Code 61 (13 page)

“Which 'whole house' are you talking about, Carl?”

I told him about the location, and the other residents. I also told him that the owner wasn't there.

“Look, why don't you just go with a consent search, for now, if you can. I mean, I trust your work, but I'd be happier if you could go that route for now.”

I was positive I could get a search warrant application done well enough to stand any challenge, but I also knew that he was going to have to defend it if anything went wrong.

“Okay, Mike. But I just hate to do the consent searches, you know. I mean, if they deny permission, then we have to sit on everything and do a rush application. And in this one, any of the five can say 'no' to a request.”

“No,” he said, “go for a consent search. Any of them can consent to the common areas of the home. Individuals can only deny access to their own rooms.”

I knew him well enough to stop arguing. But I was disgusted. There are a multitude of ways to get the results of a consent search tossed out of court, and the resulting evidence right along with them. In a really serious case, there is absolutely no substitute for a warranted search issued from the district court. Besides, consent was the lazy way. The way you'd proceed if you wanted to go to your sister-in-law's party in Dubuque.

Hester could sense something amiss as I sat down.

“What?”

“Mike wants us to go with a halfassed consent search,” I said.

“That's no good, unless we're really lucky.”

“Tell me.” I shrugged. “I'm thinking in terms of a search warrant application, anyway.”

“Will the county attorney be up?”

“No, he's going to a party in Dubuque.” We both smiled at the same time. This was going to be a really fast case of “Do you mind if we search this property that is under your control?” I figured we could have an application in two or three hours, max, and be back in the house within four. If …

“Dr. Peters?”

“Yes?” He knew what was coming.

“We might need some preliminary notes, before you leave … ”

Just then, this strange dude walked up to our table. He was dressed plainly, in olive slacks and a flannel shirt. I didn't know him from Adam, and it didn't appear that either Hester or Dr. Peters did, either.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “Would any of you be Deputy Houseman?”

“I would. And you are …?”

“William Chester. I spoke with your sheriff earlier today, very briefly. May I have a minute of your time?” He handed me a business card, which proclaimed him to be William Francis Chester, MA, of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Along with his post office box, phone number, and e-mail address was the title Anthropologist & Bioarchaeologist.

Well, at least he wasn't either press or an attorney. I fished out one of my cards, and handed it back. “Yeah. The office said you'd be up this way.” And I had totally forgotten he was coming.

As I spoke, he pulled up a chair and sat. “I'll just take a moment of your time, for now,” he said. “I understand you've had a possible vampire sighting here.”

I looked at Hester, and she avoided my gaze, obviously enjoying my plight. There's something about being public servants that makes us relish coworkers having to deal with loonies.

“No, we haven't,” I said firmly.

“According to the local paper … ”

I cut him off. “It's a window peeker. That's all there is to it. Nothing more.”

“I see.” He looked at Hester and Dr. Peters for any sign of support. Two more deadpan expressions were never seen. “Your sheriff said that … ”

Right. Lamar. “That's okay, he might have been a little unclear. He, oh, lost a relative today.” I didn't want to be rude; I just wanted to be rid of him. “Sorry I couldn't be more help.”

“I hunt them, you know,” he said, looking at me. “I've been hunting one in particular for a very long time. I think this could be that one.”

“Hold it right there,” I said. “I'll say this one time. Just one. Do not hunt anything in this county that does not require a hunting license. Am I clear? If you interfere in any way with any investigation you'll be wearing orange and eating shitty food for several months.” I stared at him. “I promise.”

“Oh, I believe you,” he said with a slight smile. “Completely. But being so sensitive sort of gives the game away, doesn't it? Now I'm even more inclined to believe that you do have a vampire incident here.”

People can be pretty exasperating sometimes. It did occur to me, rather belatedly, that he might have something that Harry could use regarding the death of Randy Baumhagen. Might. It was connected to our case, after all, and that was what had brought our vampire hunter to us in the first place. All the way from Milwaukee, for God's sake.

