Laura pulled on the door and I was pretty sure that with vampire strength she might be able to pry it open if she had enough time. But she didn’t.
She froze before slowly turning around to face me, pressing backward against the door. Her eyes were very wide.
“Sarah, please,” she began.
The fear on her face confused me deeply. “What’s going on, Laura? Why did you come here?”
She blinked, then rubbed at her eyes. Her black mascara had run from her tears. “Please, Sarah. Please—don’t kill me.”
Um…what?
It really didn’t sound like a “Please don’t kill me for framing your fiancé for murder.” It sounded more like a “Please don’t kill me. Period.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” I assured her, uncertain now.
She frowned. “You’re not? But I thought that you…that you and Thierry…”
“That me and Thierry what?”
“When he had Bernard killed, I figured that I became a loose end—that I knew too much, or something. If he was willing to do that to my husband, then it meant that I really didn’t know you like I thought I did. That you were capable of anything. I know what it’s like to be involved with such a powerful man, Sarah. They can make you do bad things. Things you might not normally do.”
Confusion rained down over me. “So you’re trying to tell me that you thought Thierry sent me after you to…kill you.”
“I’ll scream.” Her voice shook. “I swear I will.”
My first suspect in the murder of Bernard DuShaw had all but convinced me in record time that not only was she pathetic and weak and needy, but she was also totally innocent of her husband’s murder.
Now what?
Chapter 9
“I ’m not going to kill you.” I said it again. “Seriously, I’m not.”
That something like this had to be stated so bluntly was disturbing.
Laura began to calm down. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. If she really was innocent in all of this, I felt bad that I’d upset her so much.
“Then why did you follow me here?” she asked, her voice trembling.
I nodded at a small table to our left. “Give me five minutes.”
“For what?”
“I need to talk to you.”
Her breathing slowed to a normal rate and her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Why should I talk to you? Your fiancé murdered my husband.”
My fading antagonism toward her flared inside me like a tiny pissed-off demon. “He was set up.”
She gave me a look then—one of pity. “Oh, Sarah. You poor dear.”
I glared at her. “I’m not deluded. He didn’t do it.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue with me, but closed it. Her entire body sagged in defeat before she finally moved toward the table and sat down heavily. “I don’t even care who did it. It’s done. And now I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.”
My emotions were seriously on a roller-coaster ride today. Anger, to confusion, and right into sympathy. It was dizzying. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved him. This must be absolutely horrible for you.”
She looked older now than she had before. Drained and weary. “Loved him? Maybe once.”
I sat down across from her at the small round table. “What are you talking about?”
She exhaled shakily. “What I felt for Bernard…it had faded. A lot.”
“But the other night at dinner you said that everything was wonderful.”
“I know what I said. What else was I supposed to say? I’d only just met you—and you and Thierry seemed so happy together. Was I supposed to admit that my relationship was only a shadow of what it once was?”
I shook my head. “I’m surprised you’re admitting this to me.”
“What difference does it make anymore?” She glanced over toward the stage. “That man up there—Joe—he’s the one I really loved. Still love. But I left him for Bernard.”
I glanced over at the muscular man directing things onstage. “Who is he?”
“A nobody. Or, at least, he used to be. I worked as a dancer five years ago. He was a bouncer then. We were lovers—more than that.”
“So what happened?”
“Bernard happened. He came and saw one of the shows, and then made it known afterward that he wanted me.”
“Wait a minute. I thought you said you met in Central Park.”
“I lied. It sounded prettier than the truth—that he was a rich customer at a strip club.”
More surprise flooded through me. “You were a…stripper?”
Laura shrugged a shoulder. “Despite what you might think, it’s an honest living. I’m not ashamed of it—but Bernard insisted I change my ways. I quit and broke up with Joe, all for the chance to be with Bernard.”
“Because you fell in love with him?”
“The thickness of his wallet helped a lot.” Her bleak expression told me she took no pleasure in sharing this, but had some inner drive to get it out as if I were a priest in a confessional booth who might absolve her of all sins. “Joe had sired me, but Bernard provided for me—money, jewelry, things I’d never had before. But he wasn’t faithful—and neither was I, to be honest, after a while. I took it as an even trade. I spent his money and he got to fool around without any complaints from me while he went on his assignments.”
I repressed a shudder at hearing that Laura had sold out true love for a rich husband. “That’s horrible.”
She looked at me sharply. “Get used to it, Sarah. That’s how it is with a master vampire—especially one that works for the Ring who must deal with certain stresses related to the job. Thierry’s no different.”
I bristled. “Wrong. He is.”
“Sure.” There was more bitterness in that one word than I’d ever heard before. “It would have been worth it for you, though. If he hadn’t killed Bernard, he would have provided for you, protected you, taken care of whatever you needed…and the world would have felt like it was yours for the asking. But when he’s gone”—she swallowed hard—“you find that you have nothing left and no one to look after you.”
I just stared at her. “So that’s why you came here—to see if Joe would take you back? So he could take care of you?”
