Code 61 - Donald Harstad [90]
“Oh, yeah. Right, right.”
He looked really fresh, and it looked like they'd been telling the truth about his being in the shower when we'd arrived.
“We're just discussing what we all know about Mr. Peel,” said Hester.
“Oh,” said Toby. “Not much,” and he looked meaningfully around the room, “do we?” It was hard to tell if it was a question, or a really broad hint.
“Well,” I said, “we know what he looks like. We know his name.” I figured it was time to jump in with both feet. “You told us he was a vampire…. So, where does that leave you?”
For a few seconds it got so quiet you not only could have heard a pin drop, I swear you could have heard it whistle as it fell.
Melissa broke the silence by speaking for the first time. “He is,” she said. Straight up, matter-of-fact, with no inflection. “We all know that, too.”
She'd said, “He is,” without hesitation. Nobody else qualified it by saying “He thinks he is.” Just the silence of agreement and acceptance.
“Why do you think,” she said, still with no emotion, “we call this Renfield House?” “Wasn't that the vampire's slave in Dracula?” asked Hester. “Renffeld?”
Melissa nodded. “Of course.”
I still didn't quite realize what I was dealing with. “You're saying that he is a vampire. You don't really believe that, do you? Don't you mean that he believes that he's a vampire?”
“No,” said Melissa. “He is a vampire. That's all there is to it.” I glanced around the room. There sure didn't seem to be any visible dissent.
“Now, really,” I said. “Come on. This isn't Transylvania. Hell, it's not even Los Angeles. There's no such thing as vampires.”
She shrugged. “You're entitled to your beliefs. So are we.” She gave me a secretive little smile. “We know. That's enough for us.”
I don't know that I was exactly surprised that somebody other than Toby would be capable of being conned into seriously believing in vampires, so much as I was just beginning to appreciate the ramifications for our case.
“Okay,” I said, slowly. I pretended to write some notes, then looked up. “Okay, so, then, if he is, why stick around?”
I half expected Toby to be the first to speak up, but it turned out to be Melissa.
“We aren't afraid of him,” she said. “We learn from him. You have to try to imagine the knowledge of a man who has been here so long.” As she spoke, she became flushed. “The strength. The power. The confidence.”
“And the wealth,” added Toby again. “Do you have any idea what compounded interest can amount to in three hundred years? But, like Melissa says, it's the power. Nobody fucks with him, believe me.”
“But he possibly killed Edie,” I said. “Remember that.”
“There's a downside to everything,” said Kevin, cynically. “Of course we don't agree with you, but if you say he killed her, then we have no choice but to believe you.”
“Mind sharing how you think she died?” I asked.
“I have no opinion.”
“Do any of you happen to know one”—I pronounced it slowly, as though this might be the first time I'd heard the name—“Alicia Meyer?”
“I do,” said Huck. “She works on the boat.”
“Yeah, so do I,” said Melissa.
“And, how long has this Peel been interested in her?” I was out on a limb, but it was just a short one.
“What?” I'd evidently caught at least Melissa by surprise.
“You know,” I said conversationally, “interested enough to show up outside her second-floor window, all duded up with the teeth and all, and asking if he could come in?”
“I have no idea,” said Melissa, making a damned fine recovery. “That's his business. Like they say, 'All I know is what I read in the papers.' So, you want to hang that Peeping Tom incident on Dan, too?”
“I believe it was him that night, behind her apartment. But, if you know how serious he is about her, I'd really like to know.”
“Why?” asked Huck. Perfect.
“Because Alicia's boyfriend is dead,” I said. “One Randy Baumhagen. I assume you read about him in the papers, too.”
“That was in Wisconsin, wasn't it?” asked Melissa.
“But, yes. In the Conception County Sentinel, in fact. Why does that have anything to do with us? He just drowned.”
“Well, let's say