Just when I think I have a chance at living a good life, maybe help a few people and redeem myself in my own eyes. Someone else’s present becomes my past and I know the scales are still unbalanced.
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"Beth, thanks for meeting me for lunch.” Ben rose from his chair as Beth stepped up to the small table covered by the large umbrella. He shook her hand giving it an extra gentle squeeze as she smiled at him. “There's some things I want to talk about away from the office."
"Hey, I'll choose a pleasant café lunch outside over the cafeteria any day." Beth leaned back in her chair as she watched a young woman come up behind him. "There is of course the danger of being recognized—I think someone has serious business with you.”
Talbot swiveled in his chair, looking over his shoulder. “You're about to meet my sister."
Swooping in to give him a peck on the cheek she announced, "Benjamin Talbot! You have been avoiding me! Since I’m clearly left in the dark about your life and I am barging in on your lunch date, who is this joining us for lunch?"
“Sit down Sis, this is Beth Turner one of my Investigators. Beth, Caitlin--kid sister, emphasis on the 'kid.'” Ben cocked his head in her direction and lifted his eyebrows when his sister stuck her tongue out at him. “See what I mean.”
"Well this kid's biological clock is ticking.” Ben hid his head behind his hand. “Good, I'm glad to see you can still blush." Caitlin smiled at her brother.
Beth stood and extended her hand to Caitlin. "Why don’t I excuse myself, I'm very pleased to meet you." Noticing her engagement ring, Beth smiles, "Congratulations on your engagement."
Beth turned leave and looked back at Ben grinning. “I’m leaving you to your fate. Would you do me a favor and get my lunch to go? I'll see you back at the office. I'm going to be imagining Uncle Ben all afternoon as it is, without hearing about the biological clock details.”
As Beth leaves Caitlin starts to teases Ben. "You like her, don't you Ben." Caitlin watched as Beth as walked away.
"Your matchmaking tendencies never take a vacation do they? Beth works for me Caitlin, and she's dating someone else."
"That never stopped you before." Caitlin gave her brother a mischievous grin that caused him to laugh.
"Ha, well she's dating a scary guy--a vigilante P.I. who is about 8 different kinds of weird. Girls who like the bad boys never liked me.”
He made an annoyed look as he thought about Mick St. John being everywhere Beth seemed to be, invited or not. He looked back toward his sister who looked more than ready to continue the conversation he’d been dodging for weeks. He set his jaw then turned to his sister. “Listen Ben,” she said, “Whether you like Beth or not, what happens when you meet someone and you want a family? Won't you want to know about our parents then?" Her eyes suddenly soften with a hint of sadness in them.
"I don't plan on having a family and if I do, I will take my chances like the parents who raised us." He leaned forward already uncomfortable with this familiar conversation. This was an old argument which brought up old memories he would rather forget.
"Well I want to know about our parents." She sat back in her chair, exasperated with her brother. “Ben I need your help, you're a lawyer. I can't get past the sealed records. I've placed all the adopted child notices to let our parents know I'm looking. Please, Ben.” Her eyes were pleading as she touched his hand wanting her brother to see how desperately she wanted this.
“I'm not that kind of lawyer. Did you ever think our biological parents might be dead?” He said in his direct manner that always sounded sarcastic, even to her, his sister.
“C'mon Ben." Caitlin was beginning to get angry. “Don’t patronize me!”
"I'm sorry Caitlin, I don’t mean to sound cold. I just don't want to know--not like you do." Ben rose from the table and kissed his sister on the head smoothing his tie as he stood up. “Good luck.”
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The last sliver of the waning moon is setting. Walking down the beach at night has become an intermittent ritual when the moon and tide cooperate.
Beth slides her arm around Mick's waist behind his jacket hooking her thumb in the waistband of his trousers. Mick squeezes her toward him in a one-armed hug.
"I met Ben Talbot's sister today." Mick said as he looked at the moon hovering above the horizon.
"So did I, Ben had been avoiding her. She ambushed him at the restaurant." Beth smiled a little as she remembered the conversation.
"You had lunch with Talbot?" Mick said looking down at her giving her a mischievous grin.
"We were going to have lunch but then his sister came by. It looked like she was ready to tell embarrassing family stories, so I excused myself and left."
"Talbot…" Mick said as he looked away back toward the ocean.
"Mick, I'll have lunch with you too, anytime you want to free me from the halls of justice. Take me to a sidewalk café one on the shady side of the street.” She pulled on his waist and smiled as he placed a kiss her forehead. “You're jealous." She gave him a devilish grin looking up at him.
"No, just jealous of your time." He was not going to admit that he was a little jealous of Talbot. His pride wouldn’t let him do that. Joking about Talbot had become routine, although he made them both uneasy for different reasons. "I'm going to have to kiss you, reassert my claims." Mick said as he stopped for a moment pulling her tight to his chest. Brushing his lips against hers he pulled back just a fraction until her lips opened. He inhaled sharply to fix the moment, Beth, the night, the ocean air all in his memory before he returned to her.
"Mmmm, I definitely feel reclaimed,” breaking their kiss. “So are you going to tell me about Ms. Talbot, or invoke the client confidentiality clause?” Mick released her with a sigh of disappointment.
"Actually I told her I wouldn't take her case when I figured out she was Talbot's sister. She wants to find their biological parents." Mick took Beth’s hand as they continued up the beach.
