The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3) (27 page)

“Mr. Candle,” she asked. “Have you had any trouble?”

“Not nearly enough, sister,” I replied.

“Right.” She smiled politely. “Well, your guests arrived. They insisted on waiting here to meet you.”

I looked into the corner of the lobby and then I saw them – the three members of my squad from the war. They were sitting around, smoking cigarettes and talking quietly. I walked over to them, and their conversation ended. Each one stood up and ran to say hello to me and Weatherby.

“Good to see you, Mort! Jeez Louise, you smell terrible!” Dutch was our mechanic, an affable guy with a growing gut and thinning hair. He still wore his grease-stained coveralls and a rubber bowtie, a flat cap on his head. “Weatherby, you’re looking good. Did you get taller?”

“I don’t believe so, sir,” Weatherby said, shaking Dutch’s hand. “It is wonderful to see you.”

“Grand to see you too, little Weatherby.” Elkins stood behind Dutch. Tall and whip-thin, he looked like he ought to be working on a farm. He wore a khaki leather jacket and a tattered Stetson, and his freckled face split in a smile when he saw me and Weatherby. “And Sarge, I just want to let you know that I’m here to help. You just say the word and I’ll go to war.”

“And Elkins won’t be alone, my friend.” Tiny pumped my hand and patted Weatherby’s shoulder, nearly knocking the kid off his feet. Tiny could rival a Grizzly Bear for size. He wore a slick black shirt and silver tie with a matching fedora, his voice a soft Cajun twang. “Listen, Sarge, I got a truckload of ordinance sitting out behind this place. I didn’t know what exactly you want, so I just got a whole lot of everything.”

“That’s music to my ears, Tiny,” I said. I nodded to the elevator and we headed over. “I got you boys a room across the hall from mine. It should be a lot better than sleeping out under the stars in some damn Belgian foxhole, I think. We’ll go up there and brief you. After I take a shower, of course.”

The elevator took us up to the top floor. We stepped out into the hall, and it felt like coming home. Sly and Henry Wallace opened the door of their room and stepped outside to meet us. Henry Wallace ran to Weatherby, fear and relief washing over his face at once. Weatherby introduced Dutch, Tiny and Elkins to the boy, while Selena and Chad also came into the hall to say hello.

Selena headed my way. “Morton,” she said, after making sure Weatherby was unharmed. “There’s something I should tell you. I rented another set of rooms. You see, someone else arrived and they said they knew you and have information about Wagner Stein.” She looked away, covering her nose. “What exactly happened out there?”

“Fell in some garbage. Killed a few people. The usual.” I looked over her shoulder, as another door opened. “Who exactly are these friends of mine?”

They stepped into hall, and Weatherby looked up from Henry Wallace. I saw his face go red and a tremor move through him. It was a different kind of fear than facing sudden death from Fielding, but I think it was just as strong. Doc Darby Dearborn, aging, world-traveling archaeologist, stood in the hall. But Weatherby had eyes only for his daughter, the teenage Evelyn Dearborn.

She hurried over to him and they stood apart from each other saying nothing. “Good heavens,” Evelyn said suddenly. “You’ve been injured.” She had light brown hair in two long braids, a red vest and a long pleated skirt. A pair of boots peaked out under the dress.

“I just had a little fall. Nothing more.” Weatherby struggled to find the right words. “Y-you look w-wonderful,” he managed to say. “Would you like to come into our room? We could have dinner there. It’s very nice. Well, I suppose it’s the same as yours, but I’d like to talk about things, and I could introduce you to my friends and—”

“Weatherby.” Evelyn interrupted him. “That sounds lovely.”

So we all went to my room and I ordered up meals for everyone. It was putting a dent in my bank account, but I didn’t care. This was the first time in my life I got to play host for a bunch of my good pals, and I’d do anything for them. Besides, we were all facing down two of the most evil and powerful men on earth. They stood to lose a lot more than money by standing with me.

We didn’t talk about the case until after dinner – and after I had a shower. I leaned back on the couch in my shirtsleeves, reloading my pistols as I laid out everything. Henry Wallace sat next to Weatherby, who stayed near Evelyn. I caught Selena watching them. She had to hide her smile, whenever Weatherby looked in her direction.

I finished my little briefing and reached for a cigarette. “So there it is,” I said. “Wagner’s importing something from Central Europe, and that’s what’s going into Panacea and the junk that Midnight Products is making. I don’t know what it is, but I doubt it’s good.”

“We can fill you in there, Mr. Candle,” Doc Dearborn said. “We’ve been in Central Europe, trying to see what the Viscount’s been up to. I’m afraid we have grave news.”

Evelyn nodded. “He’s been buying ancient artifacts by the dozen. Cursed jewels, enchanted portraits, dirt from the graves of depraved nobles like Elizabeth Bathory – anything with occult significance has captured Wagner’s interest. He’s shipping it all to America.” She lowered her voice, her hands folded. “And I believe I know the spell that he’s attempting to create – mind control.”

I breathed out cigarette smoke. It made a hell of a lot of sense. Drac’s marketing sense could fill all of America with his products. Wagner’s magic could make it trap minds. They’d get people to buy more, and do whatever else they want. I guessed that a few days after Midnight Products became a household name, Dracula could declare himself president-for-life and no one would stop him. The only outrage would come from the counterculture, and Wagner’s Panacea would take care of them.

Sly spoke up. “We have to stop it,” he said. “We’ve got to think of a way.”

“Don’t worry.” I looked to my squad. “I’ve got the best soldiers in the world here to help me.”