“Well, just a second,” I said. “I know vampires don't exist, but we might have somebody who dresses up like one. Thing is, he might be involved in a case back on the Wisconsin side. Do you have a name to go with whoever you're hunting?”

“No. No, I don't. Just methods, habits. No name. Not yet.”

“What methods?”

“Well, he appears at a door or window. Asks to come in. If he's invited, he enters, and begins the seduction of his victim.”

“And, then, if he's not invited in? What, does he just stay out?”

“Oh, yes. Vampires can't come in unless they're invited.” He was serious.

Hester just couldn't resist. “What does he do to them?”

“He eventually consumes some of their blood.”

“Well, of course.” I kept a straight face. It was a vampire, after all. What did I expect?

“He experiences what they experience, when he does that. He shares with them. They tell me it's very intimate.” William Chester looked at us each in turn. “It's the pheromones. He ingests their pheromones and experiences what they feel.”

Dr. Peters snorted. “No. No, I'm afraid that doesn't work.”

“You laymen must understand … ” began William Chester.

“I'm a forensic pathologist,” said Dr. Peters.

Silence. Then the vampire hunter fished in his breast pocket and handed Dr. Peters his card. “Then you may well need this,” he said, with remarkable aplomb.

Dr. Peters, to his credit, accepted it with good grace, and put it in his pocket.

“Look,” I said, “they have a case back across the river in Conception County. You might be able to give them a hand with that. Not that it's a vampire,” I said quickly. “But check in with Investigator Harry Ullman. Tell him Deputy Houseman sent you. Tell him I think you might have something he could be interested in.” I didn't tell him to have Harry call me. Harry was going to do that, without a doubt.

“Excellent. I do have quite a depth of knowledge on the subject, by the way. I know how to … well, track them. Follow, if that's a better word.”

“Stalking is a crime,” I said. “People are pretty sensitive about that.”

“Thank you.” He stood. “If I develop anything, I'll be in touch.”

“Anytime.”

I watched him leave. Hester kicked me under the table. “Way to go, Houseman.”

“What?”

“Harry's gonna kill you.”

“Not if I can point him at Lamar first,” I said.

“Aren't you going to call him?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Nope. Some packages are best left unannounced.” I looked over at Dr. Peters. “You sure shut him up when you told him you were a forensic pathologist,” I said.

“It stops lots of conversations,” said my favorite ME. “Trust me.”

It was totally dark when we got back to the Mansion. I grabbed a bunch of “Permission to Search” forms from the briefcase in my trunk before walking back up the steps to the huge house. Hester had preceded me, and was on her way to talk with the three lab techs up in Edie's room.

I found the group in the kitchen, with my favorite dispatcher, Sally, doing guard duty. She had joined the Sheriff's Reserve about six months back, and was in full sheriff's department uniform, including handgun and cuffs.

“Hey, Sally! Lookin' good, there.”

“Houseman,” she said, with her mouth full, “you missed a great meal!” She swallowed. “I didn't know you guys got to eat like this.”

The long table in the kitchen was set with rustic sorts of dishes, with the remains of a big tossed salad, the remaining third of a big bread loaf, a large glass dish with some sort of casserole, and a big glass pitcher of tea.

“You're catching on really fast, there, kid,” I said. Sally, being about five feet tall, and weighing in at all of a hundred pounds with her red hair wet, could afford to eat. “Everybody behave while we were gone?”

Sally nodded, and Holly Finn said, “We wouldn't want to argue with Annie Oakley, here.” She said it pleasantly enough, but there was a mocking tone about the statement, as well.

“You got that right, Huckleberry,” said Sally. Touché.

I got the impression they didn't like each other.

Hanna was standing at the cupboards, removing coffee cups, and Toby was just setting a pie down on the table. Everybody else was seated. Everybody together. The timing seemed good to me.

“Well, as long as you're all here,” I said, “I'm going to officially request your permission to search this house.”

Verbal pandemonium. Something like, “No way,” from Huck, “Not likely,” from Kevin, “Sure,” from Toby, “Well,” from Hanna, and all at the same time. Melissa, having been drinking tea at the very moment I asked, got in her reply in the pause that followed the initial outburst.

