Dead Ice
Page 67
I let Nicky get the door, but he didn’t hold it for me; he went through first, and then I came through, catching the door behind him. He was still technically my bodyguard and he could also take more damage than I could and keep moving, so letting him go through first just made sense. Manny came behind me, and Domino brought up the rear.
The hostess hurried toward us, her face worried. We just so looked like trouble. “Is everything all right, officers?”
I smiled as bright as I would at any client, and said, “We’re just looking for some friends, need to touch base.” It was vague but gave her something normal to concentrate on.
She nodded as if it made perfect sense, one hand smoothing her long brown hair back behind her ear. “Who are you looking for?”
Nicky shook his head. He didn’t see the zombie, or the clients. I couldn’t remember if Denny’s took reservations, but I said, “It’s a large party under the name MacDougal, or Willis.”
She relaxed. “Oh yes, they’re in the back. We needed one of the big tables.” She grabbed menus as if we were staying for food. I didn’t tell her different; I’ve found that if you can let people do normal things they’re more comfortable around the guns and badges. It didn’t hurt to give her the illusion that everything was normal—maybe it was, except for the zombie. If the health department found out about it, they would close them down until they sterilized the whole place top to bottom.
We followed the hostess to the back room with its bigger tables. It used to be where they sent smokers, but once you couldn’t smoke inside anymore it just became more table space. I saw Owen MacDougal first; even sitting down he was the biggest guy at the table. I looked around the table for the zombie and didn’t see the black suit jacket, just polo shirts, T-shirts, and the women in some blouses. Ethel Willis, the cow lover from earlier, wasn’t with the group. Maybe seeing the cow slaughtered had been too much for her?
MacDougal raised his hand in greeting at me, smiling, and only when the man beside him turned and looked at me did I realize that was the zombie. They’d let him change clothes. I hadn’t recognized him in the Ramones T-shirt. My heart just stopped for a beat; the fear went through me in a rush that left my fingertips tingling.
I swallowed hard and whispered to Manny, “Pick out the zombie.”
“What?”
“Pick out the zombie.”
Manny looked at me, but when I nodded him toward the group, he looked that way. I walked around the table to take MacDougal’s offered hand. He was terribly pleased with himself. “Ms. Blake, I didn’t expect to see you again tonight, and not in full marshal gear.” A tiny frown touched his face. “Is everything all right?”
I gave him the full client smile, the one that actually reaches my eyes. “I was out on other business when I got the call that you were out at a restaurant, not a place most clients take, um, mutual friends, so I thought we’d stop by, see how things were going, since we were in the area.”
One of the women at the table said, “Everything is great.” She smiled and laid a hand on the arm near her on the table.
The zombie smiled back at her, damn near as warmly.
My phone binged, and I checked it. Manny’s text read, “I can’t tell.”
I smiled into the face of the man that I’d raised from the dead and wondered, could I have told if I hadn’t known? Would I have picked him out of the smiling, laughing group? I tried to see them with clear eyes, but I couldn’t. I looked into Thomas Warrington’s happy, alive face, and fought to keep the horror off mine. What the hell had I done?
The woman who touched him had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Her face was young and pretty, eyes a solid brown, but they were all alight as she touched the dead man beside her. I was engaged to a vampire, who was I to bitch, but the sight of her hand on his arm chilled me. I wondered if that was how some people felt when they saw me holding hands with Jean-Claude. I hoped not, because I was truly horrified as the zombie put his hand over hers on the table. Fuck.
I moved around until I was next to MacDougal, so I could lean over and talk low. I kept smiling and being pleasant as I said, “It’s illegal to bring a zombie into a restaurant.”
MacDougal turned and looked at me, face shocked. “I must really protest the word being used for Tom.”
I smiled harder. “I understand that he passes for human, which is really cool, but legally if the health department finds out that a zombie has been in a restaurant, then they have to close the place down.”
“But surely not in this case.”
“I know that he looks good enough to pass, but the law doesn’t differentiate between a rotting corpse that could potentially carry disease and . . . Tom here.”
MacDougal looked around the restaurant. “I didn’t know.”
