Dark Currents

Page 9

Walrus Mustache blocked Cody’s path with a pool cue. “Mind telling us what this is about, Officer?”
“Just need you to look at a few photos, tell me if you recognize anyone.”
He gave the photos a dismissive glance. “Nah, these look like college boys. What are some college pussies doing in a place like this?”
“You tell me,” Cody said in an even voice.
“Lemme see.” One of the skanks pushed her way forward. She was twenty-something going on forty, haggard before her time. “I seen some college boys in here a couple of weeks ago.”
Walrus Mustache rounded on her. “You do what you’re told, Loretta!”
Fear flared in her eyes, then faded, replaced by a vacant contentment. “I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t mean nothing by it.”
A rich, molten tide of anger rose in me, driving out fear. The atmosphere tightened as I stepped out from behind Cody. Behind the bar, the bartender swore as the seal on one of his kegs burst.
I raised my voice. “Let her look at the photos, you big fucking bully!”
Al the Walrus turned that avid gaze on me, his pupils glittering as he licked his lips with a thick tongue. “Says who?” I felt my anger draining against my will, and a sheen of pleasure glazed his eyes. “Oh, you’re a tasty morsel!”
A spike of terror jolted me. I willed it to feed my anger, loosing a barrage of fury I hadn’t indulged in since adolescence, and held up my rune-marked left hand. “Hel’s liaison, asshole!”
Fear flickered in his eyes, and his pupils shrank.
Cody plucked the pool cue deftly from the Walrus’s hand, a glint of phosphorescence in his own eyes. “Would that be an authority you’d respect?”
From the back of the bar came a deep chuckle. The man sitting in the shadows rose and came toward us, moving with a practiced fighter’s loose-limbed ease. “Stand down, man.” He clapped one hand on the Walrus’s shoulder. “No feeding on the unwilling, remember? They’re just doing their jobs.”
The man from the shadows had a hint of an accent I couldn’t place, something Eastern European, maybe, worn smooth by the patina of time. Definitely not a local. He was tall and broad shouldered, well built without being muscle-bound. Like the others, he wore a leather vest with an Outcast patch over a T-shirt and jeans, but somehow he made it look more of a fashion statement, less of a lifestyle choice. He had high, rugged cheekbones, black hair he wore a little too long, and pale ice-blue eyes, the kind you see on husky dogs sometimes.
Okay, that’s a terrible comparison, but the point is, he was gorgeous.
He was also a motherfucking ghoul.
I swallowed against a surge of attraction and fear, altogether losing my grip on fury. Beside me, Cody bristled. I stood, braced in numb horror, expecting the man from the shadows to drink my emotions, but he only waited with an expression of patient amusement while I wrestled myself under control.
That avid spark in his ice-blue eyes was there, no mistaking it, but this ghoul was no slave to his appetites. I had a feeling he was very, very old.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded.
He turned to Cody, looking him up and down. “Interesting. Very interesting. May I have a look at those photos, Officer?”
Cody handed over the file. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before. You got a name, son?”
“Son.” The ghoul laughed deep in his chest. “Yes, Officer. My name is Stefan. Stefan Ludovic. I haven’t been in Pemkowet long, but I hope to stay here.” He scrutinized the photos. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen these boys.” He beckoned. “Loretta?”
Loretta came forward with alacrity, peering at the photos. “Yeah, them’s the ones. Them two, anyway.” She pointed at Thad Vanderhei and Mike Huizenga. “They was asking for Ray D. I don’t remember the skinny little guy.”
I whipped out my notepad, jotting notes.
“Ray D.” Cody rubbed his chin. “Is he dealing meth again?”
“Not in my territory.” Stefan the ghoul’s voice went flat, his pupils shrinking. “The nectar of chemically induced emotions is poisonous.”
Cody gave him a speculative look. “So you’re new in town, but this is already your turf?”
Stefan waved one negligent hand. “Does anyone dispute it?”
No one did, although a couple of them, like Al the Walrus, didn’t look too happy about it.
By the time Cody was through questioning Loretta, it was established that Thad and Mike had been in the bar looking for Ray D two weeks ago Saturday, but had failed to find him, because no one had seen Ray D for several months. No one knew where he was living or how to contact him, and no one knew why a couple of college kids were looking for him, or at least no one would admit to it. As far as they were concerned, no one even knew whether Ray D had a last name.