She swallowed. “Why?” The only sensible response in the lot.

“Be glad to tell you,” I said. “Is there any coffee still in the pot?”

Hanna got busy, pouring me a cup. Genuinely nice, I thought. She did seem to be the one hardest hit by Edie's death, as well.

I made them wait a few seconds, as I took the proffered cup from Hanna, and laid my “Permission to Search” forms on the counter. This was one of those little semi-crucial moments in an investigation that just won't happen twice.

Toby stood perfectly still, halfway between the table and the counter, the pie in his hands, staring. I certainly had his attention.

“We have strong indications that Edie didn't commit suicide,” I said. “Several.” I paused, and nobody seemed to breathe. “We're now in the preliminary stages of a murder investigation.”

I was really expecting surprise, at least on the part of most of them, and probably an argument that a murder was impossible, or at least way out of the question. I expected that.

What I didn't expect was Toby tossing the whole pie on the kitchen counter, saying something about “I gotta go,” and disappearing out through the screen door into the dark night. To be fair, I don't think anybody else expected that, either.

TEN

Saturday, October 7, 2000
21:19

We had to get him, and we'd be one hell of a lot better off if we got him soon. I headed out the door and just hollered “Stay here” to Sally as I passed. I didn't want any more people splitting on us. By the time I got out the door, there was nothing to see but the blackness surrounding the small area lit by the light from the Mansion's windows. Black ground, black grass, black trees, and a black sky speckled with stars. I thought I heard some movement off to my left, but since I didn't have a flashlight with me, I'd never know what it was. Then silence. Shit.

I could hear Hester's voice, Sally's voice, and then the screen door opened behind me, and Hester said, “Where'd he go?”

I didn't even look back. “I don't know. See if one of the reserves can get some flashlights out of their car.” I was trying to get my eyes adjusted to the dark as soon as I could. It wouldn't help much, but at least I would be able to see if I was going to collide with something within a couple of feet. I couldn't imagine Toby making very good time, wherever he was headed. Not without breaking his neck.

Sally came around the side of the house a few minutes later, with her flashlight on, and said, “Here's a light for you, too.”

So much for my night vision.

It was so damned dark up there in the woods, we brought two squad cars around the side of the house, on the lawn, and tried to light the area with spotlights and headlights. Not much help, but we extended our sight line to the surrounding woods. No sign of Toby. Since Sally and I had the only flashlights, we began to move toward the nearest trees.

“I think I might have heard a noise over that way,” I said, shining my flashlight to my left.

“Okay.”

Hester and Reserve Officer Knockle, who was nearly seventy, and had been on the reserve since 1966, stayed at the residence. We'd called for assistance, but it would be a good twenty minutes before one of the regular deputies on the night shift could get up to us.

“We're never gonna find him, Houseman,” said Sally. “Not in a million years.”

“Probably,” I said. “So we better spread out.”

“No way,” said Sally. “I'll come along, but I draw the line at wandering around out here by myself.”

I raised my voice. “Toby! Come on, now, Toby!”

“Like that'll help,” came a soft mutter from my partner.

“Hey, Houseman!” I heard the screen door slam, and Hester hurried over to us. “Better be careful. Knockle says there are lots of foundations scattered through this area.”

“Really?”

“Says they're from the old German commune? I don't know … ”

“Oh, hell,” I said. “That's right.” I pointed my flashlight beam to my left again. “About a quarter of a mile, I'll bet. It was the start of a small town, called Kommune, in the 1820s or so, up here on the hill above the river. Sure … failed by 1860 or '70, I think. Abandoned.”

Sally'd heard of Kommune, as well. “My grandpa used to tell us about that.” She looked over to our left. “Shit, I thought that was miles from here.”

“There's probably a path along the bluff or the hill, to the river, then,” said Hester. “They would have had an access of some sort, and it sure wasn't the current road.”

Well, that made sense. “If there is, we'll try to find it. We were going to start over that way, anyway,” I said. “I thought I might have heard him over there when I first got out the door. See if you can contact whatever car's responding, and have them take the road as close to the base of the cliff as they can. Shine lights up toward the top, and see if they can find a path. Might be enough to keep him up here.”