Her expression was pale and hopeless. “I’m desperate, Sarah. Bernard’s will didn’t include me. I know it. And we had an airtight prenup. He was fond of me, but he never really loved me. Vampires who’ve lived as long as he had—they don’t trust anyone. They’re secretive about everything.”
The last part wasn’t exactly news to me, at least where Thierry was concerned. But this didn’t jibe with what I thought I knew about her husband.
“Bernard told me he that he was an open book with you about his past—that he’d told you almost everything about him.”
Laura shook her head. “More like an open checkbook. That’s all. I had no idea what he did during his days, past or present. I didn’t want to know. The Ring—” She grimaced. “They’re horrible, shadowy, scary. It’s best to stay out of their business as much as possible. Now that Bernard’s gone, I want to get as far away from anything to do with that organization as I can, but how am I supposed to do that without any money or protection?” She glanced at the stage again. “Joe will take me back. It’s only been five years. He’ll remember how good we were together. He produces shows now—it was always a dream of his. The one they’re rehearsing today—it’s a vampire show called Fang that he’s producing with a partner. An all-vampire topless revue. I could do that—I’d be great at it. I just need to figure out how to get Joe to give me another chance.”
An all-vampire topless revue? A worrying thought occurred to me. “They’re not promoting it as having real vampires in it, are they?”
“Of course not. The Ring would have a meltdown if they did. But there’s that air of mystery about it maybe having real vampires. Rumors are okay. Hopefully, it’ll sell tickets—although I know interest in
vampires is waning. To think that vampires are practically mainstream now.” She gazed up at the stage, worry creasing her forehead. “Hard to believe. I hope the show finds its audience—for Joe’s sake.”
I fixed her with a questioning look as I tried to figure her out. Was there more to Laura than met the eye? Was she holding something back from me right now? Or was this exactly who she was? A recently widowed woman in dire need of a powerful and influential man to protect her from the big, scary, expensive world?
As if she felt my stare, she glanced at me again. “Why did you follow me here, Sarah?”
“Because I thought you had Bernard killed and pinned it on Thierry,” I said bluntly.
Her eyes widened. “Why on earth would I do something like that?”
“That’s exactly what I was wondering.”
“I didn’t love him—and I knew he didn’t love me, not really—but I never wanted him to die. Without him, I have nothing.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I am nothing.”
Her pain was so palpable it made me wince. “Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true.” Her gaze grew more intense and she surprised me by reaching across the table to clutch my hand. “Learn from this, Sarah. It doesn’t have to happen to you, too. Put money aside for a rainy day. Steal, if you have to. And don’t trust Thierry, ever. He’ll lie, he’ll cheat. Those who’ve lived that long will do whatever they have to do to continue existing. You’re just a plaything to him—something he finds interesting now. Soon you’ll be exactly where I am.”
Her harsh and cold words hit me one by one like sharp icicles. However, there was a difference that I’d heard in her story that helped deflect them. Bernard didn’t love her, but I knew Thierry loved me. I knew it—not just because he told me so, but because I felt it deep in my gut. I clung to that knowledge like a life preserver.
I shook my head. “Bernard and Thierry are different.”
“You’re right. Thierry’s twice as old, so he might be even worse. Be very careful with him. Bernard didn’t tell me much, Sarah, but he did tell me how much he hated your fiancé. How much he feared for his life knowing he’d be near him again after all these years.”
This entire conversation was making me nauseous. “Feared? Seriously?”
She nodded gravely. “And believe me, Bernard wasn’t afraid of much, not after being the Ring’s errand boy for fifty years. Be on your guard at all times, Sarah. Plan ahead. Be wary of the man you’ve given your heart to. Take it away while you still have the chance before he tears it apart.” She nodded as if agreeing with everything she was saying. “It’s for the best that he was caught for this crime. He’ll be executed by the enforcer soon and you’ll be free to start your life somewhere else. Find yourself another man who will cherish you and provide for you. Don’t be like me.”
That she was offering this advice as if she was doing me some sort of favor put a rancid taste in my mouth. Everything she said or intimated, from Thierry being a hateful and violent murderer, to me needing a man to take care of me in order to survive—it all turned my stomach.
“I need to go.” I pushed back from the table. I didn’t have too many amusing wisecracks or clever remarks to offer at the moment that might help to lighten the mood. There was absolutely nothing funny about any of this. What I really wanted to do was go back to my room at the Glitter motel, curl into a tight ball, and fall asleep, hoping that when I woke everything would be better.
“You should take this.” She reached into her purse and put something small and metallic on the table. “I don’t want it. Bernard always carried it with him—it was found among his…remains. I know it has something to do with Thierry and that just makes my skin crawl.”
It was a small silver key—a safety-deposit box key, maybe? Was this the one that Bernard had to the safe filled with cursed diamonds? The reason for his and Thierry’s violent argument the night before he was murdered?
“Who did this, Laura?” I asked, forcing myself to sound strong. “Who killed Bernard?”
Her lips thinned. “A hunter who was associated with your fiancé killed him. A hunter known to take money for doing the dirty work of vampires and humans alike.”
