Matters of the Blood Page 11

  "Why don't we compare those to the deposits,” Carlton said. “That might show us if everything matches."

  Tucker stood up. “While you two do that, mind if I stretch my legs a bit and wander around outside?"

  "Sounds like a plan, bro,” I said, reading between the lines. Tucker needed to get out in the fresh air. He'd been cooped up indoors for too long. Besides, while he was out there, he could snoop around.

  I smiled at him. “We shouldn't be too much longer.” Tucker left the office and I turned back to Carlton. “Why don't I read off the names and amounts and see if you can match them to deposits?"

  Carlton took off his Stetson and put it down on the floor beside him. “Shoot."

  "Willner, total, $7,345.54. A deposit of $4,000 on April twenty-second, then a balance payment on May first."

  "Check,” he said. “Both numbers are here.

  "Hinojosa, “$2,000, then balance of $2538.76."

  "Got it."

  "Tschirhart, “$6,000, then $6,653.47."

  "Damn, that's a lot of money,” Carlton said. “Hell, my dad's funeral was way cheaper than that."

  "Burials aren't cheap, Carlton,” I said. “Plus, the markup on this stuff is outrageous and Marty was pretty ruthless about upselling. I may not have liked him, but he knew his business. Besides, didn't your dad buy a pre-need service?"

  "He did. Between that and the allotment from the military, my brother and I didn't have to shell out any extra money. We bought a nice headstone instead."

  "That's the point of pre-needs. The family doesn't have to worry about all that money or making decisions in the middle of grieving. Marty used to try to sell them everywhere he could. It was kind of upfront money for him. He even bothered customers at the caf? until Bea put a stop to it."

  Carlton and I kept at it a while longer, matching each payment amount to corresponding amounts on the bank deposit tickets. Not a bad bit of change, but nothing outside normal parameters. About twenty funerals over the last four months. It sounded like a lot to me, but I recognized a lot of the names. Most of the folks had been rather elderly and their deaths were expected and these things seemed to happen in groups. Mr. Willner was nearly ninety, Honoria Hinojosa was seventy-eight. Ron Tschirhart was only sixty-three when he died, but I knew he'd been diagnosed with terminal cancer of some sort early this year.

  But no matter the income, the outgo was pretty hefty, too. I saw receipts for caskets, urns, embalming chemicals and cosmetics, the usual expenses for a working funeral home, not to mention the standard building-type overhead: gas, electric and water. I didn't want to sit there and figure out the margins, but from the looks of it, money was as tight as it always had been for Marty. I didn't see any evidence of how he'd paid for the redecorating or the electronics. He hadn't asked me for the money.

  I sighed, I was obviously not going to find the proverbial anonymous letter or “X” marking the spot. But a few minutes later, I found something even better.

  "Carlton, look at this,” I said, “This isn't Marty's regular business account. He's always banked locally.” I handed him a bank statement from a Houston bank.

  Carlton let out a low whistle. “Shit, that's a lot of money.” The balance, from last month, showed a sum just under $100,000. I took a quick look at the transactions printed on the front: several deposits, each one for several thousand dollars, all in even amounts—$5,000, $5,000, $7,500 and $10,000.

  "Where the hell did my cousin get that much cash?"

  "That's what I'd like to know,” said Carlton, as he carefully folded it up and tucked it into his pocket. He checked his watch. “It's late. I'll have to call the bank in the morning and see what I can find out. Money like this could easily provide a motive for murder."

  "Don't you need a warrant or something?"

  "Probably, but I'll call them first. Sometimes you get lucky."

  He turned to look at me, a strange look on his face. “You know, Keira, I'm beginning to think that if we keep looking, we may find a connection to the animal mutilations at the Wild Moon."

  "Excuse me?” As I said that, I realized that maybe he wasn't so far off the mark. Until now, I'd forgotten what Boris had said to me yesterday. “Tell him,” he'd said. Had he meant Marty? Damn. Could be. I didn't believe in coincidence. As far as Boris knew, there was no other “him” associated with me. He wouldn't have known Tucker was in town. Didn't know about Adam. Wouldn't put Carlton and me together since the Nagys hadn't come to town until after both Carlton and I had left. That only left Marty and my assumption that my cousin had been playing with the undead.

