Mario Acevedo - X-Rated Bloodsuckers

"What makes you sure?"

Katz's voice sharpened. "Roxy had enemies. Powerful enemies."

What kind of enemies could a porn star have? A jealous lover? Drug dealer? A mobster pimp? Any one of these was an easy mark for the police or a young district attorney eager to add a scalp to their trophy belt. Perhaps the problem was that Katz couldn't let go of the tragedy.

Katz kept quiet. Her radiance faded and she looked like a plucked flower starting to wilt.

I perused my notes scrawled on the desk blotter calendar. This month I had the usual: cheating spouses, embezzlement, insurance and workers' comp frauds. Every assignment was in the bag. I needed time alone with the offending parties to zap them with vampire hypnosis and pry out the necessary info. With that knowledge I'd slap together incriminating evidence. Cases closed. Checks in the mail.

Now Katz comes with her tales of a murder conspiracy. I thought of the porn business as attracting the addle-brained. A bunch of neurotics who accumulated problems the same way a dog's hairy ass collected burrs. Maybe Katz needed counseling, rather than my services.

"Ms. Meow, this is the way I see it. You've lost a close friend under random and tragic circumstances. Perhaps, instead of me, you should seek another kind of professional help…"

Katz jerked upright. "What are you getting at? That I need therapy? Well, I don't." Her complexion had been peaches and cream; now it was red as sunburn. She lifted an envelope from her handbag. "What I need is for you to find out who murdered Roxy and why." The tone in her voice became tough like gristle.

I took the envelope.

What did this involve? Murder. Pornography. And all the twisted threads that bound them. Suppose Katz had a legitimate case? "If I agree to help, I'd have to go to California. This investigation would be expensive."

Katz's eyes narrowed, as if my comment insulted her.

I opened the envelope. Inside was a cashier's check for $100,000. I felt my eyebrows rise.

"I see you made this out to me. How were you so sure that I'd take the case?"

"I knew you had to."

She replied with such naive confidence that I stifled a laugh. A hundred thousand bones was a lot of money but not enough to buy me. I waved the check. "Is this your money?"

"Every penny."

Katz had come a long way to ask for help, and I needed a moment as I considered her case. I swiveled my chair around and looked out the window.

A pickup truck pulled up to the burrito stand across the street. My office was at the corner of Tennyson and Forty-fourth in northwest Denver, on the second floor above the entrance to the Oriental Theater. The neon sign of the theater, a gigantic phallus with letters spelling ORIENTAL down its length, was fixed outside my window. At night, the sign swamped my office with a fiery orange glow.

This murder case was an opportunity far beyond snagging cheating spouses or insurance chiselers. I ticked over my reservations. Travel to California. Unfamiliar territory. Dealing with humans I didn't know. The money was tempting, but I didn't need it. I didn't want the challenge-I had nothing to prove to anyone. I couldn't think of a reason to take the case.

I swiveled back and faced Katz. "Why me?"

"You won't believe this, but it's true." Katz glanced over one shoulder to the closed door of my office. She leaned over the edge of my desk, and her eyes filled with sincerity. "It's because Roxy's murder involves vampires."

Her words smacked mewith the force of a pool cue in a bar fight. How would a human like her know about vampires?

Within my belly, my kundalini noir -that black serpent of energy that animates the undead-thrashed in alarm. My fingertips buzzed to signal danger.

Katz Meow couldn't be allowed to live with this knowledge. I would hypnotize her to glean what she knew about vampires. Then I would kill her. I had no other choice.

I dropped my hands behind the desk to hide my extending talons. My growing fangs nudged against the inside of my lip.

"You look like you're coming unglued." Katz gave a short, nervous laugh. "I'm not crazy."

I let my fangs retract. "Then you don't believe in vampires?"

"Should I?"

"Why did you bring them up?"

"Because someone told me Roxy's murder is connected to a deal between people and vampires."

What kind of a deal? My kundalini noir writhed in distress. "Someone who?"

"A friend."

"Give me a name."

Katz crossed her arms. "I came here thinking I was going nuts for even pretending to believe in vampires. I mention the word, and you go ballistic."

She was right. I had lost my cool. My talons withdrew and I placed my hands on the desk. "You mention murder. Next you bring up vampires. I was about to throw you out."

"But you haven't," Katz replied.

"Then talk."

"Rebecca Dwelling," she said.

"Pardon?"

"That's my friend who told me about vampires."

"Why would Rebecca Dwelling think she's run into vampires?" I scribbled the name on my blotter.

"She works at a club where she claims vampires mingle with people," Katz said. "It's a secret place like an SM dungeon. Visitors offer gifts and their blood to vampires. Sounds sick, I know. The people hope that if the vampires find them worthy, they'll be transformed into vampires as a reward."

My senses went back into full alert. What Katz described were chalices, humans who willingly gave themselves to vampires in the perverse hope of becoming vampires themselves. Chalices were the only humans allowed to live with knowledge of the undead, a secret they only dared reveal under the penalty of a swift and gruesome death. Their vampire masters had the responsibility of enforcing this pact, and their failure to do so demanded an immediate execution of both chalice and vampire. Had the secrets of the supernatural world been compromised?

"Do you believe this?" I asked.

"Rebecca does."

"And you don't?"

"Believe in vampires?" Katz chuckled. "Give me a break, Felix. I quit believing in the supernatural, fairy tales, Bible stories, all that crap, after my Sunday school teacher molested me."

"Sorry to hear that."

"That I don't believe?"

"No, the other part. About your Sunday school teacher."

Katz shrugged. "It happened and I moved on. What concerns me are the people who murdered Roxy."

"Would these be the powerful enemies you mentioned?"

"Read for yourself." Katz produced a thick bundle of papers from her handbag. She laid the papers on my desk.

I took the bundle and removed the rubber band. The papers were copies of newspaper clippings and printouts from numerous Web sites. SMUT LADY WINS BATTLE AGAINST PORN COMPANY. QUEEN OF RAUNCH TESTIFIES AGAINST DEVELOPERS. PORN STAR FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY.

"Give me a rundown of these powerful enemies."

"Cragnow Vissoom is the president of the video company Roxy was contracted to."

"What was his problem with her?"

"Roxy had bought out her contract and wanted to start her own company. Cragnow was afraid she'd take his best people."

"Such as you?"

"Me and other girls."

"So?"

Katz rolled her eyes. "It would make Cragnow look like a real chump. What kind of a boss can't control his talent, especially in the skin trade? Plus Roxy made him rich. Before she hired on, Gomorrah Video was small potatoes. Thanks to her, Cragnow became number one in triple X sales and rentals."

People had been murdered for less. That was one suspect.

"And the rest of the enemies?"

"Project Eleven."

"Excuse me?"

"Project Eleven," she repeated. "That's the name of the effort to redevelop the area around the city of Pacoima." Katz raised an eyebrow. "Ever heard of Pacoima?"