Fire Within
Page 9“Is something wrong?” she finally asked.
“Only got 30 minutes,” he said, as he sat down, his trousers pulling tightly over his ample thighs. “We have quotas in Appliance. I could get fired if I don’t make my quota.” He craned his neck toward the front door as if he might be missing a potential customer. “The boss is covering for me. He doesn’t like to do that.”
“OK, we’ll keep it brief. Tell me what you witnessed Saturday night at the Woodland Inn.”
“The shooting, you mean. Well, I really didn’t see it happen. I was inside having a beer with my friend Marty, and we heard the shots.”
“How many shots?”
“Three or four. Don’t remember exactly. Anyway, I stuck my head out the door to see what was happening. It was already over.” Hampton ran his finger around the collar of his shirt and tugged, as if it was hard to breathe.
Ari started wondering where the store’s defibrillator was. What would Hampton be like if he was the one in trouble? She wanted to get this interview over for both of them. “What did you see?” she prompted.
“That vampire, Lorraine West’s boyfriend, was on the ground. Blood on his head. And her brother Eddie was there. The officer told me the vamp was dead. I mean, really dead. I didn’t know they could be killed.”
Ari didn’t say anything. It was a normal misconception. In fact, there were three or four ways even humans could kill a vampire. Silver bullets was one. She didn’t enlighten him on the rest; the last thing she needed was citizens carrying stakes, flamethrowers, or swords to behead vampires. Even after the treaties, too many humans struggled with the concept of vampires-as-equals.
“Did you see a gun? Or any other weapon?”
“No. Funny, isn’t it? The cop asked me the same thing. Where’d it go?”
“You tell me. Did you see anyone else outside?”
“Is that possible? How long did you wait before looking outside? Seconds or minutes?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Seconds.” He wiped his forehead with one hand. “I was right next to the door. Oh, I see what you’re getting at. Should have seen somebody running away.”
If the killer or accomplice was human, yes. Ari considered whether someone could have blended with the crowd and slipped away during the excitement. But she didn’t think that was the answer. Bar customers were a tight bunch; they would have noticed a stranger. Certainly one with a gun.
“When you first saw Eddie, what was he doing?”
“Nothing. I guess he was looking at the body. I yelled at him, asked what happened, but he didn’t seem to hear me. I don’t think he talked to anyone. Not ‘til the cops came.”
“And, what did he tell them?”
“Couldn’t hear. Too noisy. And the cop pulled him off to the side.”
So the alleged confession couldn’t be corroborated by this witness and probably not by anyone else in the crowd. Maybe defense counsel could make something of that. Ari didn’t believe the officer had lied, but the defense lawyer could always raise the issue.
Hampton glanced at his watch. Ari asked him about other possible enemies of the vampire, but he frowned and shrugged, looked at his watch again. She gave up and sent him back to work. The interview had been a bust, except for one small detail: the weapon had been missing before the bar crowd spilled into the parking lot. That meant none of them took it.
That brought her up against the same blank wall. Where had it gone? Someone else had to be involved. A different shooter or an accomplice. Whoever it was, Eddie was protecting him or her. But why? Fear for his own life, protecting a friend? Or was Eddie being paid for his silence? As for potential accomplices, Ari couldn’t imagine Eddie hiring someone to do the job for him, and if he had, why would Eddie be caught at the scene? Nothing about this made sense, including the fact this imaginary person had gotten away without being seen. Unless the killer wasn’t human, someone with supernatural speed. But why would Eddie cover for an Otherworlder?
* * *
Just after the lunch hour, Ari rang the doorbell. Thelma West invited her in, offered coffee, and they were soon seated in her cozy kitchen, complete with colorful towels and a rooster cookie jar. For a moment, Ari envied the normal household Eddie and Lorraine must have had, until she remembered the alcoholic father. The home didn’t reflect any of that disruption. The thought gave her a new perspective, a reminder that sometimes appearances were only surface deep. If Mrs. West could successfully hide that flaw in their lives, what else was hidden behind her motherly mask? Ari picked up her coffee cup. Maybe she was getting too cynical.
“Great coffee,” she said, after the first sip.