"They're adopted? There's a story there—when Ben came back to the office he asked me about being taken. He said, 'How much did I really want to know?' And if I had a chance to find out more, would I take it." Beth looked at her feet as the sand began to squish
between her toes. Mick guided them closer to the waves. The wind off the ocean began to blow her hair across her eyes.
"What did you say?" Mick asked gently, thinking about how Coraline had stalked them as Morgan Vincent and how Beth’s fierce desire for the truth had stripped away any protection granted by forgetfulness.
"I told Talbot I had found out more about being taken and that it was a lot to process."
Beth feels herself stiffen, just mentioning it tonight is enough to replay the memory. Coraline clinging high on the wall, the fight, the fire and the charged sexual atmosphere that she didn’t understand as a child.
Mick hears her pulse jump and listens as her breathing starts to become shallow and rapid. "Is it still a lot to process?" He squeezes her arm; his touch and the concern in his voice brings her back to the present.
"Sometimes," Beth whispers, the memory begins to recede and her focus returns to the moment.
"Sit down with me.” Mick suggests. As they arrange themselves on the sand with Beth resting herself against Mick looks down at her. “You amaze me Beth. You do know that?” Stroking her cheek with his thumb he thinks to himself I’m a lucky man.
As the moon finally sets, Beth regretfully shifts gets up. "I need to get back, I have to work tomorrow." Mick stands up and looking disappointed extends a hand to lift Beth from the sand.
Walking back Mick says with a grin, "Talbot's sister told me she got the idea to hire a Private Investigator from him. He mentioned one of his investigators was dating a "scary PI" who was eight different kinds of weird."
"So what'd she do, when she figured out you were the "scary PI." Beth tugged on Mick’s arm.
"She ran screaming from the room." Beth laughs, something between a giggle and a snort. Mick elaborated, "Actually she looked embarrassed and apologized. I hope she has a half a dozen kids, she'll need that many to stay out of trouble.” Pulling Beth close in to his side, he says,” It's a new moon on Friday and unless you have to go in on Saturday…"
"It's a date."
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Music: Escape
"Moonlit walks on the beach, drinks by the fireplace; wasn't there a song about that in the 70's. You know drinking songs used to be lusty and bawdy." Josef looked at the tip of his dart giving it a curious stare.
"Josef... if we are going to play darts...you have to stand behind the line." Mick stopped waiting for Josef to step back. Josef laid his dart down on the bar in his den and leaned back on his elbows staring at the dart board with a look of disbelief, this was a game?
"I could sing a few bars, 'If you like... walks on the beach' of course they weren't singing the praises of a certain AO negative. I could rework the lyrics if you like. What are we playing here?" His frowned as if to concentrate on what he and Mick were doing here.
"301, 401, 1201 how much time do you have. You still keep a lute player on staff-how Elizabethan." Mick threw his shot and shook his head as it missed the mark, so much for vampire skills.
"Jacobean actually, I was a child during Elizabethan times. Why do you insist on having the line so far back; I laid off the minstrel because the freshies prefer satellite radio." Josef grabbed the dart noticing how Mick had missed the target. Damn it he would have to get the wall repainted—served Mick right though for insisting they throw from across the room. Still, this was a chance to beat Mick at his own game. He threw the dart, "Bulls eye. I think I like this game!"
"Rework the lyrics all you like, it's the melody that gets stuck in your head, trust me you're playing with fire." Mick shook his head and went to the bar to pour a drink--it was going to be a long night. Every night without Beth was a long night.
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Zandra, can we sleep with Red tonight? The pit-bull was snorting and rolling a mattress laid out on the floor trying to dislodge the butterfly barrettes clipped to her ears. "We made her a necklace of clover but she shook it off." Brother and sister are laughing.
"Sure you can sleep with Red, but you've got to keep her quiet, Mommy's going to have a visitor."
"Zandra…"
"Mommy," The woman in the flimsy transparent nightgown corrects the child. "Mommy means it. Very quiet, or…" She looked down at the child with a warning glare.
"We get a beating," the adolescent laying across a white enamel and brass daybed says with a dull voice… The white ruffled bedding is dingy, decorated with pink princesses, a character popular with girls more than a decade ago.
Zandra looks at her daughter with narrowing eyes, "Or Mommy gets crabby. You two, your daddy is coming back tomorrow night—so be good." Wide eyed the children listen to the irritated slapping sound of Zandra's baby doll slippers retreating down the hall, the sound gradually fading as she descends to the ground floor.
"Ow! You pinched me." The child said as she rubbed her arm glaring at the teenager.
"Ssshh. Listen, or I'll pinch you again. I wasn't kidding about beating—you don't want one. Keep the dog and your kid sister quiet. I'm sneaking out."
"You're supposed to be babysitting, don't leave us." The small voice was filled with panic.”
"You're not really my brother and sister. There are worse things than a beating after my Mom has company."
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Red lifts her massive head—butterfly barrettes now attached to her collar. She heaves herself up and off the mattress, head down, nose to door growling at the same time quivering with fear.
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Lt. Carl Davis parked down the block and spent a moment observing the neighborhood, town house apartments built in the 90’s line on sides of the block. An ordinary neighborhood, modest… cars aren’t trashed but they’re not new either. It’s a crowded and subdued crime scene—the word has already gone out that there were children involved, hard on everybody. The street has been blocked off at both ends to keep the media as far away as possible.
“Carl,” Officer Novak says, “Glad you’re here, Animal Control is ready to leave. Do you want to talk to them before they go?”
“Do we have a dog attack, Novak?” Carl gets out his note pad.
