his arm affectionately, but hard enough to bruise a human.

“Vilmos it is,” he said as he opened the door.

Despite Ramon’s questionable taste in humor, Mark had to admit that he had superb taste in mansion decorating. Stella’s and his suite was as luxurious as the finest hotel, and some of the others made theirs look like a Motel 6. Vilmos had the best accommodations, but he was the birthday boy as well as one of the oldest vampires there.

A crowd of vampires was mingling in the ballroom when Mark and Stella made their appearance, plus a scattering of humans. Mark was surprised. He wasn’t used to humans socializing with vampires, but before he could ask Stella about them, Ramon bounded over.

With a name like that, he should have been swarthy and sleek, but like everything to do with Ramon, it was a joke. He was a bearded teddy bear with strawberry blond hair and deceptively innocent blue eyes. Mark had it on good authority that he’d been freckled before spending so many years out of the sun.

“Stella, you look fabulous,” Ramon said, kissing her hand. “And Marcus, you’re perfectly adequate.”

“That’s one of us,” Mark said. He knew he looked damned good in his new tuxedo. With his dark hair and swimmer’s build, he was made for evening wear. Ramon, on the other hand, looked like a waiter. Maybe it was the cummerbund. Mark had never seen one decorated with happy faces before.

Ramon just grinned before going to greet more guests.

“Excited much?” Mark asked.

“It’s his first time hosting Vilmos’s gala. He wants everything to be perfect.”

“Then he should lose the cummerbund.”

A gaunt but elegant vampire waved them over to the couch where she lounged. “Stella, dearest!”

“Alexis,” Stella said as she went toward her. “How have you been?”

“Eternally bored,” she said, and gave Mark the once-over. “This must be your new protégé.”

“Alexis, this is Mark. Mark, Alexis.”

“It’s so brave of you to add to your line in these uncertain times, Stella.”

“I simply couldn’t resist him.”

“Has Vilmos seen him yet?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Mark said for himself, “but if he’s as warm and welcoming as you, I can hardly wait.”