Fire Within (22 page)

“Where were you last night, Fred?”

He came off the stool this time, his face alarmed. “Oh no. I wouldn’t hurt her. How can you think that?”

“All I asked was where you were. It’s routine. We ask everyone.”

“Doesn’t feel routine.” He dropped back on the bar stool and took another swig of beer. “OK, you want an alibi. Last night, let’s see. I went to a movie with friends about 7:00, then we had a few beers at Charlie’s Pub, on Fiesta St. Got home around midnight.”

“Anybody come home with you?”

“No. Is that a problem?”

Ari shook her head. No alibi for the critical time, but no motive either, as far as she could see. In fact, he was the only person she had found who claimed to be a friend.

“What about other clients, friends? Where she lived? Can you tell me anything about her day to day life?”

“She dated somebody. For real, not a job thing, but I don’t know who. She didn’t talk much about herself. Never about clients.”

A lover. “What did she say about this person?”

He rubbed his jaw. “Nothing definite. More casual comments like, it was nice to have someone to do things with. I never asked for details because…well, I didn’t think it was any of my business. Being sort of a client and all. I think they had an apartment together in Olde Town, somewhere near the park. I walked her part-way one night.” He looked at Ari. “Anything else I can do?”

“Any personal information you can remember might help us. Even little things. If we can locate her home or her lover, that might help us identify the killer.”

He stared at the floor, as if searching his memory. “She enjoyed art. We used to visit the college art museum once in a while. She liked the modern stuff. Oh, yeah, she grew up in Tennessee. I remember because my brother lives there, and we talked about whether Graceland was worth seeing.” He lifted his head and frowned at Ari. “Pitiful, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“How little I know. Seems like I should know a lot more about someone I considered a friend.” He emptied the bottle and set it down.

Ari left him contemplating life as seen through an empty beer bottle. She figured bottle number two was in his near future. Collegiate therapy.

He’d given her the first new piece of personal data and the potential link with the other cases. Now they had a lover to find. Someone knew Vanessa was missing but hadn’t come forward. Was he not worried yet, or hiding his guilt?

Ari called Ryan. No one else had done any better. Several clients had alibis; almost as many did not; others had simply not been at home to interview. Between Ari, Ryan, and his officers they’d covered most of the list. He’d have someone on the second shift follow up on those not at home.

Ryan echoed Ari’s concern about the boyfriend not reporting Vanessa’s absence.

“Could be an innocent reason, I suppose. Out of town, or married. Or maybe they had a fight. We could still get a call. Did Andreas have any luck finding her home?”

“Didn’t hear. I thought he’d called you,” Ryan said.

“Uh, no.”

“Don’t tell me,” he groaned. “You guys are on the outs again? I wish you’d make up your mind.”

“And you can mind your own business, partner.” Her words weren’t heated, more defensive, but she instantly regretted them. None of this was Ryan’s fault, and he had every right to complain if something affected the investigation. “Sorry. Guess I’m feeling bitchy.”

“And you don’t want to talk about it. Am I right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let me know if he becomes a problem. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks. But it isn’t like that. It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always,” Ryan muttered obscurely. “He must not have found her residence, or he would have left one of us a message. Got any other ideas?”

“I have one more source I can tap. You remember Rita, my vamp informant? I’ll track her down this evening.”

* * *

Rita had been an eighteen-year-old runaway from Minnesota. She’d gotten off the bus in Riverdale, bummed around the streets for thirteen months, and one night met a handsome stranger in a bar. Only hours later, she was staggering from blood loss, out of her mind with hungers she didn’t understand, and perpetually nineteen years old. That’s when Ari found her abandoned in an alley almost two years ago. Last fall, Ari had saved her boyfriend Gordon from an ugly death at the hands of a group of werewolves. Both were good reasons Rita would help if she could. That didn’t mean getting information from her would be easy. Rita had an attitude.

Ari had never failed to locate Rita at Maurie’s Bar, a little dive on State Street, and her luck held today. The bartender didn’t like having Ari around, but he recognized her by now, and once his customers got used to periodic visits from an Otherworld cop, they stopped disappearing every time she walked in the door. He gave her his usual scowl, poured a glass of seltzer and pushed it across the counter. Ari laid down a five, and he nodded toward the far corner.

