Death of a Vampire (Stanley Hastings Mystery, A Short Story) Page 2
It’s important to make the light on Broadway. It’s a two-way divided street. If you’re in the intersection when the light changes, you can turn left. If you’re not in the intersection, you have to wait for the light to change twice. Once to green on Broadway to let you go, then to green on the cross street to let you complete the turn. Miss a turn like that on a tailing job and you’re dead.
We made it, but just. My cab broke the plain of the crosswalk somewhere between the last split second of the yellow and the first split second of the red.
The vampire didn’t turn left onto 108th Street. Instead, his cab made a u-turn heading back up Broadway. That was okay, because the light at 109th and Broadway was red, so he couldn’t get away and there was time to catch up.
But the maneuver meant he’d probably spotted his tail.
He had.
The vampire hopped out of his cab, darted across Broadway, and hailed another cab that had just turned downtown off 109th. When the light changed, he was gone, leaving his two tails caught at the light, snarled in uptown traffic, without a prayer of ever catching up.
DEBBIE COULDN’T believe it. “You lost him again!”
“Yes, I did. But it wasn’t my fault.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious. I don’t think he ever spotted me. I think he spotted the other guy.”
“What other guy?”
“The other guy tailing him.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I know how you feel. I couldn’t believe it, either. I feel like a PI caught in a shaggy vampire story. Morris hailed a cab. The guy hailed a cab and followed him. Morris spotted him and ditched him. Since I was in the third cab, there wasn’t much I could do.”
“You’re not making this up?”
“If I were making it up, it would sound much better. It’s the truth, so it sounds like hell.”
“This other guy. What was he like?”
“Medium height. Stocky. Maybe forty-five to fifty. Thick black hair, a little gray. Heavy beard stubble.”
She exhaled sharply. “Dad!”
“The gentleman is your father?”
“Damn it!”
“I take it he doesn’t approve of your vampire.”
“He doesn’t know he’s a vampire.”
“What does he think he is?”
“A boy.”
I nodded knowingly. “I see.”
“Hey, don’t get chummy with me. You’re not my pal.”
“I understand. I’m your employee. Tell me, how does it work? I know when I lose the vampire, I don’t get paid. What happens when your father loses him?”
She said nothing, just glared.
“Anyway, the job is off. There’s no way to do it with Daddy involved.”
“I’ll take care of him. We’ll have a little talk.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“It will.”
“I’d like to believe that.”
“Hey, I’ll do my job. You just do yours.”
I cocked an eye ironically. “You mean you’re giving me another chance.”
“You say it’s Daddy’s fault. I guess I have to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’m thrilled. What’s the deal this time?”
“Same thing. I’ve got a date with Morris.”
“At the end of which he’ll be dropping you off at your dorm?”
“That’s right.”
“But he won’t be going up to your room.”
“No.”
“And you’ve never been to his.”
“What’s your point?”
“I’m just trying to define the relationship.”
“What’s the matter? I’m not promiscuous enough for you?”
“Don’t be dumb. I’ve never known anyone who was dating a vampire before. Naturally, I’m a little curious. If you don’t go to each other’s rooms, what do you do? Just hang out in the park and suck each other’s blood.”
“You wanna check my neck?” she said sarcastically.
“Not necessarily.”
“Go on. Take a look.”
She was wearing a black turtleneck. She pulled it over her head, which gave me a clear view of her neck. Among other things. She was wearing a pushup bra, and it was doing its work. All in all, she was one attractive goth.
The door flew open and a blur of heavy stubble rushed in.
Talk about bad timing! You could count on the fingers of no hands how often young girls show up at my office and take their shirts off. It no sooner happens than her father bursts in to kill me.
It occurred to me maybe they were pulling a badger game. Right before it occurred to me my paranoia had reached absurd limits. Right before I bounced off the file cabinet and slammed into the floor.
“Daddy!” Debbie screamed.
I couldn’t see her, but I hoped like hell she was pulling on her shirt. I sprang to my feet, grabbed a folding chair, did my best impression of a lion tamer.
“Don’t be a jerk,” I said. “She’s just trying to prove he didn’t bite her.”
That caught him up short. His mouth fell open. He turned to his daughter. “What’s he talking about?”
She shot me a look. “Blabbermouth!”
Daddy had forgotten I was there. “Debbie, sweetie, what’s this all about?”
She told him. More or less. He showed all the skepticism you would expect, peppered with a dose of overprotective dad, though what could be considered overprotective under the circumstances, I’m not sure.
The remarkable thing is, she got him out of there. Her powers of persuasion were considerable. She’d make a fine lawyer if she ever got a chance. The way she showed Daddy the door was impressive indeed.
The minute he was out, however, she broke just like a little girl. “Oh, my God! This is awful! This is just awful!”
I figured her next segue would be how it was all my fault. I wasn’t up for that again.
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “It’s great.”