Selena raised her hand, like a kid in school. “Morton? I decided to make two more calls. We should have a little more company soon enough. I hope that’s all right.” I nodded, and she explained. “I called Reverend Sharp, from his home in the Appalachians. I think a holy man, who can create various devices to help us, would be quite useful. And I placed another call to Los Angeles. I was assured that Adam will arrive as soon as possible.”

Normally, I wouldn’t like others getting involved in my problems. But given the situation, I was grateful for all the help I could get. I smiled at Selena. “That was a good call, sister. We can use the assistance.” I yawned and stubbed out the cigarette. “All right. That’s enough for the night. Let’s get some shuteye, and tomorrow we’ll plan out what to do with Count Dracula and Wagner Stein.”

My little army split up. Tiny, Elkins and Dutch headed back to their room. They were tired from the trip, and needed the rest. Tiny decided to go back to his truck first, and ready some weapons for tomorrow. I had no doubt they’d come in handy. Chad and Selena said goodnight to Weatherby and headed to their room. Sly did the same.

I had another shower to get more of the garbage smell off of me, and then prepared to hit the hay. When I walked out of the bathroom, one of the Hotel Grande’s silk robes feeling like a lover’s hand on my battered body, I stopped and looked at the living room.

Weatherby, Evelyn Dearborn and Henry Wallace stood there, all watching TV together. Henry Wallace sat between Evelyn and Weatherby, and they looked like some miniature family, taking a break out of their busy day to spend time together. They were watching some Western program, and commenting on it.

“It seems terribly unrealistic,” Weatherby explained. “I am certain that the dusty ‘cowpokes’ as they are called could not be such excellent shots, and they certainly did not have such excellent hair and white teeth as these actors.”

“It’s a television show, Weatherby. Maybe you haven’t seen one before, but they take certain liberties with the truth,” Evelyn explained gently. “I take that back, actually. I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t seen much popular entertainment.”

“Well, I think it’s swell, Miss Dearborn,” Henry Wallace said. “The gun-fighting is really exciting, and the music is nice too.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, darling.  And you can call me Evelyn.” Evelyn reached over Henry Wallace, putting her arm around Weatherby’s slim shoulder. “But having been in a few firefights myself, I must assure you that they are nothing but utterly horrible.”

“I-I know,” Henry Wallace agreed softly. There was real fear in his voice. “I’ve been in a few of them too.” The danger of our situation was finally becoming clear to the poor kid. I felt sorry for him.

“You poor dear.” Evelyn smiled sadly at him. “But don’t you worry. Weatherby and I, your father, and Mr. Candle and all of his soldier friends are here to watch over you, and ensure your safety. And we all promise that no harm will ever come to you, Henry Wallace. Now, why don’t we finish this program and return to our rooms for some sleep. I am sure both of you must be quite fatigued.”

“Y-yes,” Weatherby said. “But I don’t feel it at all, Evelyn, when I’m in your company.”

I smiled to myself at his clumsy affection and headed back to my bedroom. I decided to leave the kids alone, letting them have a little time when they could be together and be happy. Looking back on that horrible showdown with Count Dracula and Wagner Stein in the Big City, I’m glad I gave them that moment. By tomorrow afternoon, all three of those kids would have gone through pure Hell.

Big City Showdown, Part Two

I
wasn’t used to sleeping lightly. During the War, every time I closed my eyes I expected to have to crack them open soon as some mortar shells started screaming down from the sky like the wrath of God, or German boots crunched on snow and pine needles. Then it’d be time to wake up and start the killing. I got older, and maybe I got slower – but I didn’t sleep any deeper. Even when I lay on the comfortable sheets of the king-sized bed in the Hotel Grande, surrounded by my friends and allies, I slept lightly. That’s what saved my life.

I heard someone in the room and my eyes flashed open. For a split second I thought I was still asleep and just having a nightmare. That’s where the face I saw belonged. It had a rat’s snout, long fangs, and dark eyes in a face as pale as snow. Long fingers tipped with longer nails reached out for my throat. The Nosferatu hissed, like a snake about to strike.

I didn’t give the bastard the chance. The damn vampire should have known I could never sleep without a loaded pistol under the pillar. I went for the .45 as the vampire lunged forward. “Mortal!” he snarled, reaching for my throat. “Prepare yourself for a taste of eternity!”

It was too late in the middle of the night for any snappy remarks. I got the gun and swung it under the vampire’s chin. He paused. I pulled the trigger. I had carved a cross in my bullet the night before. That made the bullet holy – and it caused it to spread out in a victim’s body. The shot entered through the vampire’s mouth and left through the back of his head, taking most of the bastard’s skull with it.

He slumped down on the bed and I stood up. The gunshot was ringing in my ears and I was still not quite woken up. I heard more gunshots echoing down the hallways. Screams and shouts followed. I pulled on a pair of trousers and grabbed the tommy gun from the closet as my mind raced. My friends were under attack. It was time to wake up and help them.

“Weatherby!” I dashed out of my bedroom and into the main chamber of the hotel room. The door had been smashed open. The kid stood before the couch, wearing his striped pajamas under his father’s red velvet smoking jacket. He was holding up a crucifix, the only thing keeping two Nosferatu from pouncing on him and draining him to the last drop of blood.

Heavy footsteps and more gunshots sounded in the hall. Weatherby turned to face me. “Mort!” he cried, terror making his voice high and nervous. “Evelyn! Henry Wallace! Selena! They’re all out there! We have to help them!” They were his family. If I wasn’t careful, he’d be orphaned again.

But first I had to save him. “Kiss the carpet, kiddo!” I ordered, raising the tommy gun.