Dead Of Night

“What was she on?” Eve asked.

“I don’t know, but she was strung. We scratched at each other about that, but it was mostly her telling me how I had to go with her to this club, meet this guy and his friends. She said he was complete, the absolute. That they’d banged all night, and it was the best she’d ever had. She nagged me brainless about it until I said I’d go.”

Shaking her head, Daffy drank again. “Then later I started thinking how even if I didn’t use, she would, and I’d get busted. So I tagged her back and told her I wasn’t going, and why didn’t we hook up with this guy somewhere else. No go. His club or nowhere.”

“His club?”

“Not like he owned it. Or maybe he does. She never said; I never asked. But she got stewed because I wouldn’t go, and Carm’s in New L.A. until next month, so she couldn’t pull her instead of me.”

Eve waited while Daffy brooded into the mocha she’d so desperately wanted. “Do you know if anyone else went with her to this club? Any of your other mutual friends?”

“I don’t think so. I never heard any buzz about it, not from anyone but Tee. Anyway, we didn’t talk for a couple days, then yesterday she came by here, earlier than this even. Like just after sunrise. She looked bottomed. Pale and glassy-eyed. Using again, and she hadn’t been using before this run for that whole six months. She was still hyped, talking wild. Going to live forever, that’s what she said. Laughing and busting around. She and her prince were going to live forever, and screw me for flipping her off. I tried to get her to stay, but she wouldn’t, just told me I’d be sorry, I’d had my chance. Now he was only taking her.”

“Taking her where?” Eve asked.

“I don’t know. She wasn’t making any sense. I’m telling you, she was over. I got pissy right back at her, and we yelled at each other, then she stormed out. And now she’s dead.”

“That’s the last time you saw or spoke with her?”

“Yeah. Did he hurt her? I mean…you didn’t say how she, she died. Did he hurt her?”

“I can’t tell you that yet, I’m sorry.”

“She’s such a baby about pain.” Daffy swiped the back of her hand over her cheek. “I hope he didn’t hurt her. I should’ve gone to the club that night. If I’d gone to the club instead of South Beach, maybe…Is it my fault? I should’ve looked after her better. She got sucked into stuff so easy. Is it my fault?”

“No, it’s not your fault.”

“She was almost a year older, but I was the one who looked after her-mostly. I could pull her back from the edge when she went too far. But I didn’t, you know? I just told her she was being an idiot or whatever. Only Tee would actually believe in vampires.”

“Vampires?” Eve repeated as Peabody sucked in her breath.

“Yeah. The prince deal? The Dark Prince. Living forever. Get it?” Daffy gave a harsh laugh that choked on a sob. “She thought this guy was a frigging vampire, like for real, and he was going to make her one so she’d be immortal. That’s what the club was-a wa

“Didn’t I say vampire? I said vampire right off.” Peabody gave a smug nod as they exited the building.

“And our vic’s going to be deeply disappointed when she just stays dead. Track down this club. I’d love a little chat with the Dark Prince.”

“It’s not like I believe in the undead or anything.” Peabody slid into the passenger seat. “But it wouldn’t hurt, once we find this guy, to interview him during the day. In a room with good natural lighting.”

“Sure. And requisition some garlic and some wooden stakes while you’re at it.”

“Really?”

“No.” Eve swung out into traffic. “Reach down inside yourself, Peabody, and get a grip on reality, however slippery. Find the club. Right now we’re going to visit somebody who knows all about what’s dead.”

Chief Medical Examiner Morris sent Eve an easy smile as he stood over the naked body of Tiara Kent. He wore a snappy suit the color of good claret with a matching tie thin as straw. His dark hair was intricately braided, and curled into a loop at the nape of his neck.

Eve often thought Morris’s sharp fashion sense was wasted on his clientele.

“Ru

She glanced down at the body. Morris hadn’t yet made his Y cut. “What can you tell me just from the visual?”

“Lieutenant, this woman is dead.”

“ Peabody, note that down. We’ve got a dead woman.”

“With excellent breast work,” Morris added. “And some very first-class sculpting, belly and butt.”

“Jesus, she was twenty-three. Who needs sculpting and new tits at twenty-three?”

Peabody raised her hand, and got a bland look from Eve.

“You’re not twenty-three.”

“Okay, I’ve got a couple years on her, but if they’re handing out butt sculpting, I’m first in line.”

“You have a very nice butt, Detective,” Morris assured her, and made Peabody beam.

“Aw, thanks.”

“And now, back to our regularly scheduled program?” Eve suggested. “The dead woman on the slab.”

“Tiara Kent, party princess. Live fast, die young.” Morris tapped his comp screen to magnify the neck wounds. “These are the only injuries or insults to the body. The victim was exsanguinated through these two punctures in the carotid. No visible signs of physical restraint or struggle. Apparently, she lay there and let him suck her dry.”

“Suck.” Peabody drew a righteous breath through her nose. “See? Vampire bite.”

Morris’s smile spread to a grin. “Impossible not to have a little play with that, isn’t it? The beautiful young blonde, seduced by the Prince of Darkness-or one of his minions-drained of her life’s blood while in his thrall. Cue fog and shadows.”

“Don’t forget the creepy music,” Eve added.

“Of course. Mostly, however, I suspect she was drugged to the eyeballs, and was punctured by an appliance during sex.”

He lifted his eyebrows as he looked down at Tiara. “Of course, I could be wrong, and she’ll pop up shortly after sundown and terrify the night staff.”

“Let’s go with number one,” Eve decided. “If he actually bit her, appliance or not, there’s going to be saliva. Same if he didn’t use a cloak for sex. I bet even vampires have DNA.”

“I’ll send samples to the lab.”

“Guy had her convinced he could give her eternity.” Eve took one last look at Tiara Kent. “Now she gets a steel box in a cold room.”

Three

“Got the club.” Peabody studied the readout on her PPC as they drove toward Cop Central. “Daffy had it right about Times Square, it’s under Broadway. Got the hours, too. Sunset to sunrise.” Peabody tracked her eyes toward Eve’s profile. “Vampire hours.”

“Owner?”

“Eternity Corporation, no owner or manager listed in this data.”

“Dig,” Eve suggested.

“Digging. Are we going by the club now?”

“If the guy frequents the place, works in the place, or owns the place, he’s not going to be there when the joint’s closed. We’ll go after dark.”

“I knew you were going to say that. Aren’t you just a little bit creeped? I mean, at the very least this guy slurps blood.”

“Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t.” Eve stopped at a light, and watched the throng bull, shuffle, and clip its way along the crosswalk. She saw a pair of transvestites in spangled skin-suits, a tourist approaching three hundred and fifty pounds in his baggy shorts-carrying a variety of cams and vids that had to weigh nearly what he did-a kid in a red cape and skullcap streaking through bodies on an airboard, and a mime.

Whatever weirdos existed, New York made them welcome. A self-proclaimed vampire would fit right in.