“Got it,” she said. “You sure you'll be all right in a few hundred feet of uncharted wilderness?” I knew she was grinning.

“I'll be just fine,” said Sally. “Carl's going first.”

“Watch him,” said Hester. “He's a little out of shape. Wouldn't want you to have to carry him back.”

“I'll just call for a wrecker,” said Sally.

We traversed the lawn in seconds, now that the headlights let us see where we were going. The wooded area was going to be a different matter altogether. It didn't look like the headlights penetrated the trees beyond a few feet.

There was something of a path. It was dusty, and big bunches of dry leaves and twigs were clumped along it.

“Might as well assume he took the path,” I said, and headed forward.

I stepped on some twigs just about as soon as I got to the path, causing a brittle snapping sound, and eliciting a pithy “Shhhh,” from Sally. “Don't step on every twig you can.”

I assured her I wouldn't. We called out Toby's name three or four times, but got no response. We were on a gentle downslope that was taking us out of the splinters of light thrown by the cars. The house, I noticed as I looked back through the trees, had all but disappeared from view.

I told Sally to turn off her light. There was no reason to deplete both sets of batteries. After a few more yards, I told her that I was going to turn mine off, too, and to stand very still.

“If Toby's near here,” I whispered, “if we're quiet, I'll bet he spooks first.”

“Don't be too sure,” came the whispered reply.

We stood on the path for about a minute, in darkness and dead silence. I was about to turn on my light and start moving again, when we heard a rustling off the path, to our left. I heard Sally's intake of breath, but she didn't make another sound.

We stood stock-still. We waited at least another minute. Damn. It was still way too soon for my eyes to adapt. That would take another twenty minutes. Come on, Toby. Jump.

Suddenly, I heard a twig crack and snap. To my left, but kind of behind me. My first thought was that it was Sally, trying to get past me for some reason.

“Did you hear that?” Her whispered question came from directly behind me, right where she should have been.

When you're in the dark, and your partner asks a question, you really have to give some sign that you've heard, or they just keep asking.

“Yeah,” I whispered back, not turning. I reached down, and unsnapped my service weapon, leaving my right hand on the butt.

“It's just me,” she said, as I felt a hand on my back. There's always a need for reassurance, and to tell the truth, I was glad she'd reached out her hand. Reassurance goes both ways. “A deer?”

Possibly. I said as much. Then I said, “Shhh.”

We waited a few more seconds, and there was another sound, a little farther ahead and still left of the trail.

I decided it was time to turn on the lights.

I snapped my flashlight on, and could see nothing but trees.

“Shit,” said Sally, caught by surprise. Her light came on immediately.

We did both sides of the path. Nothing.

“What the hell is it?”

“Not sure,” I said, pointing the beam of my light down. I couldn't tell which, if any, of the twigs I was looking at had been the one that had cracked. Roots, some limestone showing through the surface of the path, and the twigs pretty much ruled out a footprint.

“Let's go toward it, anyway,” I said, starting forward along the path.

All of a sudden, there was a loud rustling in the dried leaves off to the right, of somebody or something moving fast. Then a yell and a thump.

Silence. Both our flashlights shined toward the sound. “Toby?” I hollered. “That you, Toby?”

“Help! Help! I broke my fuckin' leg!”

Sally and I both went crashing through the small branches and leaves, toward the sound of Toby's voice. We had to glide our feet, making whooshing sounds in the leaves that blocked out everything else. We stopped again, and he was so loud and clear, we had to be within yards. But we couldn't see him.

“Toby, where are you?”

“Down here! My leg's all broken!”

Sure enough, about ten yards out, off a bit to the left, if you looked really close between two trees, you could see sort of a lumpy area when the flashlight beams moved over that way.

We reached him in just a few seconds. He was lying on his side, in a limestone foundation, on a bed of about a half billion leaves and twigs. He was holding his right leg, bent at the knee, with both hands. Both Sally and I clambered in with him.