“I don’t think so Carl. There is lots of blood downstairs and the two kids were upstairs. Less blood, but children are smaller. The animal control guys say the dog, a pit bull is docile—they had no problem removing her from the scene.”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to them.” Carl walks over to a modified shop truck—a rolling dog jail, individual kennels on either side. Two techs are clearly shaken up. “Hey, tough night.” They nod, “This is a rough crime scene for the pros, you two are holding up pretty well, considering. What can you tell me about the dog?”
“The dog was strange,” says a slender young woman. She’s hugging herself while her partner a stocky young man stares at the grounds. He looks up nods and adding, “She was glad to see us, crept out from under the bed and came to us with no problem. Just pressed herself up against my leg, the way a dog acts when it’s scared of thunder.”
“Was there any blood on the dog?”
“Not that we observed.”
“We’ll find out what CSI wants to do about the dog and then you can leave. We’ve got counselors available if you need them.” Carl returns to officer Novak. “When animal control leaves send an officer, those two don’t need to face the press right now. What else do we have Novak?”
“The father came home after a trucking run up the coast, he called 911. He said the girlfriend was supposed to be watching the kids. She’s missing.”
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“Beth, do you know Carl Davis?” Talbot called to her from his office. His brief case was open his desk as he sorted through the files he would need in court today.
Not sure where this is going Beth answers cautiously, “Yes,” Carl was a friend, sort of, a contact from her time at Buzzwire and he had worked with Josh. Beth thinks she hadn’t really talked to him since Josh’s funeral.
“More importantly, can you work with him? He’s running the homicide investigation on the two children.” That particular crime had blown through the office like a cold wind stirring thoughts of vengeance and mortality. “You’re the closest thing we have to an investigative expert on crimes involving children. No one wants this one and we need a liaison with the police department.”
“Sure, I’ll do it.” Beth sighs, “I kind of know the territory.” Ben looks up from his desk when he hears the reluctance in her voice.
“They’re interviewing the father in a half hour and thanks… ” Ben looks at his desk and continues going through his files, “I’ll be in court until all day …fill me in when I get back.”
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The father sits in the interrogation room worn out and drained, looking like the ragged shreds of an exploded balloon…
Carl and Beth watch through the observation window.
“…the shared custody thing is a mess…I pay less child support if they live with me but because I’m a trucker I work odd hours…still Mona, my ex-wife and I usually work things out…but this last trip…Mona’s mom is sick and doing some experimental treatment in Mexico…a total crap shoot…and there was no way Mona could take them. My family is in Arizona… I don’t like asking Zandra to watch the kids…
“Who is Zandra, for the record?” The interviewing officer asks.
“Zandra’s my girlfriend.” He rubs his hand across his face, eyes red and hot, tears held back. “God, I fucked up.”
“Why don’t you like Zandra to watch the kids?” The interrogation continues; Carl Davis watches the man’s expression intently.
“She’s wild, …the kind of girlfriend you think is cheating on you…but you don’t care because she’s hot… you know, I come back from a trip and she’s got new sexy underwear… expensive and I didn’t buy it… every nickel I make goes to child support and the mortgage. ” He swallows hard and his eyes fill with tears and his face contracts in pain as he realizes his children are really dead.
“I hear you there,” the officer comments with sympathy more deliberate than real. It sounds forced but the father doesn’t even notice as he keeps on talking.
“I can’t even remember why Mona and I split up,” he shakes his head, trying to clear away the memories “…actually I was paying Zandra’s daughter to babysit… kind of a backup plan.”
“Do you know where she is, the daughter?” The officer sits up and reaches for his note pad. “What’s her name?” He looks up at the father who appears dumbfounded, “I don’t know everyone called her Missy.”
Outside Carl watches the interview, tight lipped and frowning. “We don’t think the father is a suspect. He works for Cal-Allied Trucking and all their rigs are constantly tracked with GPS—and if that isn’t enough each truck has a giant bar code printed on top so satellite pictures can be taken from space. Unless of course there is some conspiracy with the girlfriend… but there was a lot of blood… at least one other body is stashed somewhere… Oh, and good to see you Beth… glad you joined the light.”
“So you have a hunch, Carl?”
“You may be on working for us but you’re the same old Beth. Let’s walk down the hall,” he smiles as he notices Beth’s obstinate expression when she is asked to leave the observation window “…don’t worry I will get you a transcript of the interview.”
“I’ll take that as a complement.” Their conversation goes forward in fits and starts as they negotiate the corridor, detectives, techs and others have crowded into the hall, hoping that the father is the killer, they want an arrest and quick justice.
“I think we’re going to come up empty.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“My guys are going to be busy with the immediate stuff, crime scene evidence, finding the girlfriend’s daughter and so on. Would you look for similar crimes? Look up and down the coast, if the father is involved …we might not find anything here in LA… but since he’s a long distance trucker. What do you think, did he kill his kids?”
“No. He’s rambling on and answering every question.”
Arriving at the end of the hall, Carl holds the door for Beth and follows her. On the other side of the door he stops her with a touch to her arm, “Beth…”
“Yes.”
“The grapevine says you’re dating St. John…be careful.”
“Why, do you disapprove?” Beth says eyebrows arched and chin tilted defiantly, as if it’s a dare. “Talbot did say he was eight different kinds of weird.”
“Only eight? How’d you hear that? I’m just saying that if Mick were a cop, Internal Affairs would have a field day. He’s not as far below the LAPD radar as he thinks and you can’t always count on us to look the other way.”