  Would vampires hunt deer? Hmm, now that was a thought. I suppose they could. There were plenty of deer roaming around Rio Seco County.

  "What makes you think the two are related?” I wanted to know what Carlton thought. I knew his theory couldn't even begin to touch mine.

  "I'm not sure I know what I mean.” He paused a moment then looked at me. “It's mostly a hunch. I told you those deer were completely blooded, like they'd been field-dressed. What I didn't say was that I didn't find a trace of spilled blood anywhere at the scene, just like here. Like Marty. I'm not a big fan of coincidence."

  He looked down at the file in his hands, avoiding my gaze. Well, then, our sheriff might just be able to put two and two together. The fact that in this instance, two and two were more likely to make something closer to pi, instead of the mundane “four” would probably be his undoing. Hard to explain this kind of crime by ordinary means, motive, and opportunity.

  I flashed back to my passenger of last night. Could Adam be involved in any way? He had come out to the mortuary in search of my cousin, but that could have been for any number of reasons. Mundane reasons. Reasons that had nothing to do with the fact my cousin was dead ... maybe. Damn it. Besides, Adam was human, and as far as I was concerned, this really was beginning to sound an awful lot like revenge. Revenge of a level of perversity that I could only attribute to clan, maybe not mine, but someone's family group. Creatures like us were the masters of warped payback, even more twisted than any human serial killer. When you lived nearly forever, you could spend time thinking of really sick things to do to your enemies, like treating them as if they were just another corpse to process.

  "I think I need to go back out there,” Carlton said.

  "Out to the Wild Moon?"

  Carlton scowled at me, but nodded. “Yeah, although I can't imagine why any of those rich tourists would have any reason to even know Marty, much less care enough to kill him."

  I could give him a couple, but wouldn't. Complete privacy at an exclusive resort ranch could hide many things, even from its owner and including the supernatural. If my cousin had done something to piss off a couple of predators, this was family business. I'd let Carlton follow his leads and if he pulled out a rabbit, I'd applaud. If what I suspected was right, this might end up being an unsolved murder—officially, anyway. I'd be doing my own hunting down of clues, at least until I could discover whether or not this was something to pursue further.

  "I can't rule anyone out, Keira. I do need to go out to the ranch before those tourists leave to go back to wherever they're from. Right now, I don't have enough reason to make anyone stay if they don't want to. People do tend to scatter when they hear there's a murder investigation."

  "I'm sure you'll do your best, Carlton."

  I started to gather up all the papers and stuff them back into the file drawer. He was going to do what he had to do. So was I. In the meantime, I was going to clean up the mess I'd made and then go back to my nice, quiet house, and figure out what to do next.

  "Hey, Keira, did you know anything about Derek Albright working for Marty?"

  Carlton had stopped filing away the papers and was looking at something that looked like a cancelled check.

  "I saw him here yesterday,” I said. “He told me he was working here. He's also working for Bea. He left right after I saw him. Why?"

  "Check this out."

&n
bsp; I looked where he was pointing. It was a check made out to Derek Albright for fifteen hundred dollars.

  "Well, shit,” I said. “Now, that's different. That's a hell of a lot of money for an errand-runner."

  "That's an understatement."

  Carlton stood up abruptly. Picking up his hat and jamming it on his head, he turned on his heel, pulled and walked out the door.

  "Wait,” I called after him. “Where are you going?"

  "To track down a pair of killers."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Wait!” I ran after him. “Do you really think the Albrights had something to do with killing Marty?"

  I just knew he was going down the wrong path. It didn't fit. Those two were too stupid to orchestrate anything this devious. Crimes of rage, maybe, bludgeoning someone to death, running someone over in a car, I could buy. They may have been taking money from Marty, but killing him?

  Carlton stopped and looked at me. “I don't know for sure, but I want to find out why your cousin was paying that much money to Derek Albright. Anything Derek's involved with usually means Dusty's right there with him.” He turned and pulled open the door to walk out.