I already knew that. Laura couldn’t be any more help to me. In fact, I think she’d succeeded in making everything much worse.
I snatched the key off the table and slid it into my pocket. Then as I looked at Laura, some remaining concern for her well-being sneaked past my distaste for everything she’d shared with me. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She looked up at me, her eyes glossy. “Find me a time travel machine so I can go back five years and not marry a master vampire who sold his soul to work for the Ring. My life would have gone in a much different direction if I hadn’t.”
My throat felt thick. “Sorry. I’m all out of time travel machines this week.”
She offered me a weak smile. “Then there’s nothing you can do. Good luck, Sarah.”
“You too.”
After everything she’d said, my belief in Thierry’s innocence and general awesomeness hadn’t budged. But my belief in myself? Budge city.
I turned away from the broken (and broke) vampire in the Chanel blouse, Louboutin heels, and smeared makeup, feeling uneasily like I was walking away from my future self.
“Oh my gosh! That was so much fun!” Victoria exclaimed as I retrieved her from the Funtime Zone.
“Hooray for you,” I said dryly. “You done?”
“I could stay here all day. And I made friends—ones who aren’t envious of my wicked pageant skills. That’s Eddie there, and Britney. Hey guys!”
The other children waved at her.
“Excuse me.” One of the gray-haired women approached with a pursed and sour look on her face. “If you’re going to leave your daughter here, you need to fill out a form first. And you need to be a hotel guest. Are you a hotel guest?”
I stared at her. My brain wasn’t working at full capacity at the moment after my nausea-inducing discussion with Laura. “Hotel guest…yes, I sure am. And sorry about this. My little Vicky, she loves…rubber balls. They’re a magnet for her. Thanks so much for looking after her.”
She glared at me. “You’re not a very attentive mother, are you?”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Your daughter deserves better.”
“Trust me, she really doesn’t.”
“Where’s her father?”
“Deep-sea diving accident. Let’s just say that he found Nemo the hard way. Bye, now.”
Taking Victoria by her arm, I directed her out of the day care and back to the lobby of the hotel. She was pouting.
“Stop pouting,” I said. “I’m the one who should be pouting right now.”
“Oh, right.” She looked up at me curiously. “How did things go with the black widow?”
“She said she didn’t do it.”
“Lies!” she cried.
“No, she wasn’t lying. She really didn’t do it.” I raked a hand through my hair, getting caught on a tangle I’d developed. “She’s pitiful and needy and I can’t help but feel sorry for her, even though I wouldn’t exactly say she’s grieving Bernard for the right reasons. She wasn’t any help.”
Victoria crossed her arms over the embroidered sunflower on the front of her pink dress. “Well, damn.”
“Exactly.”
“Any clues at all?”
“No. She thinks Thierry did it.”
“Maybe he did.”
I glowered at her as we exited the hotel and started walking along the sidewalk. I’d get us another taxi, but I currently had no idea whatsoever about where we should go next. “I thought we’d settled that.”
“Well, somebody hired that hunter.” Victoria paused. “I guess you could find him and ask him who.”
A chill went down my spine. “Ask the hunter who hired him?”
“That’s exactly what I’m—Ooh, look over there! Pretty balloons! Can I hav
e one? Can I?” She scampered off toward a group of street performers, all dressed as clowns that reminded me of Mr. Chuckles from the other day. There were many happy happy balloons here and the bright colors had caught Victoria’s eye.
A crowd of fifteen watched the clowns perform their impromptu street show of magic and juggling. One balanced on a unicycle while juggling five eggs. But I was too tense to enjoy it. I thought through everything I’d learned—or not learned—from Laura DuShaw, former stripper-with-fangs.
I scanned the street, looking for anyone associated with Markus who might be looking for me. Call me paranoid. I didn’t see his henchmen in the general area, which was a relief. However, I did see a familiar face heading our way. It was Charles.
All I saw when I looked at him was the moment he’d sliced that knife into Thierry’s chest. I knew he’d done it to protect Victoria, but it didn’t leave me feeling all that friendly toward him…What was he, anyway? Her personal assistant? Her pageant coach? Her hired daddy? All of the above?
I didn’t like him at all.
A big smile grew on Victoria’s face when she spotted him. “Charles!”
She ran toward him and gave him a big hug. Despite myself, my heart warmed up at the sight of it. Victoria was a strange creature—just when I thought she was a no-nonsense she-devil in a pint-sized body, she kept having these very childlike moments that reminded me what she’d said was absolutely true—she was still just a six-year-old with a bit more world experience.
“Victoria, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, patting her head affectionately before he looked at me. “Thanks for looking after her.”
“You’re welcome. Where have you been?”
“Around.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you mind watching over Victoria for a bit longer? I need an hour to take care of some business.”
“She doesn’t mind.” Victoria did the honors of answering for me. “Hey, do you know where we might be able to find that hunter from last night? The one who killed the guy from the Ring?”
Charles blanched a little. “You don’t want to find him, kiddo. He’s a bad man.”
“I know, but hypothetically. Where do hunters hang in Vegas?”