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“That depends on how cooperative you are,” I said.

“What Marshal Blake means, is if we get enough information from you, there won’t be a need to trouble the head of the Church of Eternal Life.” Zerbrowski was still smiling and pleasant. I guess I was bad cop for the day. That worked for me.

“I know what she meant,” the vampire said. He moved to one side of the open door and was careful to keep his hands where we could see them. Jack Benchely, human, had a record. Minor stuff. A few drunk and disorderlies, an assault charge that started out as a domestic disturbance call. Nothing too serious, and all of it involving too many drinks and not enough common sense.

When we were inside, he shut the door and went to the couch. From a coffee table that had almost as much crap on it as the backseat of Zerbrowski’s car, he fished out a cigarette and a lighter. He lit up without asking if we minded. How rude.

There were no other chairs in the room, so we stayed standing. Again, rude. Though the place was so messy that I wasn’t sure I’d have taken a seat if it had been offered. There was so much clutter that you expected it to smell stale, but it didn’t. It did smell like the inside of an ashtray, but that’s not the same thing as dirty. I’ve been in houses that looked spotless, but still reeked of cigarettes. Being a nonsmoker, my nose isn’t dulled to it.

He took in a big drag on the cig and made the tip glow bright. He let the smoke trickle out through his nose and the corners of his mouth. “What do you want to know?”

“Why’d you leave the Sapphire early last night?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It was after eleven. I don’t call that early.”

“Okay, why’d you leave when you did?”

He looked up at me, eyes narrowed as smoke oozed past them. “It was boring. The same girls, same acts.” He shrugged. “I swear that strippers were more fun when I could drink.”

“I bet,” I said.

Zerbrowski said, “What time did you leave exactly?”

Benchely answered. We asked the usual questions. What time? Why? With whom? Was there anyone in the parking lot that could verify that he got in his truck and didn’t linger in the parking lot?

“Linger,” Benchely said, and he laughed. Laughed hard enough to flash fangs. The fangs were as yellowed from nicotine as the rest of his teeth. “I didn’t linger, officer. I just left.”

I debated on whether I could tell him to put out his cigarette in his own house, and if he’d do it if I asked. If I ordered him and he didn’t, we’d look weak. If I grabbed the cig and smushed it out, I’d be a bully. I tried to hold my breath and hoped he’d finish it soon.

He took another healthy pull on the cig and spoke with the smoke coming out of his mouth. “What did I miss? One of the other vamps get out of hand with a dancer? One of the other upstanding church members trying to frame me for it?”

“Something like that,” I said softly.

He fished an ashtray out of the mess. It was an older one, pale green ceramic, with upturned sides and a tray of cig holders in the middle, like dull teeth. He stubbed out his cig and didn’t try to hide that he was angry. Or maybe five years dead wasn’t enough time to learn to hide that well. Maybe.

“Hell, it was Charles, wasn’t it?”

I shrugged. Zerbrowski smiled. We hadn’t said yes, we hadn’t said no. Noncomittal, that was us.

“He’s a member of their damn club, did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t volunteer it,” I said.

“I’ll bet he didn’t. Damned hypocrites, all of them.” He ran his hands through his hair, made the thickness of it stand up even more. “Did he tell you that he’s the one that recruited me for the damn church?”

I fought the urge to share a glance with Zerbrowski. “He didn’t mention that,” Zerbrowski said.

“I’d tried to quit drinking. I tried just quitting, twelve steps, you name it, I tried it. Nothing worked. I’d lost two wives, more jobs than I could count. I’ve got a son who’s nearly twelve. There’s a court order against me seeing him. Isn’t that a hell of a thing, my own son?”