“Thanks, Carl. If I’m a little defensive I still feel like some people around here blame me for Josh’s death.”
“Only if they were crushing on Josh… C’mon Beth all those reporter’s instincts and you haven’t figured out that Law Enforcement is a gossipy soap opera.”
“This is how you know that ‘threesomes never end well.’”
“No comment. Damn it Beth, play nice. We’re on the same side now.”
“I just had to hear it once for old times’ sake. Thanks, Carl”
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“Hey Mick, this is Beth, I’m working late tonight pulling case files for Carl and Talbot. I’ll call you when I’m done” Beth sets her phone down after leaving a message. She smiles thinking that Mick will be getting up soon. A pleasant thought but research is a different kind of fun. She trusts Carl’s instincts. Right now a lot of resources are committed to this crime, so if she finds some leads quickly while this case has priority…
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Guillermo was pacing on the roof top across from the morgue waiting for Mick drinking occasionally from a closed stainless steel container.
“Hey Guillermo, why did you want to meet me here?”
“It’s a bad night Mick. I got two little kids over there—killed by vampires. I don’t even want to be in the same room, I vamp out with rage.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah shit, it’s too damn easy to get dead at any age without some greedy bastard having you for dinner… Adults can make their own mistakes, be in the wrong place at the wrong time but kids…” His voice trails off as he thinks about the duties facing him across the street.
“There are limits.”
“Yeah, limits, no one has to die because of who we are.” Guillermo swore bitterly, “I don’t know if it’s better or worse but I think this thing is going to pass as a human crime.”
Mick sets his jaw and says tightly. “I’ll look into it, anything else you can tell me?”
I’ll get you the report and when I calm down enough to go back in… I’ll get in touch. Here you’re going need this when you’re done.” Mick frowns, concerned as Guillermo hands him a second container “Some fool with the highest blood alcohol I’ve ever sampled met a palm tree at 90 miles an hour—how they got the car up to 90...”
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Beth taps on Talbot’s door. Talbot looks up from desk littered with paperwork, he looks tired. “You still here?”
With a half smile Beth shrugs, “Sure, why not. I can’t think of anything else I would rather do. Well almost anything.”
“Hmm almost anything,” Ben mutters to himself, imagining Mick St. John showing up to put in his two cents on this case.
“What did you say,” It’s an awkward silence and she thinks, Is he flirting or making an innuendo about Mick, blushing she rushes to say “Carl doesn’t think the father committed the crime, so he asked me look into similar crimes.”
“What do you have?”
“Remember I’m not a profiler, just an investigative reporter. This is a sensational crime the kind keeps the media going for years…so I looked for similar crimes and pulled the files. Keep in mind that this is only California.”
“I have four crimes Sacramento 1978, Los Angeles 1980, San Diego 1992 and San Jose 1999. What makes them remarkable is the father, husband or boyfriend’s story. It’s like that old TV show The Fugitive. He comes home and there is fresh blood everywhere and he confronts either his wife in flagrante or an intruder. In all cases this guy, like our truck driver, is someone whose whereabouts can be verified for up to 48 hours before the murders. The husband calls 911 right away and gives a full statement. The wife or girlfriend’s body is never found. Children are present and sleeping in the house but not harmed in 1980 and in 1992 the children survived with a few scratches and tentative bite marks. In 1999 the wife and their two children are missing but the blood evidence suggests they were killed at the scene. In the last case the husband killed himself after calling 911, even though it seems impossible that he killed them.”
“So basically lots of blood, missing wife, husband with alibi and mysterious intruder. “OK, let’s look at the files. Talbot reaches out to take two files from Beth. I have to admit I don’t like murder scenes with lots of blood and I have to look at the pictures.”
Beth looks at him for a moment before continuing. “I’ve got 1978 and 1980. The State successfully prosecuted Franklin Smith in 1978, Andrew Royce-Givens in 1980. Smith died in prison four years ago.
Talbot speaks noting, “There was an acquittal in the case of James Philipson in 1992, bite-marks matched the ex-wife’s,” he glanced at the pictures in the latter case file only to sharply look away his eyes focused in the distance.
Beth completely engrossed in reading files fails to notice Talbot’s distress. She looked up and noticed the pain of his expression. “Ben,” she asked gently, “How old are you!”
“33, why?
“Your sister, how old is she?”
“29, why are you asking these questions? What does this have to do with the case?”
Beth ignores the question looking at him with sad eyes, “Is your middle name Andrew and your sister’s middle name Marie?”
“Yes.”
“I think I just found your parents.”
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Music: Let the Drummer Kick
Blood speaks. The vampire sense of smell sometimes leaves me feeling that no separation exists between me and the victim. I know too much. Like that sorry bastard Guillermo poured into a to-go cup for me—that guy died feeling invincible. I’ve seen the insides of too many people’s lives. Josef would say I obsess about humanity and I need to focus my attention on something else. Taste aside; experiencing the boredom of someone donating blood in a high school gymnasium can be kind of relaxing.
The blood at the scene is excessive. More than twenty four hours later it’s oppressive like watching violent porn. Blood and sex, this sire is all about seduction. He likes to watch and hear humans bleed to death—he drinks very little of their blood. No wonder it passes as a human crime, the police never calculate that a pint or two is missing. He’s old enough to have worn beaver hats and frock coats, zoot suits and platform shoes although lately he prefers a hip hop styling, clothes over sized but crisply pressed, everything absolutely new like money straight from the mint.
I hear his words, “C’mon baby, do you want what I have, all of it?” Of course she does bling and blood.