  "Wait,” I exclaimed, “Let me shut off some lights and lock up. I'll be right back."

  I ran into Marty's office, turned off the lights and grabbed my backpack. Hurrying out the front door, I realized that Carlton was already in his truck and had started the engine. I flipped the lock, pulled the heavy door shut and brushed the yellow police tape out of my way.

  I walked over to the driver's side. “You'll keep me posted, right?” Not so much for Marty's sake, but for my own. I wanted to keep tabs on what Carlton was doing.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I'll let you know.” He sounded worried. “Look, be careful, Keira. If the Albright brothers are in any way part of this, it could be dangerous. I know those two are bad news. I think they've got some con or scam going, but I don't know what."

  I almost laughed. I was pretty sure I didn't have anything to worry about from the Albrights, but they weren't the only ones in this equation. Somewhere, someone or more than one someone, was the victim of some scheme thought up by my idiotic cousin and maybe carried out by his ex-con minions. Whatever that trio had been up to, I was sure that it had ultimately cost Marty his life.

  "A con I can believe, Carlton, but cold-blooded murder?"

  "It's possible,” Carlton replied. “I want to pick them up for questioning. Plus, I still have to get details from the bank in Houston about that account.” He put the truck in gear, but then stuck his head back out the window. “Keira, please be careful, okay?"

  "I will, Carlton,” I said, as I stepped back. He sped off. I watched the car disappear around the bend.

  "Where the hell was he going in such a hurry?” Tucker appeared from the side of the building.

  I told him what we'd found, including what Boris had said yesterday.

  "Hmm, Carlton may be right,” Tucker said.

  "Or he might just be chasing geese ... or humans.” I grinned at my brother. “I think we need to head in another direction."

  * * * *

  "Damn. He's not available."

  "What does that mean?"

  I'd tried to call Adam, but the phone clicked over to the operator at the Wild Moon.

  "The operator said he wouldn't be available until later in the evening.” I shrugged. “He'll call back. Besides, it's still daylight. What we're looking for won't be up and about until after sunset. It won't do us a heck of a lot of good to go out there now. We can wait."

  I reached over to turn the key to start the car. Suddenly, I fell back, a rush of energy washing over my body like steam rushing out of an overheated car. I gasped for air as the feeling on my skin turned from steam heat to shivers to a thousand fire ants crawling inside me, biting my skin trying to escape. The air felt too thick to breathe. This time, instead of the hyper-clarity of previous visions, it was as if layers of clear plastic surrounded me, blurring my ability to see.

  I could make out the inside of the car around me, but all the edges were soft, vague. My ears rang as phantom bells echoed in my brain. The scent and taste of blood washed over me, nearly covering me in its rich thickness. But the blood wasn't the same as what I'd tasted before. This blood came from something more than a prey animal. I couldn't identify it.

  Suddenly, just when I thought I was drowning in the thick blood-scented air, my ears popped as if I was in an airplane and everything was back to normal. There was nothing in my car but me and my brother.

  I took a breath. I was back.

  "Are you okay?” Tucker's voice was quiet, matter-of-fact. His cool hand pressed to my forehead felt good. “No fever. How do you feel?"

  I took a deep breath and tasted the air—normal. No blood, no anger. “Okay, I guess. Just a little achy, as if I'd been running or exercising."

  I could feel my tank top stuck against my back, dampening my flannel shirt. I must have sweated right through it. I wanted a shower and I wanted to figure out what the hell kind of vision that had been.

  "Pretty standard reaction,” he said.

  "Reaction?"

  "Hell, Keira, it's not exactly been a normal day, even with our twisted version of the word."

  I grinned. “Yeah, guess you're right, bro. I'm just not used to this stuff."

  "Look, let's just go to your house and chill for a while. You need the rest and maybe we can noodle out whatever's was going on with Marty."

  "Great idea,” I said, reaching for my seat belt.

  "Uh, Keira..."

  "Yeah?"

  "Maybe I should drive?"