Rita was playing pinball. A reluctant grin crept across Ari’s face. If anyone could look good in a two-piece black spandex outfit, it was Rita. She was slender and sinuous with long reddish-brown hair. Her usual garb was silk and leather, and very little of it. This evening she had opted for more material, but the spandex left even less to the imagination. She was also sporting some new additions, a sparkling navel ring, and a brow piercing. Ari noticed two male wolves were keeping an interested eye on Rita. The bejeweled vamp was going to score tonight at more than pinball.

“Hey, Rita. Came to see my favorite vamp girl. Nice jewelry.”

“You like it?” Rita asked, wiggling her brow up and down. “Sexy, huh?” She turned her attention back to the game. “Did you hear Gordon and I split? He’s gotten all uppity since he started working at that club. You ever see him?”

“Now and then. If he’s so bad, why are you asking about him?”

“No reason. Just wondered.”

Ari could tell it was more than that. Rita was carrying a torch, but it wasn’t likely Gordon would be back. He had a new girlfriend. “I’ve seen him around,” Ari said, “but not to talk to. You have a fight?”

“Not really. He was picking at everything. My clothes. The way I talk. And he didn’t like me hanging out with my friends. Don’t think there was much he liked. Except the sex.” Rita grinned. “He liked that, all right.”

“Don’t they all?”

Rita ended her pinball game and sat down at the nearest table. Ari slipped into the seat across from her.

“So why you here, Ari? You didn’t come to talk about me and Gordon. That’s for sure.”

“No, but I’m sorry things didn’t work out. If I see Gordon, you want me to tell him anything?”

“You’d do that? Give him a message?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Crap, I don’t know what I’d say. He thinks I’m a loser. Maybe he’s right.”

Rita wasn’t the greatest catch, but Ari hated to see her so down on herself. Her life had been hard enough. “You’re not a loser. You’ve done pretty well for yourself, considering how it started.”

“Do you really think so? That I’m doing OK?” Rita asked eagerly.

“I said it, didn’t I?”

Rita had been abandoned by her sire, an almost fatal occurrence. But Ari had taken her to a vampire shelter where they provided for her, until Rita learned enough skills to survive and find her own nest. In those first weeks, Ari had visited regularly and developed a soft spot for the young vamp. Rita had needed someone and, kind of like a baby chick, she’d imprinted on the first non-threatening face she saw. Ari had tried hard to re-direct her. Failing that, she’d accepted her responsibility and kept an eye on the younger woman. That included propping Rita’s ego on occasion.

Rita beamed at Ari. “Thanks for saying that.” She squirmed a little higher in her chair, crossed her legs and let one spike heel dangle. The corners of Rita’s mouth turned up, and she glanced around the room.

Recognizing the signs, Ari hid a smile. Rita was feeling a little snarkier after the small ego boost, and with Rita, feeling good meant she was ready to play. She’d soon have at least one of these dubious male specimens making a move. Ari decided it was time to get her questions answered. “Did you hear about the latest vampire murder?”

“Some hooker in the park?”

“Her name was Vanessa. A loner, I think. Did you know her?”

“Don’t think so. What’s she look like?”

“Taller than you. Big brown eyes. Long brown hair, reddish highlights. Worked for a guy named Jackson.”

“Wait a sec.” Rita sat forward, both feet hit the floor. “Could be Vani. She was really nice to me. At the shelter. She was new too.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“You checked all the nests? Huh. Haven’t seen her since shelter days. Maybe they’ve got an address. Got to have one when you leave.” Rita looked doubtful. “But it’s been a while.”

“What do you remember about her?”

“Almost zilch. Vani never said much. Real nice but quiet. She wasn’t happy, hated being a vamp. I guess I’m not surprised she didn’t join a nest. She wanted her old life back.”

Yeah, well, there was no going back, only forward. For any of them.

Ari stood and laid a twenty on the table. “Have the next drink on me. I’ll tell Gordon I saw you—and that you’re doing great.”

Rita threw Ari a smile and raised her drink in a salute. Sisters in arms.