She gave me the classic goth-dealing-with-a-moron look. If you haven’t had it, trust me, you don’t want it. It’ll stay with you. “In what way is this great?”
“I wasn’t getting anywhere, and I wasn’t about to. The whole problem was, my hands were tied because you didn’t want the vampire to know you were investigating him.”
“So?”
“You’re not investigating him.” I smiled, spread my hands. “Daddy is.”
I CAUGHT up with the vampire that night as he was hailing his cab. The goth must have worked her magic, because Daddy was nowhere around.
I sidled up to the vampire, said, “Wanna share a cab?”
He didn’t sink his teeth into my throat. I took that as a good sign. On the other hand, he didn’t seem pleased to see me. And not in the ritual Sergeant MacAullif way. The guy was pissed. “Who the hell are you?” he said.
He had a Brooklyn accent. The goth hadn’t mentioned that. Of course, I hadn’t asked. My interrogation techniques are a little suspect. Just ask Alice.
“I don’t wanna give you a hard time. Believe it or not, I was young once too. You’re dating the guy’s daughter, and he’s less than thrilled. He wants to know the score. I could tell him myself, but that’s not what he wants. So why don’t you cut me a break.”
“Her father hired you?”
“Did I say that? I don’t recall saying that. I would certainly be in a position to deny saying that if you ever made the claim. But the gentleman is concerned with whether or not you’re a vampire.”
“Oh,” he said with disgust. “Debbie ratted me out.”
“You ratted yourself out. You look like a vampire. You act like a vampire. Granted, you don’t dress like a vampire. But you walk around like the Prince of Darkness. It’s a little hard to miss. What’s your story?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Fine,” he said. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you what you wanna know. W
hen I’m done, you go about your business, I’ll get in a cab and go about mine. You won’t try to follow me, find out where I live, stake out my apartment, tap my phone.”
“Done.”
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
“Are you a vampire?”
He grimaced. “That’s not the point.”
“It may not be the point, but it’s what I wanna know.”
“The point is not whether I’m a vampire; the point is whether you believe I am. Debbie does. That’s enough for her, and it’s enough for me. If it’s not enough for her father, that’s tough. That’s the way it is.”
“Our deal was you’d answer my questions.”
“I’m answering your questions. You may not like the answers, but that’s not our deal.”
“Do you have an apartment, or do you sleep all day in the ground covered with a layer of dirt?”
“That’s just the type of ridicule I could expect.”
“From a mere mortal?” I asked impishly.
He smiled. “You’re not helping yourself.”
“Maybe not. I’d like just one denial I can take to the bank.”
“Fine,” he said. “Ask me if I mean Debbie any harm.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“Yeah, but isn’t that what this is all about? Does her old man really give a damn who or what I am, or is he concerned for his daughter’s safety? If it’s the first thing, he’s an idiot, and I can’t help him. If it’s the second thing, he should be reassured.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a student.”
“At Columbia?”
“Yeah.” He cocked his head at me. “What do you do?”
That question always throws me. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I always think of myself as an aspiring actor/writer. At my age, that’s tough to claim. “I’m a private investigator,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “Are you a real private investigator, or are you just pretending to be one?”
My mouth fell open. He nailed me. Put his finger right on the inner conflict that’s haunted me most of my adult life.
He smiled at my confusion. “There you are. That’s just it. Am I a vampire, or do I just pretend to be? I am what you want me to be. To Debbie I am. To you, maybe I’m not. But who gets hurt?”
I frowned.
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a stick of wood. One end was fashioned to a point.
“You know what this is? This is death. I keep it close to my heart, to remind me death is near.” He grinned. “You wanna tell that to her father? He won’t be pleased. And who does it threaten? Debbie or me?”
He stuck the wooden stake back in his pocket. “Life’s an illusion. Yours, mine, Debbie’s. Even her old man. Believe what you want to believe. I can’t help what you think.”
The light changed. Traffic streamed by.
“Ah, here’s a cab.” He raised his arm, flagged it down. “Remember our deal,” he said.
He hopped in the cab and drove off.
I remembered our deal.
I let him go.
NEEDLESS TO say, Debbie felt I’d failed.
“You didn’t find out where he lives. You didn’t find out where he goes during the daytime. Which is the whole point. If he’s a vampire, he can’t exist in sunlight. If he can, he’s not a vampire. It’s that simple. Don’t you get it?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“You’re gonna give me advice?”
“I suppose.”
“You gonna charge me for it?”
“You’re going to make a good lawyer.”
“That’s your advice?”
“That’s an observation.”
“I don’t need your approval.”
“Yeah, I know. Look. There’s no such thing as vampires. But if you wanna play the game, this is not a bad guy to play with. Is he a vampire? No, he’s not. I can’t prove it, but I’ll bet the ranch on it. It doesn’t matter. You’re young. This is a passing fancy.”
“Just a phase I’m going through,” she said sarcastically.