“If I’d dreamt you’d take the zombie out for a meal, I’d have mentioned it.”
The zombie said, “Miss Blake, can I thank you again for this unexpected reprieve?”
I looked into his face, the clear hazel of his eyes, brown and green all mixed together. His longish blond hair looked freshly washed and dried. Had he showered the grave dirt off himself? If so, he was holding up very well; most zombies begin to disintegrate if you add water. “Reprieve is an interesting word.”
“The appropriate word, though, I think, Ms. Blake.”
I studied his face, and finally just looked into those brown eyes with their edge of green. I tried to see beyond the color, the smile, the energy, and into his soul, if he had one.
Manny came up beside me. “Anita, introduce me.”
I introduced him to the ones whose names I remembered. The others offered their names. I threw Warrington in the middle somewhere, and Manny never blinked at him. It was only when he shook his hand that I saw Manny’s shoulders shift, ever so slightly. I doubted anyone else noticed it.
Justine was the name of the woman who was holding hands with Warrington. Manny raised an eyebrow at me, widening his eyes a bit at them. I gave a small nod, letting him know I’d seen it. We’d worked together for years, so that was enough. Again, I doubted anyone at the table saw what passed between us. Nicky was the only one who might have followed it all.
I hadn’t bothered to introduce Nicky and Domino. First, because they hadn’t asked, and second, because you didn’t introduce security. You wanted them to be grim and unfriendly; if you gave them names it humanized them and took some of the threat factor away. They were just waiting to be sent to the car for more firepower, or to go outside with the zombie and us, and for that they didn’t need to be anyone’s friend.
“Mr. MacDougal, Mr. Warrington, could I speak with you outside for a minute?” I was still smiling as I asked.
MacDougal got up immediately, but Warrington didn’t. He put a hand over Justine’s hand where it rested on his arm. It was a possessive gesture, and I didn’t like it one little bit. Had they already done more than hold hands? God, I hoped not. There was no way for this to end that wouldn’t be bad.
“Mr. Warrington, come outside with us.”
“I’m fine here, Ms. Blake, or should I say, Marshal Blake?”
“Either will do, Mr. Warrington, but we really do need a few minutes outside to talk in private.”
The hostess hurried toward us, her face worried. We just so looked like trouble. “Is everything all right, officers?”
I smiled as bright as I would at any client, and said, “We’re just looking for some friends, need to touch base.” It was vague but gave her something normal to concentrate on.
She nodded as if it made perfect sense, one hand smoothing her long brown hair back behind her ear. “Who are you looking for?”
Nicky shook his head. He didn’t see the zombie, or the clients. I couldn’t remember if Denny’s took reservations, but I said, “It’s a large party under the name MacDougal, or Willis.”
She relaxed. “Oh yes, they’re in the back. We needed one of the big tables.” She grabbed menus as if we were staying for food. I didn’t tell her different; I’ve found that if you can let people do normal things they’re more comfortable around the guns and badges. It didn’t hurt to give her the illusion that everything was normal—maybe it was, except for the zombie. If the health department found out about it, they would close them down until they sterilized the whole place top to bottom.
We followed the hostess to the back room with its bigger tables. It used to be where they sent smokers, but once you couldn’t smoke inside anymore it just became more table space. I saw Owen MacDougal first; even sitting down he was the biggest guy at the table. I looked around the table for the zombie and didn’t see the black suit jacket, just polo shirts, T-shirts, and the women in some blouses. Ethel Willis, the cow lover from earlier, wasn’t with the group. Maybe seeing the cow slaughtered had been too much for her?
MacDougal raised his hand in greeting at me, smiling, and only when the man beside him turned and looked at me did I realize that was the zombie. They’d let him change clothes. I hadn’t recognized him in the Ramones T-shirt. My heart just stopped for a beat; the fear went through me in a rush that left my fingertips tingling.
I swallowed hard and whispered to Manny, “Pick out the zombie.”
“What?”
“Pick out the zombie.”
