Sophie Morgan (Book 1): Relative Strangers (A Modern Vampire Story) (16 page)

There was also the new guy in my unit, Richard. He’d moved in about six months ago, but I hadn’t had much contact with him. I rarely bumped into him in the corridor and when I did it was usually at some peculiar hour. I wasn’t sure what he did for a living, but judging by his car it was well paid. Given his irregular hours I didn’t know if he was beginning his day, or finishing it, but I assumed that he was either going or coming back from a running. He was wearing the full gear – running leggings, barefoot trainers. He looked a bit like a ninja, all dressed in black. At that time of year, he should be wearing something reflective, I thought; he’d be lucky for anyone to see him.

Roy was keeping his insides warm with a mug of coffee and his feet dry in his brown leather slippers. He was casually dressed as usual, although he looked like he had been up for a while. Like me, he was usually an early riser. More often than not, I would hear him pottering around his flat, listening to Radio 2 as I left for work in the morning.

"What’s going on?" My gaze focused on the events before me.

"The police came around knocking doors early this morning, trying to see if anyone had heard anything," Roy replied. I hadn't. I must have been out cold. "A dead chap was found in that car a couple of hours ago. It looks like he’s been there for most of the night, apparently."

"Who?" I asked.

"Carol," Roy said. "She was coming back from taking Buster for a walk. He'd been up all night yapping, apparently, so she thought she'd take him out, you know, calm him down."

"Oh." I had been referring to the body and who the victim was, not who had found him.

"I spoke to her briefly earlier; she says she didn’t notice anything until she was walking back to the flat - probably still half asleep. She saw someone crumpled over the steering wheel and the doors open, she went over to see if they were alright, and found them dead. She’s very upset."

"How horrible," I declared looking over at her. Taking a closer look over at her, I could see that she was shaking and her face was blotchy as if she’d been crying.

"Sounds like foul play." It was Richard, the new guy on the block. He had joined us.

I think it was the first time Richard had said more than a straightforward salutation to me. Roy nodded in agreement. I was sandwiched between them, not sure if he was directing his comments to just Roy or to us both. Being much shorter than both of them, he was literally talking over my head.

"From what Carol says, it looks like an obvious explanation, although the police don’t seem to be giving much away," Roy replied.

"What do you mean?" I piped up.

It was Roy who answered. "Well, from what I hear, he was covered in blood, looked like he’d had his throat cut."

"Body dump?" Richard asked.

"Maybe, but I can’t imagine anyone here doing such an evil thing. Not here, not in our car park. There has got to be better places to get rid of a body." I couldn't help but remember mine and Mickey's uncertainty about how to dump a corpse in a crisis. I wanted to say that it's not as easy as you think.

"He could have killed himself," Richard commented matter of factly. "Not the most pleasant way to go, admittedly, but you can never really understand people, can you?"

I listened to this exchange in horror. While they were debating on what had happened, all I could think of was that there was a dead body no more than twenty yards in front of me. It was utterly bizarre, frightening, and violent. An icy panic crept up my extremities, limbs and into my chest. Roy noticed I was shivering and took off his chunky Arran cardigan, dropping it over my shoulders awkwardly with one hand while the other kept a firm grip on his mug of coffee. I muttered a thank you, appreciative of the gesture while my brain churned the same thing over, over and over again. VAMPIRE. What if it was a vampire?

The three of us l stood there for a while, looking on as the body was successfully removed and hidden away in a small estate van. Eventually, there were only a couple of police cars and some uniformed officers left.

One by one, residents went back to their business and the constables continued on their door to door enquiries, trying to make contact with anyone who was at home. Although the road was closed off, many residents, mostly working people, had decided to leave by bus or foot. The police would have to return to speak to them. The rest of the residents were retired, home workers or shift workers, so had managed to avoid much inconvenience. For some of them, it was probably the most exciting thing that had happened to them in a long time.

Richard walked back to our unit, presumably to change out of his running gear and get on with whatever he actually did for a living. I didn’t see him for the rest of the day, so I was still no wiser – I should have taken the opportunity to find out a bit more about him while I was out there. Carol was escorted back to her building by a female constable, who left about half an hour later. Carol struck me as someone who wouldn’t want a big fuss made over her. She was very like me, only thirty years older; she’d rather be left on her own to get on with it and to distract herself.

Roy and I were some of the last few stood outside. Two of the remaining constables approached Roy and me, perhaps assuming that we lived together, what with us being joined at the hip throughout and with me wearing his clothes. At a push, they could have thought he was my dad – nice thought really; he was a decent guy.

At times like those, I'd imagine that a dad is the sort of person you'd want around you. Someone big and strong to tell you that everything is okay, comfort you - possibly even tell you what to do, so you don't have to worry about thinking too much. It was one of the few occasions in my life that I remembered I didn’t have one and that it might be nice to have a strong, father figure to protect me. As it was, I didn’t even have my grandfather anymore.
Or Mickey, he’s abandoned you, don’t forget.

The two policemen didn’t look much older than me, which didn’t inspire much confidence in either of us. The one looked particularly nervous and I suspected that it was his first major incident. The other acted as if he was a bit more experienced and took the lead with the questioning. His first question was to ask if we preferred to go inside to talk, but we both declined, preferring to keep a clear line between the crime scene and our homes. His second question was for our names and addresses, which we dutifully provided. The more nervous constable seemed relieved and smiled a lopsided grin at me, which I thought a bit peculiar.

We were asked where we were between the hours of 10.30pm and 6am that morning, which we both remarked was easy – in our respective beds. The line of questioning then continued in the same vein - trying to uncover if we'd heard anything, noticed anything unusual, that sort of thing. It was a bit of a fruitless line of inquiry in my case, as I'd made it clear that I was sound asleep by then.