“Which leg?” asked Sally. It's training: You're taught not to assume anything if possible, but sometimes it just sounds dumb. I'm sure she thought so, too.

“This one. Aw shit!” He indicated his right leg. It looked fine to me.

“Let me see,” said Sally. She had just finished her EMT training, and sounded suspiciously happy. She began to feel his leg.

“Ouch!”

“Hurt?” Sally has a way.

“Oh, shit, yeah, it hurts! Jesus Christ, lady!”

“Toby,” I said, as much to distract him as anything else. “What the hell'd you run for?”

“ 'Cause you're gonna find out, that's why!” He was pretty near tears.

“Find out what?”

“Just find out,” he said. “Ouch!”

“Your leg looks just fine to me,” said Sally. “It's not broken.”

“Fuck of a lot you know!”

“You might have a sprained knee,” she said. “Don't be such a baby.”

“Toby!” I barked out. His head jerked around to face me. “Toby,” I said, very slowly, “tell me what we're going to find out.” I lowered my voice deliberately, to give it the contrast that would make him listen. “I mean it, Toby.”

“He did it,” said Toby. “He killed her. He finally fuckin' killed her.”

“Who killed her? Kevin?” He hadn't been at the top of my list of suspects.

“No.” He was very quiet. “Oh, fuck, you'll find out anyway. And he'll know all about it…. ”

“Who?”

I waited. Finally, he said, “Daniel. It was Daniel. He did it. And now he'll get us, too.”

“No, he won't,” I said, just about automatically. Always reassure the victim.

“Don't fuckin' count on it,” said Toby, his voice shaking from both pain and fear. “He ain't just anybody, you know…. ”

“Well,” I said, “I'm not, either.” I smiled reassuringly.

He reached up, almost as if he was going to try to grab my collar. I was at least a foot too far away.

“You're a nice guy,” he said, “but you just don't know who you're dealing with.”

“Try me.”

“Daniel's … Daniel's … ”

“Come on,” I said encouragingly, and trying not to sound exasperated.

“He's a vampire.” He looked about as startled as I suspect Sally and I did. “Oh, fuck, I can't believe I said that.”

“Vampire? Who's Daniel? What do you mean, he's a vampire?”

“Daniel Peel,” he said. “And I
call
him a vampire because he fuckin'
is
one. A real fuckin' vampire, man, who drinks blood, and never ever dies.” He moaned. “Fuck, Toby's dead. Toby's dead and fuckin' gone now. Just plonk, plonk, plonk.” He started to shake.

“Oh, come on, Toby, cut the bullshit. Who in the hell ever heard of a vampire called Dan?” I snorted.

Toby said, in a startlingly cold voice, “I have. And you will, too. Don't you fuckin' laugh, he's probably coming for me right now.”

The memory of whatever had made those sounds a few moments ago, on the opposite side of the trail from Toby, suddenly gave me a spooky feeling in the middle of my back.

I heard Sally rustle around, and then heard her working the slide on her department-issue.40-caliber Smith & Wesson. Snick, clack. Bothered her, too, I guess.

“You sure he's out here?”

He paused, then said, “No.”

“Do you know where this Daniel is right now?”

“No.”

“Where is he usually?” He was clamming up on me.

“Could be anywhere,” he muttered. “Anywhere.”

Well, vampire or not, whoever this Daniel Peel was, Toby was certainly convinced that he'd killed Edie. We had our first suspect. We also had our first murder witness.

“Can you get to your feet?” I asked.

“What for?”

“For we don't have to carry your ass all the way back,” I said, in a friendly way. “Try to put some weight on that knee.”

I reached my hand down, and helped him up. He stood on his good leg.

“Go ahead, put the other one down, Toby.”

He gave me a dirty look, but did. Gingerly. Then with more weight. “Ow.” Sort of an obligatory complaint. Now that it appeared it really wasn't broken, I think he was beginning to realize that he'd scared himself into calling for help when he really hadn't needed it. Excellent. He was in good enough shape to go to the office, and be thoroughly interviewed. Very thoroughly.