  * * * *

  Tucker lounged on the wide leather armchair, his legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded easily across his chest. I sat across from him on the matching couch, sprawled along its length, my upper body propped up by a pile of Indian print cushions. Bea, who'd shown up just as we arrived back at my place, sat on the floor, her short legs tucked underneath her. I'd poured each of us a generous glass of wine.

  Bea was the first to talk. “I was thinking about something on the way over here. You don't think Marty tried to set up some weird witch cult or something again? Since he can't...?"

  Tucker laughed as I shook my head and sipped my wine. We both remembered the incident clearly. My great-great-granny had not been happy.

  "Like in high school? I doubt it, not after what happened to him when he got caught. Gigi threatened to cut off more than just money. I think it's more mundane than that."

  "Mundane, how?"

  "Well, either Marty was probably selling something to the rich and shameless out at the ranch or he found himself a vampire lover ... or both."

  "I vote for the vampire,” Tucker said.

  "A what?” Bea spluttered over a mouthful of wine. Her hands flew up to finger the small gold cross around her neck. “Madre de Dios,” she squeaked. “You are so not telling me that vampires are real."

  "I'm not?” I grinned at her, but then realized she was really freaked out. “Shit, Bea, yeah, sorry, I guess I thought you knew."

  "How the hell would I have known that?” she asked. “Jesus, Keira, how many Tuesday nights did we both watch Buffy on TV? And you never bothered to tell me that vampires are real?"

  "Nearly seven years,” I answered the easy question first. “Look, I'm sorry, but it never occurred to me that you didn't know since you know all about my clan. Vampires are just another type of supernatural creature. They're as real as I am. Not like on TV with the foreheads and all, but real. I used to hang out at a club in London—vampires and the like."

  "Great, a vampire club ... why does this not surprise me?” Bea stopped fingering her cross and stared at me, then at Tucker. “Do you think Marty was killed by one of them?"

  "It's a possibility,” Tucker said and told her what I'd seen on Marty's neck.

  "I'm thinking they might be what I saw in my nightmare,” I added.

&nb
sp; "But at the Wild Moon?” Bea's voice reflected the shock. “How would Adam not know?"

  Tucker looked at me and grinned a little, no doubt remembering my phone message.

  "Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't,” I said. “Didn't exactly bring that topic up in conversation. Besides, it's not hard for them to mainstream. If they're staying out at one of those guest houses, people might just think they're eccentric—or from Hollywood. There are an awful lot of pretentious dweebs in L.A. and New York that dress in black, sleep during the day and listen to Marilyn Manson. Hell, I'm like that and I'm not a vamp."

  "But you don't listen to Marilyn Manson. You're not human either.” She looked at Tucker. “Neither of you."

  He grinned at her and saluted with his wine glass. Bea grinned right back.

  I ignored the interplay between them. “Point taken, girlfriend. Of course, there are a whole lot of other things out in the world besides vamps. We haven't ruled out Marty being killed by a human. Those were probably vampire bites, but they weren't necessarily fatal. Carlton's weighing in on the Albrights. I don't agree."

  "The idiot brothers? Why?"

  "Money, why else? Evidently, cousin dearest was pumping hundreds of dollars Derek's way.” I told her about the canceled check.

  "Well, shit.” Bea sat back in the chair and took a big gulp of wine. “Could explain why those two skipped on work. I tried calling their apartment again, but there was no answer."

  "Maybe they're history,” Tucker said. “Could be they know what happened and took off."

  "Tucker's got a point, Bea,” I said. “Maybe you're better off with them gone."

  "Definitely,” she said. She took a gulp of her wine. “Keira, if Boris thinks there was a connection to the dead deer, do you think that Marty was just out at the ranch and saw something that he shouldn't? A predator that saw him back and wanted to silence him?"

  My brow furrowed. “Unlikely. What do you think, Tucker?"

  He agreed. “I'm not so sure that would be a motive for murder, a few threats or just laying low for a few days, maybe, but not killing. We pretty much tend to take these things in stride. We're good at hiding and keeping a low profile. Killing someone because they were peeping is not low profile stuff. There has to be another reason Marty was killed."