I see this newly turned vampire rising from a pool of her own blood. The fine patterns of formerly white lacy lingerie blotchy with drying blood. Giggling she announces “I’m such mess, but I’m so hungry. I must have the munchies.”
“I’ve got something for you upstairs.”
Is this what this sire wants, a vampire whose first memory is drinking children’s blood?
“You don’t have to do this.” Beth and Ben say to each other simultaneously as they stand outside the door to the townhouse.
“Seriously, Ben there is no forgetting, no magic rewind if you go in and remember what happened to your parents.”
Inhaling deeply, Ben holds his breath and exhales. When Beth told him she found his parents he had automatically stated, “My parents live in San Diego.” Then he had angrily asked, “How do you know I was adopted?” Beth gently told him she knew because his sister had gone to Mick St. John, apparently picking his name at random out of the phonebook. Proving once again that fate had an ironic sense of humor; it irked Talbot that St. John had the grace to turn his sister down...
“Beth, would you go back to forgetting, that is, if you could?”
Morgan/Coraline, Coraline/Morgan, Beth thinks, I staked that bitch. “No, there’s just a different kind of fear and the dreams are just as bad. But, Mick he’s there for me and… he understands.”
Ok, so there’s more to that relationship than I thought. “Let’s go in.”
Memories force themselves upon him as he looks across the blood stains which spread across the floor. His mother had been soaked in her own blood, at the time he remembered thinking, “Mommy’s hurt.”
Now Ben remembers her resurrection.
“Ben, listen you have to talk about it—if only because what you remember is evidence!”
Without looking away from the bloodstain on the carpet he says, “I woke up and started to come downstairs and I saw my Mom. In a pool of blood, like that, I thought she was hurt. It must have been a head wound or something that bleeds a lot because she got up. She saw me and started coming up the stairs to get me… I thought it was going to be alright… then I was really scared. Maybe it was the smell of blood… I felt as if every hair on my body was going to be shocked by electricity. …my father came in… and there was a really big fight. ”
Ben and Beth stand in silence until Ben breaks the silence, “I need to see the upstairs.”
“Ok, but let me go first, I’m not the one looking at this from the perspective of my childhood.”
Mick is there at the end of the hallway, eyes silver, mouth partly open, fangs visible, breathing in the smell of blood and murder. Beth sees him as she steps into the hall and he is gone. This is a vampire crime.
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Image "The Boogeyman" used with permission, Copyright all rights reserved by Chris Rahn chris@rahnart.comThis e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it Chris is a young illustrator making his way in the world--don't take money out of his mouth.
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“So are you going to share?” Josef is tempted to kick his friend’s long legs off the coffee table, if only to get his attention. “You call me over. I can already tell you’re in a nasty mood. I get here and find that you’re half drunk and won’t talk. So at least pass the bottle—yes I know it’s a travel cup.”
Josef pauses to inhale the subtle fragrances before taking a sip, “Pity about the car, where did you get this?”
“Guillermo, at the morgue.”
“My friend, I do question your tastes in beverages but this is extraordinary and I might add out of your ordinary price range.”
“Guillermo called me over because he had two kids in the morgue murdered by a newly turned vampire.”
“What, a rogue?”
“No the sire apparently likes this sort of thing. The turning was intense, sexual…”
Josef snorts, “A lot of them are…”
“Josef, it’s not that! Afterwards he takes her upstairs to feed on a couple of kids sleeping in the bedroom.”
“That is an expensive clean-up one where children are involved” Josef remarks seriously, “One that can get you sanctioned.”
“There isn’t any clean-up. It was set up to look like a human crime.” Mick watches his friend calculate and weigh the repercussions of this crime. He knows the outcome; as long as secrecy is preserved vampires don’t judge vampires.
“Well some vamps like that, seduction and hunting. You of all people should know that.”
“What do you mean?”
“C’mon Mick, you and Coraline always drank fresh and Coraline handled her own clean-ups. Who took the last bite?”
Mick’s head jerks up at this last comment to stare at Josef…
Music: Hurt
He tries to get up before Coraline, just before sunset to find the time to sit outside alone and watch the city darken or to read in the dark.
“There you are, Mick.” Her hand drifts across his shoulders in a slow and sensual movement.
“I’m here every night.” He flinches away her touch, trying to deflect Coraline’s demands.
“Come out with me, Mick, you know I like to be seen.” She slides into his lap and pushes back his hair.
“The party always ends up here; you know I’ll be waiting. I’ve got something to read, I don’t want to spend eternity as some dumb Irishman.” He moves the book between them an unsubtle reminder of his resistance.
“I like you to see me. I like it when you watch me.” She pulls the book from his hands and sets it aside and rests her arms around his neck. Coraline inhales and lets the smell of Mick trigger the vampire; a sire intent on claiming her own.
Mick protests, “Watch you flirt with other men.” His eyes silver and he is aroused in spite (or perhaps because) of his resistance,
Coraline leans in to whisper to him, “You know I always come home with you. Besides this isn’t some Freshie party with boring old vamps. This is a Hollywood party, everyone will be so eager…” Continuing to run her fingers through his hair, she leans in to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m glad I married a musician—I don’t think I could stand some crew cut college guy.” He knows that Coraline is referring to who she brought home for “dinner” the last time he resisted going out with her; a king of the world type who had played a season of college football before he was sidelined with a knee injury or so he said. The smell clinging to Mr. Varsity instead spoke of several women who “loved” and supported him.
Isn’t that what Coraline did, loved and supported him?
