Code 61 - Donald Harstad [57]
He thought for a moment. “Agreed, but I can publish my data afterward? I need to do that.”
I glanced at Harry. “Okay with you?”
“Yep.”
The way he said it, I knew that Harry would renege at the drop of a hat. That was going to have to be between him and Chester.
I told him some of what I knew. He was impressed, in a satisfying sort of way.
“My God, do you realize what you have here? You have a nest. You have a vampire's nest, with a house full of Renfields and blood donors. My God.” He appeared stunned.
“Renffelds?” asked Harry.
“Renffeld was the slave of Dracula,” said Chester.
“Oh sure,” said Harry, with great aplomb. “And there are more of these than you expected?” I think he did it just to needle Chester, but the tracker didn't appear to notice.
“I've been looking for years,” he said. “Years. Never anything like this. Never.”
“Well,” I said, wanting to get back down to business, “I'm really pleased for you. Now, then, we need a little information…. ” I'd been fairly careful, and didn't think it ever occurred to him that he was a suspect. I had to keep it that way, at least until he'd been ruled out. Although it was unstated between us, I knew that Harry felt the same way.
It was also sinking in that this man really, truly believed in vampires. Since he did, just how reliable could his information be? As it turned out, pretty good, if what you wanted was mostly folklore. And that was just what we wanted.
“What is this guy trying to say?” I asked, for openers. “Assuming that he has actually killed…. ”
“Oh, he has, he has,” said Chester.
“Right,” said Harry. “So, what's with the throat injury bit? Post mortem and all.” “Ah,” said Chester. “Are you so certain they've been inflicted after the victim has died?”
Harry and I said, in unison, “Absolutely,” and “Bet your ass.”
“Oh.” Our expert cleared his throat. “Then, possibly, to disguise the true nature of the wound? To obliterate, say, a bite mark?”
He sounded so hopeful.
“Not a chance,” I said. “No bite mark.”
“I think he's doin' it to make people talk about neck or throat injuries,” said Harry. “How about that?”
“He could. I'm not saying that as fact, but, yes, he could.”
Chester warmed to his subject, and I spent about an hour with him and Harry. The upshot was that blood, while significant to a “vampire wannabee” as Harry called him, wasn't in any way a source of nutrition.
“Unlike true vampires, poseurs will consume, maybe, an ounce or less at a time, for the most part,” said Chester. “Daily would be too often. You'd end up with diarrhea and other things if you did more than that. Like a bleeding ulcer will do to you. Sometimes, they might overindulge. But not often.”
That was good to know, but it left me wondering what had happened to much of Edie's blood.
He also said that, at least the more sophisticated of the “poseurs” would dress the part, in a costume reminiscent of the movies.
“Just to convince their following, you know. They'd expect a Dracula, at least now and then.”
“Sure.”
“He'll try to tailor his lifestyle according to that preconception, too. Sometimes for himself, sometimes for his followers or victims.”
Renffelds apparently came in two flavors. The first was just, in his own terminology, somebody who was enthralled by a vampire. The second, according to him, was somebody who was more into the taste of blood itself. More of a participant.
“Those are the 'clinical' Renfields,” he said. “It's a disorder.”
“So,” I asked, “what are these people likely to be like? You know, how will they respond to an investigation?”
Chester laughed for the first time. “They'll not be cooperative, in any real way. They'll protect him from you. They'll tell him everything you say. They'll deny his very existence, for the most part. They'll mislead you at every turn.”
“Hostile, then,” said Harry.
“Yes.”
“What