* * *

The New World Shelter was on State Street, five blocks up the hill from the nightlife and even further from the tourist sections of Olde Town. The modest brown frame building, with no outside designation except the address, sat well back from the curb. Just like the abuse centers, New World tried to restrict their location to those that needed to know. It didn’t always work, but it kept the casual crazies away.

Ari pushed the button, the security camera flashed green, and the gray-haired woman on the desk buzzed her in. Most of the staff knew Ari from her frequent orientation visits. She stopped by once a week to introduce herself to new residents, mostly werecreatures and vampires, and let them know that the Magic Council’s resources were available.

Mrs. Archer, one of the shelter’s dedicated retiree volunteers, greeted her with a smile. Short and solid, with salt and pepper hair, she was a no-nonsense human with a warm heart who always smelled like lilacs in Spring.

“It’s been a while since we’ve run into each other,” Ari said. “How are the grandchildren?”

“Oh, my goodness, they’re growing so fast. I have a new one.” The woman’s whole face twinkled. “That’s why I haven’t been around lately. I was there for the birth, and I have pictures. Would you like to see?”

How could Ari say no? It only took a couple minutes to ooh and aah. When the photos were put away, Ari asked about Vanessa and the shelter’s old records.

“Oh my, we got everything. Irene never lets us throw away a thing. Has this girl done something wrong?”

“No. It’s worse than that. She’s dead. Murdered.”

“That’s dreadful! Was she one of those poor victims on the news? I always hope our charges will do well, but I know it doesn’t always happen. How can I help?”

“An address. Her name’s Vanessa or Vani. We’re trying to locate her home, employer, or friends.”

“Well, let me see what I can find.” Mrs. Archer rummaged through the file cabinets and finally retrieved a slender brown folder. “It says here she stayed about three weeks.” The older woman leafed through the pages. “And then left to stay with a friend. But, oh, dear, it doesn’t list the friend’s name or address. Not even a phone. The ‘no contact’ box is checked, which means she refused any follow-up.” She handed Ari the file. “Just lists the classes she took, how much blood she got, an assessment of her risk level. Hers was low.”

Ari thumbed through the documents and handed the file back. “Do you remember her? Tall, long brown hair.” Ari showed her a copy of the photo.

“No, doesn’t look familiar. Pretty. We get so many.” She returned the file to the cabinet. “But Daniel’s in back. I’ll get him. He remembers all the pretty girls.”

Mrs. Archer was gone so long, Ari began to think she’d been forgotten. She was checking her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, when she heard the older woman’s voice. Looking toward the hallway, Ari saw the volunteer encouraging an aging gentleman beside her to hurry his steps. Daniel’s once tall, thin frame had given into age, now slightly stooped and frail. His head was shiny bald, except for the brown age spots and a sprinkling of white hairs that Ari could have counted on her toes. He peered at Ari with a myopic look. A real lothario.

“This is Daniel,” Mrs. Archer announced loudly. She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t hear so good.” Then, she turned up the volume up again. “Says he remembers Vanessa. Tell her, Daniel.”

“You just did.” The elderly man’s voice was gravelly, his manner still brusque. “And you don’t have to talk so loud. Not completely deaf.” He turned his whole body to face Ari. “You’re that Guardian gal. Seen you here before.”

“I come quite often, but I don’t think I’ve met you.”

“They keep me in the back. Sorting things. These old bones are still good enough for that.” He scowled. “This getting old stuff’s no fun. But as they say, better than the alternative.” He tee-heed at his timeworn joke. “So you want to know about Vani. Now that one could’ve been a movie star. Sorry to hear she died. Real pretty gal. Wasn’t here long, but I always remember the babes. That’s why I remember you.” He twinkled at Ari.

She smiled at the old man’s flirting. “The records say she left with a friend. Do you know who that was?”

“Well, now.” Daniel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “A young gal came several times to see her, if I remember the right person. Could have been a volunteer or social worker.”

“Can you describe her?”

“Human. Brown hair, I think. Average. Not one of the beauties, but real pleasant. Can’t really picture her face.” He squinted at Ari. “Myrtle says Vani was murdered. You be careful now. A little gal like you shouldn’t be chasing criminals.”

“Thanks for the concern, but I’m tougher than I look. If you think of anything else, please call.” She gave each of them a business card and left.