The party always ended up at her house, vamps, a few cold-eyed Freshies with flexible morals who could look the other way when a fellow human stumbled into the Vampires lair. After a certain point in the evening it doesn’t matter what happens or where it happens. Mick knows he will no longer be able to avoid her and will catch whoever came home with Coraline in a drunken dance, maybe with his hand up her skirt, pawing at her breasts or declaring his undying love. At that moment, Coraline will meet his eyes and bite her victim. When Mick takes his turn the victim will smell like Coraline.
Mr. Varsity had been aggressively successful, finger fucking Coraline, in the process of unzipping his trousers the very moment Coraline sunk her teeth into his neck. Mick had ripped his throat out.
“You’re a good looking man, why don’t you bring someone over to the house tonight.” She says with a coy smile knowing there will be no argument.
“How did you choose your victims, Mick?” Josef won’t let it go.
“I didn’t kill them!” He blurted, protesting, denying… pushing himself up from the chair to stand and sway drunkenly. Defeated he collapses back into his seat.
“Freshie math is simple Mick. One vamp, one pint, three or four vamps and the freshie is dead depending on the size of the victim. How many vamps did Coraline support, who ate when you two were finished?”
Mick’s phone begins to ring, neglected on the table.
Josef smirks, “How many times have you ignored Beth’s calls tonight?” When the pounding on the door begins, Josef smiles with satisfaction, “You’re so busted.”
“Mick, I know you’re in there—open up.”
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“Josef, sit down.” Beth cuts short his protest that he was just leaving and pulls two files out of her shoulder bag to thrusts them at Josef. “Mick, here are the other two.” Reaching up from his seat on the couch he slowly takes the files. He flips them open; avoiding Beth’s looks and keeps his eyes focused on the files.
“You have a vampire serial killer, ‘78,’ ’80,’ ’92” and ’98,’” Beth ticks off each date on a finger. “The violence escalates with each crime. These are only the crimes in California and according to you two, vamps move around a lot. What am I going to find when I start looking in other states?”
Josef sets the files on the coffee table unopened. “Beth, you work for the district attorney’s office. I don’t know why you think I should be responsible; besides what makes you think these other crimes were committed by vampires.”
“Because Ben Talbot was there in 1980, he watched his mother get up from a pool of blood that the crime scene techs estimated to be at least six pints. She bled out and then she attacked her own son.”
“Josef,” Mick says tiredly, “Look at the files, see how much blood was involved. I was there, I could see it—this sire likes to watch and listen to humans as they bleed to death. It’s not about food and it’s about seduction and power. If you don’t think this is serious we can visit morgue and Guillermo can show you the kids’ bodies. Do you want to know first hand how a couple of kids died? If you do go visit Guillermo, I’d go easy… he’s taking this pretty hard. He’d stake you for as a heartless bastard in half a second.”
Beth looks ready for a fight, “Innocent men are being convicted and have killed themselves because of…” she stops herself before she finishes the sentence.
Josef coughs; suppressing the enjoyment he gets watching an angry and impassioned Beth and opens the files. Quickly shuffling through the file he lays out the crime scene photos. These turnings were all messy; his eyes flash silver as he thinks how much he hates messy vampire arrogance. “So…yes, this is excessive… and potentially dangerous to the community if, as you suggest, the actions of this sire are becoming more extravagant and attracting attention.”
Beth looks ready to say more when Mick reaches forward and puts a hand on her arm. He says quietly, “Where do we go from here? Do you have any information that will help?” Beth wonders why Mick seems barely engaged in the conversation especially since she and Josef are on the verge of yelling at each other, he’s usually more protective.
“The only person unaccounted for in the most recent crime is Zandra Carpenter’s fourteen year old daughter who was supposed to babysitting the two children.”
Beth continued on, “You can keep the files for now; I have Talbot’s permission to leave them with you, it’s a matter of public record. The State will not be interested in overturning two convictions, the mistrial in 1992 was an embarrassment and in 1998 the father committed suicide.”
“Yeah,” Mick muses, “it was the daughter’s room where the two kids were sleeping, I could probably find her.”
Josef watches Mick and Beth with slightly narrowed eyes, if Mick has a sense of purpose he is probably alright for now. “Mick, do what you have to… and Beth let me know if I can help.” Josef and Beth’s eyes meet and she quickly looks away. Josef knows that she’s heard his meaning. Tell me if this gets too dirty for Mick to live with himself. “I will see myself out.”
Making no move to get up, Mick says abruptly, “Goodnight, Beth,” adding “Josef, will you see Beth to her car?”
“Certainly, allow me,” Josef takes her arm in a manner that doesn’t allow argument and he steers her toward the door.
Beth looks back with worry on her face and sees him lost in his own thoughts, “Goodnight, Mick.” He doesn’t hear her.
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As they exit the elevator, Beth pivots and demands, “Josef, what was that about?”
“Leave him alone, Beth, you can’t fix everything.” Josef snickers, “I don’t think you could get a coherent thought out of Mick tonight.”
“I’m not trying to fix Mick!”
“I’m not saying you are trying to fix him, you’re trying to apply human justice to a vampire crime. You can’t change what we are.”
“That’s bullshit, Josef; you don’t hunt people or children for fun!”
“No I don’t, I prefer a nine page non-disclosure agreement that outlines all the ways you could accidentally die as a Freshie, including disclosing the non-disclosure agreement. That manner of death will not be accidental and I make that clear. Lots of vamps don’t even care about what happened to those children. Mick does… he’ll do the right thing… so leave him alone to work it out.”
