Practical Demonkeeping

“I don’t think they’ll let me hold the parchment up long enough for Howard to translate. They’ll suspect something.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Robert pushed the napkin he had been writing on in front of Travis. It was covered with fractions and ratios.

Looking at it, Travis was baffled. “What does this mean?”

“It means that I can put a Polaroid back on one of my Nikons and when you hold up the parchments, I can photograph them, hand the Polaroid to Howard, and thirty seconds later he can start translating. The ratios show that the print will be readable on the Polaroid. I just need enough time to focus and set exposure, maybe three seconds.” Robert looked around the table.

Howard Phillips was the first to speak. “It sounds feasible, although fraught with contingencies.”

Augustus Brine was smiling.

“What do you think, Gus?” Robert asked.

“You know, I always thought you were a lost cause, but I think I’ve changed my mind. Howard’s right, though — there’s lot of ifs involved. But it might work.”

“He is still a lost cause,” the Dji

“It’s hopeless,” Travis said.

Brine said, “No, it’s not. It’s just very difficult. We have to get the candlesticks before they know about the seal. We’ll use a diversion.”

“Are you going to explode more flour?” asked Gian Hen Gian.

“No. We’re going to use you as bait. If Catch hates you as much as you say, he’ll come after you and Travis can grab the candlesticks and run.”

“I don’t like it,” Travis said. “Not unless we can get Je

“I agree,” said Robert.

“Do you have a better idea?” Brine asked.

“Rachel is a bitch,” Robert said, “but I don’t think she’s a killer. Maybe Travis can send Je

“That still leaves the Elliotts,” Brine said. “And besides, we don’t know if the demon knows the seal is in the candlesticks. I think we go for the diversion plan. As soon as Howard has the invocation translated, Gian Hen Gian should step out of the woods and we all go for it.”

Howard Phillips said, “But even if you have the seal and the invocation, you still have to read the words before the demon kills us all.”

“That’s right,” said Travis. “And the process should begin as soon as Rachel starts reading the words I translate, or Catch will know something is up. I can’t bluff on the translation at my end.”

“You don’t have to,” Brine said. “You simply have to be slower than Howard, which doesn’t sound like a problem.”

“Wait a second,” Robert said. He was out of his seat and across the bar to where Mavis was standing. “Mavis, give me your recorder.”

“What recorder?” she said coyly.

“Don’t bullshit me, Mavis. You’ve got a microcassette recorder under the bar so you can listen to people’s conversations.”

Mavis pulled the recorder out from under the bar and reluctantly handed it over to Robert. “This is the solution to the time problem,” Robert said. “We read the invocation into this before the genie comes out of the woods. When and if we get the candlesticks, we play it back. This thing has a high speed for secretaries to use when typing dictation.”

Brine looked at Travis. “Will it work?”

“It’s not any more risky than anything else we’re doing.”

“Who’s voice do we use?” Robert asked. “Who gets the responsibility?”

The Dji

Robert checked his watch. “We’ve got a half hour and I still have to pick up my cameras at The Breeze’s trailer. Let’s meet at the U-PICK-EM sign in fifteen minutes.”

“Wait — we need to go over this again,” Travis said.

“Later,” Brine said. He threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table and headed toward the door. “Robert, use Howard’s car. I don’t want this whole thing depending on your old truck starting. Travis, Gian Hen Gian, you ride with me.”

33

RIVERA

During the drive to Pine Cove, Rivera was nagged by the idea that he had forgotten something. It wasn’t that he hadn’t reported where he was going; he had pla

He called into the house and waited for an answer. None came.

Only cops and vampires have to have an invitation to enter, he thought. But there is probable cause. The part of his mind that functioned like a district attorney kicked in.

“So, Sergeant Rivera,” the lawyer said, “you entered a private residence based on a computer data base that could have been no more than a mailing list?”

“I believed that Effrom Elliott’s name on the list represented a clear and present danger to a private citizen, so I entered the residence.”

Rivera drew his revolver and held it in his right hand while he held his badge out in his left.

“Mr. and Mrs. Elliott, this is Sergeant Rivera from the Sheriff’s Department. I’m coming in the house.”

He moved from room to room a

Should he call for backup?

The D.A. said: “And so you entered the house on what basis?”

Rivera came through the door low and rolled. He lay for a moment on the floor of the empty room, feeling stupid.

What now? He couldn’t call in and report a bullet hole in a residence that he had probably entered illegally, especially when he hadn’t reported that he was in Pine Cove in the first place.

One step at a time, he told himself.

Rivera returned to his unmarked car and reported that he was in Pine Cove.

“Sergeant Rivera,” the dispatcher said, “there is a message for you from Technical Sergeant Nailsworth. He said to tell you that Robert Masterson is married to the granddaughter of Effrom Elliott. He said he doesn’t know what it means, but he thought you should know.”

It meant that he had to find Robert Masterson. He acknowledged the message and signed off.

Fifteen minutes later he was at The Breeze’s trailer. The old pickup was gone and no one answered the door. He radioed the station and requested a direct patch to the Spider.

“Nailgun, can you get me Masterson’s wife’s home address? He gave the trailer as residence when we brought him in. And give me the place where she works.”

“Hold on, it’ll be just a second for her address.” Rivera lit a cigarette while he waited. Before he took the second drag, Nailsworth came back with the address and the shortest route from Rivera’s location.

“It will take a little longer for the employer. I have to access the Social Security files.”

“How long?”

“Five, maybe ten minutes.”

“I’m on my way to the house. Maybe I won’t need it.”

“Rivera, there was a fire call at that address this morning. That mean anything to you?”

“Nothing means anything to me anymore, Nailsworth.”

Five minutes later Rivera pulled up in front of Je

“Je

“No,” Rivera said. “If she’s not here, I’ll go over there. It’s just a few doors down from my next stop.”

“You need anything else?” Nailsworth sounded as if he was holding something back.

“No,” Rivera said. “I’ll call if I do.”