New-ghoul-in-town Stefan was adamant that Ray D wasn’t dealing on his turf, and the weird thing was, I thought he meant it. There’s a long-established connection among ghouls, biker gangs, and drug dealing, what with a lucrative illegal activity that sows misery being the perfect confluence of ghoulish interests, but Stefan appeared dead earnest about the whole poisonous-nectar business.
Also weirdly, I found that sort of hot in a creepy way. I know. So wrong, but true.
“Thanks for the cooperation,” Cody said to Stefan. “It’s appreciated.”
The ghoul inclined his head. “Anytime, Officer.” His ice-blue gaze settled on me, his pupils dilating. “And it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss . . . ?”
“Johanssen,” I said. “Daisy.”
He gave his deep chuckle. “Daisy?”
“Uh-huh.” The way he was looking at me made my insides squirm, not entirely unpleasantly.
“Daisy,” Stefan repeated. “I hope our paths cross again.” He smiled. “For less unfortunate reasons, of course.”
“I think we’re done here.” Cody’s tone was brusque. “We’ll be in touch if there’s anything further.”
“Of course.”
On the way out of the bar, I spied a fishbowl filled with matchbooks and grabbed one, figuring it couldn’t hurt to compare it to the matchbook found in Thad Vanderhei’s pocket. The muttonchopped bartender, busy mopping up a prodigious amount of spilled beer, startled and then glared at me. I guess my little temper tantrum caused more than one keg to blow its seal. I gave him a half-assed apologetic shrug and followed Cody out the door.
No, I did not successfully fight the urge to look back and see if Stefan the hunky ghoul was watching me, and yes, he was.
Eight
“Okay, you were right; that was productive,” I said as we pulled out of the parking lot. “We’ve got an actual lead.”
“Mm-hmm.” Cody didn’t sound as pleased as I’d expected.
“What?”
“If Loretta’s telling the truth, Thad and Mike came into the bar looking for Ray D. They claim no one’s seen him for months; no one knew how to get in touch with him.” Cody reached over and tapped the matchbook I was holding. “But Thad and Mike appear to have left with a phone number.”
“So someone’s lying,” I said.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe they got the number from someone who wasn’t there today, and Loretta didn’t see it.”
I flipped open my notepad and glanced at the list I’d made of all the patrons Loretta remembered being in the bar that afternoon. “Are we going to question all of these people?”
“If we have to.”
It had already been a long day of questioning witnesses, and we had all the other bars to revisit. It made my head ache. “I didn’t realize regular police work would be quite so tedious,” I admitted.
Cody smiled. “You watch too many movies.”
“You don’t watch enough,” I retorted. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure! It’s a classic.”
“If you say so.”
“Yes, Mr. Laconic. I do.” I studied his profile. “So what did you think of Stefan Ludovic?”
He stopped smiling. “Didn’t like him; don’t trust him.” He glanced at me. “For someone who claims not to like ghouls, you gave a pretty convincing performance to the contrary.”
Ooh, alpha-male jealousy! A tingle ran down my spine, culminating in a burst of pleasure at the base of my tail. “What are you talking about?” I scoffed disingenuously. “I barely spoke to him.”
“Uh-huh.” Cody’s expression turned wry. “Thing is, I can’t figure out if he was being helpful to pull rank in the Outcasts or just to impress you.” He drove across the bridge and crossed into the left lane, signaling for the turn to downtown Pemkowet. “Or maybe it’s something else altogether. Maybe he’s trying to throw us off the scent.”
I shook my head. “I get the impression he’s clever enough for it. Loretta, not so much.”
“Good point.”
It felt good to earn Cody’s nod of approval—not in a needy, daddy-issues kind of way, just in a general-validation way. “So far, we don’t make too bad a team, do we?”
His lips twitched. “I have to admit, I liked the way you stood up to Al.”
That had felt good, too, but I couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if Stefan hadn’t intervened.
We parked at the station and made another round of the bars on foot. By now, word had spread, and the bartenders and waitstaff were expecting us. Tim Bradley at the Merryman was fairly sure he hadn’t served any of the three, but a waitress named Lucy Briggs working the outside deck thought she might remember them. No one at Bob’s Bar and Grill could make a positive ID. Rosalind Meeks, the first bartender we asked at Bazooka Joe’s, where the threesome had allegedly been for last call, just laughed at us.
“End of the night? Are you kidding me?” She gestured around. It was a vast, cavernous space smelling of stale beer and mildewed carpets. “If they came in now, sure, I might remember them. But last call?” She shook her head. “This place is wall-to-wall with college kids, and let me tell you, they all look alike after a while.”