Give him time to sober up, Josef thinks as he watches as Beth gets into her car and drive away. I must really see if Guillermo has more of that blood; maybe if I act properly appalled…
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I never want to see this place again but I have to find out what I can about the daughter, Missy. They were here again, the sire and his offspring! What did they want… to pick up some clothes and… Damn it, they’re hunting the girl.
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I swing by the bus station… there’s Leo, checking out the runaways… good thing he is predictable, I’ll beat up the little slime-ball later for stalking the runaways later… but tonight I need him.
“Leo, get in the car.” Mick says as he pulls up along side the disreputable vamp. “I need you, so don’t make me chase you.” His voice is deadly and Leo freezes and gives him a nervous look.
“What? You need me?” Leo is flattered by Mick’s attention.
“I’ve got two vamps hunting a runaway, her parent’s hired me to find her,” Mick lies, knowing that Leo’s romantic and sentimental justifications about drinking children’s blood will persuade him to help. “There’s her backpack and a journal, see what you can find and smell.”
Mick drives with the top down, alert for any smell of the girl. Leo asks some of the runaways about Missy. This isn’t good, Mick thinks, he’s on a first name basis with too many of these kids. He’s only a hairs breath away from pimping them for blood. Leo’s head jerks, “She’s been here at the all night market.” I can smell the sire and his more than willing pupil. Mick circles the block and stops in a quiet driveway.
“In the trunk Leo, you don’t need to see this.” Leo hesitates. “If I go after you it will be worse.” Leo nods, he’s shaking scared of the trunk, scared of running but he gets in willingly. Mick stakes him, “Just so you don’t run off.” He looks down at the paralyzed Leo who stares back with stunned unblinking eyes. Mick slams the trunk shut.
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Mick sees them a few hundred yards away, three kids sitting on a picnic table in the dark park sharing a 40 oz. beer.
“P911,” one of the teens notices Zandra approaching, “Missy, your mom’s found you and she’s brought her scary new boyfriend.”
“Shit,” Missy swivels around and sees Zandra standing in the light of a street lamp. Pimp Daddy (Did she ever learn his name?) is watching from the car.
“Anyone ever tell you your mom, she is hot?” One of the boys says as jumps off the picnic table grabbing the 40 oz.
“Hot or not, we got to go.” Laughing they run off, jerking Mick’s attention with them. Prey!” Zandra is only focused on her daughter and walks toward her slowly.
“Missy, I worry about you when you run off.”
“It took you 3 days to come find me… you couldn’t be too worried. Is it time to do the laundry or maybe trucker dad wants me to baby-sit again, so what… so you can take my money again? You’re a crappy mom.”
Zandra twitches, this isn’t happening the way he wants it to happen… “Make up with your daughter she needs you.” He wants to see a cozy mother/daughter reunion, love and kisses, a hallmark moment… the seductiveness of a child feeling everything will be alright.
“Go away, I don’t need you.”
“But sweetheart, I need you, we’re not a family if you don’t come home.”
Mick is suddenly there between them. “Hey hey, Zandra, whoa, you don’t want to do this.” Zandra hisses, eyes milky white and launches herself at her daughter. Biting, clawing with the desperate speed and strength of a hungry newly turned vampire. Horrified, Missy stumbles off in the background.
“That was your daughter,” Mick snarls in her ear, he has her arms locked behind her. Zandra has to choose between the pain of dislocating her shoulders or continuing to struggle. “Your baby, the one you held your arms when she was an infant.” Zandra rips loose, one arm dangling. Mick elbows her across the face and whips back to grab her head, to snap her neck and Zandra crumbles to the ground.
The sound of ironic applause from an audience of one, “I like this game. It’s gotten rather one sided over the years. The girl would never have stood a chance without you,” Pimp Daddy drawls in an incongruously posh English accent, “and the mother was already getting tiresome. I’ll leave her in your chivalrous hands.” Before Mick can growl the sire is gone.
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“I don’t know why you want me to do this, Mick,” Leo whines. “We leave each other alone, don’t you know that?” He’s begging for his own future. Leave me alone Mick, I don’t hurt anyone… really I don’t
“Do it for no other reason because her sire has abandoned her and she likes the taste of children’s blood.” Mick says wearily, “besides if I start cutting off heads, I’m not going to stop at one. Do it and you get to live.”
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“Don’t tell me Mick St. John is calling for a clean-up.”
Mick doesn’t react, just reports the location in a dull voice, “Leo is baby-sitting the body. Read him the standard non-disclosure agreement, and if he disappears I’m still in the neighborhood. Oh, I’m going to need the car detailed… no, tomorrow is soon enough.”
The sky is lightening as Mick drives home on streets where the only humans still out are for sale. It’s only a matter of time before the police track down Missy. He hopes she has a good alibi and if not, he trusts that Beth and Talbot can steer the investigation in the right direction.
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The sky is dark under a new moon. Light fog has settled in along the coast, held in place between the west wind and warm inland air. Beth drives slowly up the coast looking for his car at the turnouts and beach access roads. Mick didn’t call and cancel their date. He didn’t pick up the phone or return her calls either. She nearly misses the Mercedes as the fog reflects the glare of the headlights.
Beth grumbles as she reaches for the flashlight in the glove box, “Mick St. John, if I fall on my ass getting down to the beach, I’m going to be pissed.” Through the windshield she sees a fire on the beach and tells herself, I’m not going to worry until I get there.
