Circus of the Damned - Laurell K. Hamilton [87]
“But how did the vampires find out that they had dying wills?”
“Is this a trick question, Dolph? Someone told them.”
“I know that,” he said. He sounded disgusted.
I was missing something. “What do you want from me, Dolph?”
“I’ve questioned everyone, and I’d swear they were all telling the truth. Could someone have been giving the information and not remember?”
“You mean could the vampire have played mind games, so that the traitor wouldn’t know afterwards?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Sure,” I said.
“Could you tell which one the vampire got to if you were here?”
I glanced at my boss’s face. If I missed another night during our busiest season, he might fire me. There were days when I didn’t think I’d care. This wasn’t one of them. “Look for memory losses; hours, or even entire nights.”
“Anything else?”
“If someone has been feeding info to the vampires, they may not remember it, but a good hypnotist will be able to raise the memory.”
“The lawyer is screaming about rights and warrants. We’ve only got a warrant for the files, not for their minds.”
“Ask him if he wants to be responsible for tonight’s murder victim, one of his own clients.”
“She; the lawyer’s a woman,” he said.
How embarrassing and how sexist of me. “Ask her if she’s willing to explain to her client’s family why she obstructed your investigation.”
“The clients won’t know unless we let it out,” he said.
“That’s true,” I said.
“Why, that would be blackmail, Ms. Blake.”
“Isn’t it, though?” I said.
“You had to be a cop in a past life,” he said. “You’re too devious not to be.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Any hypnotists you’d recommend?”
“Alvin Thormund. Wait a sec and I’ll get his number for you.” I got out my thin business card holder. I tried only to keep cards I wanted to refer to from time to time. We’d used Alvin for several cases of vampire victims with amnesia. I gave Dolph the number.
“Thanks, Anita.”
“Let me know what you find out. I might be able to identify the vampire involved.”
“You want to be there when we put them under?”
I glanced at Bert. His face was still relaxed, pleasant. Bert at his most dangerous.
“I don’t think so. Just make a recording of the session. If I need to, I’ll listen to it later.”
“Later may mean another body,” he said. “Your boss giving you trouble again?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“You want me to talk to him?” Dolph asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“He being a real bastard about it?”
“The usual.”
“Okay, I’ll call this Thormund and record the sessions. I’ll let you know if we find out anything.”
“Beep me.”
“You got it.” He hung up. I didn’t bother to say good-bye. Dolph never did.
I handed the phone back to Bert. He hung it up still staring at me with his pleasant, threatening eyes. “You have to go out for the police tonight?”
“No.”
“How did we merit this honor?”
“Cut the sarcasm, Bert.” I turned to Larry. “You ready to go, kid?”
“How old are you?” he asked.
Bert grinned.
“What difference does it make?” I asked.
“Just answer the question, okay?”
I shrugged. “Twenty-four.”
“You’re only four years older than me. Don’t call me kid.”
I had to smile. “Deal, but we better be going. We have dead to raise, money to make.” I glanced at Bert.
He was leaning back in his chair, blunt-fingered hands clasped over his belly. He was grinning.
I wanted to wipe the grin off his face with a fist. I resisted the urge. Who says I have no self-control?
33
IT WAS AN HOUR before dawn. When all the Whos down in Whoville were asnooze in their beds without care. Sorry, wrong book. If I get to stay awake until dawn, I get just a tad slaphappy. I’d been up all night teaching Larry how to be a good, law-abiding animator. I wasn’t sure Bert would appreciate the last, but I knew I would.
The cemetery was small. A family plot with pretensions. A narrow two-lane road rounded a hill, and suddenly there it was, a swathe of gravel beside the road. You had seconds to decide to turn in, that this was it. Tombstones climbed up the hill. The angle was so steep, it looked like the coffins should have