Manny looked at me, but when I nodded him toward the group, he looked that way. I walked around the table to take MacDougal’s offered hand. He was terribly pleased with himself. “Ms. Blake, I didn’t expect to see you again tonight, and not in full marshal gear.” A tiny frown touched his face. “Is everything all right?”
I gave him the full client smile, the one that actually reaches my eyes. “I was out on other business when I got the call that you were out at a restaurant, not a place most clients take, um, mutual friends, so I thought we’d stop by, see how things were going, since we were in the area.”
One of the women at the table said, “Everything is great.” She smiled and laid a hand on the arm near her on the table.
The zombie smiled back at her, damn near as warmly.
My phone binged, and I checked it. Manny’s text read, “I can’t tell.”
I smiled into the face of the man that I’d raised from the dead and wondered, could I have told if I hadn’t known? Would I have picked him out of the smiling, laughing group? I tried to see them with clear eyes, but I couldn’t. I looked into Thomas Warrington’s happy, alive face, and fought to keep the horror off mine. What the hell had I done?
The woman who touched him had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Her face was young and pretty, eyes a solid brown, but they were all alight as she touched the dead man beside her. I was engaged to a vampire, who was I to bitch, but the sight of her hand on his arm chilled me. I wondered if that was how some people felt when they saw me holding hands with Jean-Claude. I hoped not, because I was truly horrified as the zombie put his hand over hers on the table. Fuck.
I moved around until I was next to MacDougal, so I could lean over and talk low. I kept smiling and being pleasant as I said, “It’s illegal to bring a zombie into a restaurant.”
MacDougal turned and looked at me, face shocked. “I must really protest the word being used for Tom.”
I smiled harder. “I understand that he passes for human, which is really cool, but legally if the health department finds out that a zombie has been in a restaurant, then they have to close the place down.”
“But surely not in this case.”
“I know that he looks good enough to pass, but the law doesn’t differentiate between a rotting corpse that could potentially carry disease and . . . Tom here.”
MacDougal looked around the restaurant. “I didn’t know.”
“If I’d dreamt you’d take the zombie out for a meal, I’d have mentioned it.”
The zombie said, “Miss Blake, can I thank you again for this unexpected reprieve?”
I looked into his face, the clear hazel of his eyes, brown and green all mixed together. His longish blond hair looked freshly washed and dried. Had he showered the grave dirt off himself? If so, he was holding up very well; most zombies begin to disintegrate if you add water. “Reprieve is an interesting word.”
“The appropriate word, though, I think, Ms. Blake.”
I studied his face, and finally just looked into those brown eyes with their edge of green. I tried to see beyond the color, the smile, the energy, and into his soul, if he had one.
Manny came up beside me. “Anita, introduce me.”
I introduced him to the ones whose names I remembered. The others offered their names. I threw Warrington in the middle somewhere, and Manny never blinked at him. It was only when he shook his hand that I saw Manny’s shoulders shift, ever so slightly. I doubted anyone else noticed it.
Justine was the name of the woman who was holding hands with Warrington. Manny raised an eyebrow at me, widening his eyes a bit at them. I gave a small nod, letting him know I’d seen it. We’d worked together for years, so that was enough. Again, I doubted anyone at the table saw what passed between us. Nicky was the only one who might have followed it all.
I hadn’t bothered to introduce Nicky and Domino. First, because they hadn’t asked, and second, because you didn’t introduce security. You wanted them to be grim and unfriendly; if you gave them names it humanized them and took some of the threat factor away. They were just waiting to be sent to the car for more firepower, or to go outside with the zombie and us, and for that they didn’t need to be anyone’s friend.
“Mr. MacDougal, Mr. Warrington, could I speak with you outside for a minute?” I was still smiling as I asked.
MacDougal got up immediately, but Warrington didn’t. He put a hand over Justine’s hand where it rested on his arm. It was a possessive gesture, and I didn’t like it one little bit. Had they already done more than hold hands? God, I hoped not. There was no way for this to end that wouldn’t be bad.
“Mr. Warrington, come outside with us.”
“I’m fine here, Ms. Blake, or should I say, Marshal Blake?”
“Either will do, Mr. Warrington, but we really do need a few minutes outside to talk in private.”