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Music: Trouble
The fire is not nearly big enough and sometimes even the sun feels like it is too small to shine on all the crimes of my kind. Mick stands back watching the fire burn and feeling the uncomfortable heat on his face and hands.
“Mick St. John, if you’re planning on throwing yourself on the fire, I’m going to be annoyed!” Beth yells across the fire.
Startling, Mick realizes his thoughts had been miles away and he hadn’t heard Beth approach when suddenly he sees her facing him across the fire. His eyes flash silver in the fire light and Beth inhales sharply. The space between them looms large and then contracts but it’s just a trick of the light.
“No, I’m too big of coward,” he says with a broken smile and sad human eyes, “I can’t even return your calls and I make you chase me out here.”
Gritting her teeth Beth negotiates a way around the fire and reaches out… Even the fabric of his coat is hot. “I’ll only say this once; I’m not going to have this fight again,” Beth shrugs as he looks at her, then drops his eyes unable to meet hers, “at least I’m only going to say it once tonight. You have to stop hating what you are.”
“I don’t hate myself Beth,” Mick struggles to keep what little composure he has, “I could try and go forward and live a good life but I hate us. I hate vampires when we ruin lives and justify it without a cause.” He looks past the fire and stares into the fog. He runs hand through his hair in frustration and takes another quick glance at Beth, still unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t even know the name of the vampire behind these… these… family crimes… but he enjoyed it, when I stopped his offspring from killing her own daughter… he was glad I did. He said it made the game more fun and that now I’m part of his game.” Mick holds his hands helplessly in front of him, looking from one hand to the other he says, “He didn’t care about the woman he turned and abandoned her without a second thought.”
Mick lapses into pained silence and continues to stare into the darkness. “Coraline and I played the same game… seduction and then hunting. I didn’t want to see it… but we did.” His conversation with Josef replays slowly in his mind… Who took the last bite?
“So how is this, not hating yourself? You asked me last time we were at the beach if remembering more about how I still felt about Coraline taking me… now that I knew more. I said it was a lot to process… isn’t it the same for you? Bad things don’t go away Mick… we just get better at looking them in the eye. Come away from the fire. Sit with me… At least one of us was prepared for a date… I even brought us a blanket.”
Mick looks at strangely at Beth, weighing her words. How is it when he can’t find forgiveness for himself he finds acceptance from her… the idea is foreign… but he loves her to much not to believe the acceptance… at least a little.
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Dry inland air has pushed the fog away leaving the stars above them; the fire has burned down to glowing embers. Beth is stretches out on top of Mick, his coat a cover for both of them. Struggling against their rumpled clothes Beth scootches up to kiss him again, brushing his lips with hers, pulling on his upper lip, his lower lip until his jaw relaxes and she slips her tongue inside.
“Woman,” he mumbles against her lips as Beth allows a sliver of space to hang between their lips “do you intend to cause me pain.” Sliding his hands out from under shirt to rest on the curve of her bottom, he rocks his hips up.
“That entirely depends on you.” Beth says, pushing back against him with a wiggle and stealing another kiss.
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The stars spin above them as the pale constellations slip below the western horizon.
“We’ll find him Mick.” Beth says, as she rests in his arms and watches the sky above them.
“We?” Mick lifts his head and turns his head to look at her, eyebrows raised and a questioning look on his face.
“You and me… and Talbot.”
“Talbot, does he know?”
“No, I don’t think so… but he knows there’s a serial killer out there… and the damage is personal, his father is in prison, his mother… Her voice trails off as Mick starts to shift his attentions back o the stars above. “C'mon Mick, you're not alone here." Beth pushes a stray tendril away from his face and gives him a soft smile.
“Beth, I know… but.” The last word slips away unspoken.
AFTERWORD
Caitlin Talbot is annoyed and sarcastic. She needles her brother as only a sibling can, as she slides into the passenger seat of his car. “So Ben, what’s with this 6AM wake-up? You call me last night and tell me you need to see me first thing on a Sunday morning. Are we going to early mass or will we miss visiting hours at San Quentin?”
“Yes.” Ben pulls away from the curb.
“Yes, we’re going to church or yes this is some law and order field trip? You’re not still mad at me about contacting that private investigator, Mick St. John. C’mon Ben what’s this about?”
Every time Ben has tried to talk to Caitlin about what he knows about their parents, words fail him. He wants to protect her so she never knows what happened… but he has contacted their father. Even though the two of them avoid the topic of what Caitlin knows or remembers… It’s not enough to look across the rift of time… Ben knows their father has to see them.
“It turns out I was the right kind of lawyer.”
“Now you’re being cryptic, what do you mean?” She says irritated, folding her arms across her chest.
“I’ve found our father. It is visiting day at San Quentin, twenty eight years ago he was wrongly convicted of murdering our mother.”
Caitlin sits in stunned silence. All of her fantasies about her real parents have shattered like glass dropping, evaporated like smoke… she looks at her brother, eyes wide.
Ben offers, “If you don’t want to go… I can take you back home.”
“Bennie,” she uses her childhood name for him and pauses while she figures things out. “We’ve always been in this together… You can remember what happened, can’t you?” She looks at her brother, worried, disturbed by this new insight.
“Some… you know how I’ve never liked blood… I still don’t want to talk about it, especially with you.” In a second’s glance she can tell he is begging her not to ask for details. It can wait… she thinks, but asks another question anyway.
“Would you have told me any of this, if you thought our father was guilty?”
“No.” he says flatly.
Author: Mxwwmickd
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