“I didn’t say that. But, frankly, I don’t see you in a courtroom in your kabuki face.”
She pouted, then switched gears. “All right, look. He’s taking me out again tonight.”
I put up my hand, shook my head. “No. I’m done. That’s it. You don’t owe me anything. We’re all square. Let’s leave it at that.”
She looked betrayed. “But...”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’ve done all I can. Probably more than I should. Anyway, I got work to do.”
I snapped my briefcase shut and went out the door.
I wasn’t worried about leaving her alone in my office. If she could find anything there worth stealing, she was welcome to it.
SHE WAS back the next morning. I almost didn’t recognize her without her makeup. It was a vast improvement. She looked like any other college girl.
Except for the fact she was hysterical.
I tried to calm her down, find out what was the matter.
Turned out it was simple.
“He didn’t show up!”
Ah, youth.
I smiled reassuringly. “You’re not the first girl in the world ever got stood up.”
She shook her head. Practically stamped her foot. “No! He’s not like that. He wouldn’t do that. If he didn’t show up, something is wrong!”
“Did you check up on him?”
“How could I check up on him? You didn’t give me his address. You just assured me everything was all right. Well, guess what. Turns out you were wrong.”
“I understand. You’re upset. You feel helpless. But I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“You’re sure? Like you were sure everything was okay. Why won’t anyone pay attention to me? Why won’t anyone listen?”
And there she was, the girl in the horror movie, pleading for help. Which is what brought me to MacAullif’s office. That and a sense of obligation and a desire to pass the buck. In the movies, the people pleading for help are the good guys, and the people not listening are the jerks. Not that I wished the role of jerk on MacAullif. I just didn’t want it on me. I talked MacAullif into running a trace on the guy, and went out on my rounds.
HE GOT back to me later that afternoon. I was in Queens interviewing a woman who’d fallen on a City bus when the office beeped me, told me MacAullif wanted me to call. That couldn’t be good.
It wasn’t.
“A corpse matching your description turned up yesterday morning.”
“Yesterday? How come you’re just getting to me now?”
“You gave me Morris Feldman. This guy’s Michael Fletcher. Same initials, so I ran it down. You gonna be grateful for that, or you gonna be pissed off I didn’t pick up on it sooner, seeing as how I have no workload for the NYPD.”
“Yesterday morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Where was the body?”
“Riverside Park at 114th. Just off the upper path, buried in a shallow grave.”
“What do you mean by shallow grave?”
“That’s the way it was described to me. I didn’t happen to see it. The guy was at the morgue by the time I got the lead.”
“How’d he die?”
“Multiple stab wounds. From a sharp object, most likely a butcher knife.”
“What about the time of death?”
“About twelve hours before he was found.”
I sucked in my breath. “Right after I saw him.”
“You saw him?”
“Yeah.”
“You were the last person to see him alive?”
“Aside from the killer.”
MacAullif let that lie there just long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable. “Wanna run down to the morgue and see if it’s him?”
IT WAS.
The guy on the marble slab looked exactly like the vampire I’d met. With perhaps a few pints less blood.
“You did the autopsy on this one?” MacAullif asked.
“Yeah.”
“Can you give me the cause of death?”
“You want me to talk in front of him?”
“Relax. He’s on our side. What killed him?”
“Multiple stab wounds in the torso. Some sharp object, probably a butcher knife.”
“Which one killed him?”
“The one in the heart,” he shrugged. “He might have died from the one in the lung. But the one in the heart wasn’t postmortem because it was still pumping blood. Was it the last wound? I don’t know. Was it a mortal wound? Yes, it was. What ‘killed him’”—he made quotation marks around the word with his fingers—“is splitting hairs. You sure this guy’s not a lawyer?”
“Any contributing cause of death?” I said.
“Funny you should ask.”
“Why? Was he drugged?”
He shook his head. “Tox screen was clean. But when you mention contributing cause of death...”
“Yeah?”
“He was also stabbed with a sharp piece of wood. I didn’t see it at first. Found it in his clothes. It was in the wound and had fallen out.”
“The wound?”
“The wound in his heart.”
“Are you saying a wooden stake caused his death?”
“No. He was stabbed in the heart with a butcher knife, just like all the other wounds. The killer stuck the stake in his heart afterward.”
“You mean he was dead?”
“He was probably still alive. There was a lot of blood on the wood. But he died shortly thereafter. I figure the heart pumping blood pushed the wood out of the wound. Just before he died. We’re not talking a long time here. A few seconds, maybe.”
I walked out as if in a fog. MacAullif had to take my arm, guide me to the car.
“Are you all right.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a shock, seeing ’em cut up like that.”
“I’ve been in a morgue before.”
“Don’t get hung up on the stake. There’s more important things here. Like who killed him, for instance.”
“I know who killed him.”
“Oh?”
“It was her father. He couldn’t stand him messing around with his little girl.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure. If I was her father, I might have killed him myself.”