I wondered if they always asked such stupid questions. I was cold and anxious; I was in no mood to waste my time with daft questions. Roy seemed a lot more laid back than me, but that was probably because he wasn’t on perpetual high alert for supernatural happenings. I hoped that the police didn’t take my twitchiness as a sign of guilt. I was bound to crumble under interrogation. They’d ask if I knew anything about the murder, and I’d say "no but I murdered two vampires in Antwerp, what do you think of them apples?"

Neither Roy nor I could give them much help with their enquiries and, deflated, they shortly resumed their door to door enquiries. Returning Roy's cardigan, I thanked him for it and told I was going back in. He told me to lock my door and call him if I needed anything or wanted to talk.

By the time I returned to the safety of my flat, Charlie was ready for his lunch and wasn’t impressed by the fact that I hadn’t refilled his food tray. The local newspaper must have uploaded its news to its website and social media feed as I’d had three text messages from Tracy asking if I was alright. I sent a quick reply saying I was fine and that I was heading back to bed to try and sleep over my sore head. It was a lie, but I wasn’t in the mood to trade gossip on the gruesome goings-on outside my front door. Besides, there was someone else I needed to see.

Carol sounded tired when I heard her voice over the intercom. Nevertheless, she buzzed me into the unit and met me at her apartment door. Buster plodded behind her like a bodyguard. I held out the small plate of sandwiches, wrapped in clear wrap and topped with a chocolate cornflake cake.

"I thought you should probably eat something," I explained, entering the small hallway without waiting for an invitation. I reached down and petted Buster before going any further, not wanting to barge in and appear completely rude, especially as I’d never actually been in her flat before.

Carrying the plate in her hand, Carol ushered me towards the lounge and laid the snacks down on a large coffee table in the centre. I’d disturbed her watching the lunchtime news on the TV, waiting for the local news.

I told Carol that I’d make us some tea and instructed her to unwrap the food parcel and make a start on eating something. I apologised in advance that it was only a couple of simple cheese sandwiches. Still, it would be better for her to eat something than nothing. Thankfully, her kitchen was sensibly laid out, with tea bags and coffee stored in labelled jars and a selection of dry mugs on the draining board. It didn't take me long to find everything that I needed.

After a few minutes, I returned with two mugs of tea which I’d sweetened with sugar. I didn’t usually take sweeteners or anything with drinks, and I didn’t even know if that was how Carol drank it, but in a crisis sweet tea had seemed like a good idea. Kieran had set that that precedent back in Antwerp and as I recalled that small act of silence, I felt a moment of regret. I wished Mickey was with me.

I placed both mugs down in front of us, on two cork coasters, which lay on the table in front of the sofa. She hadn’t unwrapped the sandwiches, so I peeled off the film wrap and nudged the plate towards her. After a little coaxing, she picked one up and commenced munching. Buster sprang up onto the sofa next to her and looked at me with a degree of gratitude for getting his guardian to eat something.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, taking in the national weather forecast and waiting for the short regional news round up. It was usually a brief broadcast during the day, with a full half hour dedicated to local news at six thirty in the evening. I’d set the Sky box to record the evening show in case I missed it.

Our murder was headline news, with the presenter giving an overview of what had happened, spliced with some brief footage taken earlier that day. The voice over for the video sounded like the reporter that had been at the scene earlier. Essentially, the news told me nothing, which was probably quite an accurate reflection of what the police knew at that stage.

"It’s just so terrible, isn’t it?" I commented, "And on your own doorstep! You just don’t expect it." I hoped that my remark would open up the conversation.

Carol didn’t say anything at first. Then she took a large swig from her mug, turned in her seat and stared directly at me. It was quite disarming.

"I’ve never seen anything so completely horrific," Carol explained, shaking visibly. "I've seen a dead body before, what with working at the hospital and everything, and when a relative has died, I was with Aunty Joan when she passed, but nothing like that. Nobody who has been killed, actually
murdered
."

"It must be have been so horrible Carol," I said sympathetically. I wondered if the sight had been more gruesome than that of a vampire with a wrench hanging out of its eye socket.

"Oh Sophie, it was, it really was. And who knows how long that poor, poor man was out there for, how many people had walked past him, maybe someone could have even saved him if they had gotten to him earlier. Perhaps if I’d seen him when I first went out I could have saved him. Oh God Sophie, what if it’s my fault he’s dead?"

She descended into tears, sobbing into both hands as she cradled her face in them. It reminded me of Mickey and how he’d broken down when he’d thought he could have been responsible for killing someone, although in hindsight I wondered how much of that was guilt and how much was fear of what might happen to him as a result.

I got up from the armchair and sat down on the sofa next to her. I patted her gently on the back and tried to sound reassuring.

"From what I can gather, they don’t know exactly when or how he died yet. I think we should wait to hear what the coroner or the police say before we jump to any conclusions. I’m sure he was there for a long time and that there was absolutely nothing,
nothing,
that you or anyone else could do - especially if his injuries were as severe as I’ve heard they were." Carole appeared to brighten up a little with that. She shuffled in her seat to better sit upright, and rubbed away the tears with the sleeve of her fleece jacket. "Not that I know what happened to him of course," I added.

So far, I knew little about how the body in the car park had been killed. Before I instigated a full-scale monster hunt, or more likely just got whipped up into an anxiety attack, I needed to make sure that this was actually the result of a vampire attack. After all, I’m sure that of all the millions of people who have been murdered and beaten up, the vast majority were not victims of vampires or anything else that goes bump in the night. I didn’t want to upset Carol unnecessarily, but I did want to at least know what she knew.