Many Bloody Returns

“Stella, did you ever read the Nancy Drew books?”

“Why?” Before he could answer, she said, “Are you seriously suggesting we go snooping around like Nancy Drew to find out what happened to Jane?”

“Why not? We’ve got no plans for the next few days.”

“And you believe you can solve a murder in a few days when the police haven’t been able to in two years?”

“I don’t think it’s any more ridiculous than believing in vampires.”

She gave him a look.

“Okay, maybe it is,” he conceded. “But how about this? We snoop around for a few days, and if nothing comes of it, we’ll hire a private investigator. How does that sound?”

“Ridiculous.” Then she smiled. “Let’s do it.”

Mark still didn’t believe Jane Doe’s spirit was watching, but he sketched a salute toward her tombstone as they left, just in case.

“What first?” he said once they were in the car.

“Are you admitting that even though this was your idea, you have no plans about what we should do first?”

“I’m a big-picture guy. I leave the details to you.”

“I see,” Stella said dryly. “In that case, I think I’d like to meet my third-cousin once removed, or whatever relation Officer Norcomb is to me.”

They decided making another call to the police station to track him down might provoke unwelcome attention, so rather than drive back to get to Mark’s laptop in Raleigh, Stella called Ramon in Boston and asked him to find Norcomb’s address and directions to his house.

After hanging up, she said, “By the way, Ramon said—”

“I know, he said to remind me to put dirt in my bed. Smug bastard! I’ll come up with a way to get him back one of these days.”

“Would it help if I mentioned that Ramon is afraid of snakes?”

“Is he?” Mark said with just the kind of fiendish grin a vampire was supposed to sport. He was happily plotting revenge when they passed by Norcomb’s house. A squad car was parked in the driveway, making it a good bet that Stella’s cousin was at home.

Stella drove a few blocks farther and parked outside a dark house. “Does he live alone?”

“No wedding band, so he’s not married, and he mentioned calling his mother, so he doesn’t live with her,” Mark said.

“Good. I don’t want to risk anybody seeing the car, so you take it and keep circling the area. I’ll call you on the cell when I need you.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

“Don’t get lost!” She scooted out and was gone in a blink, while Mark moved to the driver’s seat to randomly drive up and down the streets of the housing development, hoping nobody would notice him. An hour and a half later, his cell rang.

“Stella?”

“No, it’s dear old Aunt Estelle. Do you remember that big red house right after we turned onto Norcomb’s street?”

“Having driven past it approximately twenty-eight times tonight, I doubt I’ll ever forget it.”

“Pick me up there.”

“Aye aye—”

“Once was fu

“Yes, beloved.”

“That one never gets old.”

“Neither do we,” Mark said, and broke the co

Stella wasn’t in sight when he drove up but appeared at his window almost immediately. “Move over.” She climbed in and, as she got the car moving, tossed a yellow legal pad and a videotape into his lap.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“My notes from my talk with Norcomb and a copy of the Wal-Mart security tape. Or rather the copy of his copy that I had him make. If he’d had a photocopier, I’d have copied the case files, too.”

“He had all that at his house?”

“For one, your talk today got him thinking about Jane again, and for another, I think he’s a little obsessed with her.”

“Clearly.” Then a thought occurred to him. “He didn’t kill her himself, did he?”

“Nancy Drew would be proud of you,” she said approvingly, “but no, he did not. I asked.”

“You’re sure? How thoroughly did you bespell him?”

“Deeply enough that he won’t remember me, you, or Aunt Estelle. I could have made him forget his own address while I was at it, but that seemed a bit excessive.”

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that.”

“It just takes practice,” she said.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Everything he knows about the case, but there wasn’t a lot more than what he told you, unless you count the forensic details: decomposition, tissue damage, lividity. I’d have been done half an hour sooner if I hadn’t had to ask what all the terminology means.”

“You’ll have to watch more CSI. Any leads we can use?”

“Possibly. It turns out that Jane was at Be

“That’s where I met Norcomb. Kind of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Not really. How many restaurants do you think there are in Allenville?”

“Good point. Was she there before or after her shopping spree?”

“Before, when her outfit was still noticeable. Black on black, with a skull ring.”

“No wonder she threw it away.”

“A good thing she did, or the murderer would have disposed of it along with the clothes she was wearing when he killed her.”

“What difference does that make?”

“Well, it turns out my cousin is one devoted investigator. He went to the dump and found Jane’s old clothes, still stuffed in the shopping bag.”

“Don’t tell me he had that at his house, too?”

“He did. Having a boy like that in the family does my heart proud.”

“And well it might. Did you learn anything from the clothes?”

“I didn’t want to handle them too much—I’ve watched enough CSI to know about contaminating evidence—but I did get a good whiff of them. Of course, I got a good whiff of garbage from the dump, too, but still, I’ve got Jane’s scent.”

“Stella, how good do you smell?”

“Sweet enough to make bees give up roses, according to the perfume bottle.”

“Granted, even without the perfume, but I was referring to your sense of smell. Compared to, say, a bloodhound’s.”

“I’ve never made the comparison,” she said, “but I am considered gifted, even for a vampire.”

“Gifted enough that you’ll be able to track her after two years?”

“It’s a long shot, but since this whole idea is a long shot…”

“True enough.”

It took a while for Stella to find a secluded parking place somewhat near where Jane’s body had been found, though it was still a long enough walk that Mark was glad they were wearing ru

Finally they found the spot Stella was sure matched the description in the police report, just past a decrepit wooden fence. The neon of Be

“Now I know why you reeked when you came to bed today,” she said.

Mark inhaled deeply and regretted it. “I see what you mean about chicken farms. They’re foul. Or fowl, if you’d rather.”

“It’s not the chicken,” Stella said. “Yes, I smell them, and yes, they are foul, but there’s something else.”

He started to ask what she meant, but she was leaning over, sniffing at the ground. Mark decided further bloodhound references would not go over well, so concentrated on staying out of her way as she wandered this way and that, sometimes breaking into a run so fast that he’d have lost her if he weren’t a vampire, too.

Finally, after he’d chased her over what seemed like half the state, Stella came to a dead stop. “Here.”

“You actually tracked her?” he said incredulously.

“No, you were right. It’s been too long. I caught a trace of Jane’s scent back where the body was, but that’s it.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I smelled somebody else. There’s another body here, Mark—we’re standing on the grave.”

“Are you sure?”

“Can’t you smell it?”

“You know I’m new at this,” he grumbled, but leaned over and tried again. She was right. The stench of death was there, though masked by the chickens’ stink and several feet of earth between them and the corpse. “It’s not fresh.”