Mrs. West smiled. “Thank you. I wish I had something else to offer you, but I took the brownies to Lorraine’s. She’s having so many callers.”
Ari studied Eddie’s mother. The signs of a traditional lifestyle were written all over her and her tidy kitchen. The dark blue dress, nylons, and low-heeled pumps were conservative. Ari wondered if she even owned a pair of jeans. Tailored slacks, maybe, but no jeans. The faded auburn hair, turning gray around the temples, was styled in short, tight curls. The woman’s manner was gracious, and Ari assumed it rarely changed regardless of the provocation.
“This is fine. And I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to your daughter.”
The woman’s smile faltered, but she nodded.
Ari walked her through the typical questions, learning Mrs. West had been no more happy than Eddie about the bonding, but she expressed resignation with her daughter’s decision. Although Mrs. West’s voice remained calm throughout, her lips pinched in disapproval when she talked about Jules. It wasn’t until Ari asked about Eddie that his mother lost her composure.
“Do you think Eddie killed him?” Ari asked without warning.
Mrs. West’s mouth opened in distress. “No, no, of course not. Eddie’s not responsible. I don’t know why he said he was.” She didn’t sound as sure of her conclusion as Lorraine. More hopeful, maybe. Tears glistened in the woman’s face, and she clasped her hands in a tight knot, revealing how brittle the serene exterior was. “First Ed, then Lorraine, now Eddie.” Her chin trembled. “I’ve lost them all.”
Ari’s discomfort with this drama must have registered, because Mrs. West took a deep breath and her voice steadied. “Please excuse me. I shouldn’t be burdening you with all this. It’s been difficult. I guess I’m not myself.” She pulled up a vague smile from somewhere. “Of course, it’s not as bleak as that. Lorraine will be fine. She has good friends and family. We’ll help her. And Eddie will be proven innocent. I have to believe the justice system will work. Everything’s going to be fine.” She dabbed with a tissue as the tears started to slide down her cheeks.
Ari figured that was her cue to leave. The woman was too distraught for Ari to get much more information, and Ari wasn’t good with tears. Mrs. West’s emotional swings were more than she wanted to handle.
“Yes, yes, that would be better. Thank you.” In another lightning switch, Mrs. West stood, whisked away the tears, and patted down her dress. She now was in a hurry. “Lorraine will be wondering where I am.”
Frowning over the woman’s erratic behavior, Ari saw herself out. As she closed the front door, Mrs. West was already reaching for her purse and keys.
* * *
Ari timed her arrival at Shale & Associates to allow time to look around. A misty aura of magic hung over the building, a sure sign that a significant number of Otherworlders were inside. She’d heard of the agency’s opening. Not much happened in the magic community that didn’t come to her ears sooner or later. A relatively new business, established within the last year, S & A specialized in advising mixed-species couples. Gossip had been mixed, and Ari was curious to see their set up. For some reason, Shale hadn’t applied to the Magic Council for approval or assistance. Since doing business within the Otherworld community didn’t require certification other than a city license, she’d had no reason or right to do an inspection. Today was her first time inside the doors.
At first glance, it resembled a community meeting center. Small waiting lobby, opening into a large common room; modern, commercial furnishings with plenty of seating; colorful paintings on the walls; and conversational groupings of chairs and sofas, many occupied by chatting clients. This rather casual impression stood in sharp contrast with the smartly dressed receptionist in the partial-glass enclosure in the front lobby and the closed doors that lined the three exterior walls of the meeting area. Each door held an official-looking gold nameplate.
The receptionist took Ari’s name with an automatic smile. After a cursory glance at the Magic Council ID, she clicked a button and announced Ari’s presence to someone on the other end. The woman’s brisk voice matched her precise demeanor. She listened to her headset a moment. Her attention returned to Ari, and she reported Shale would be with her shortly. She offered Ari something to drink while she waited.
Ari chose the nearest chair. “No, thank you, Mrs. Binderman,” she said, reading the nameplate on the counter. “I’m fine.”
The receptionist flashed a sudden smile. The simple use of her name transformed her from cool efficiency to genuine warmth. Human Social Interaction 101. It didn’t always work, but when it did, Ari still found it amazing.
“It’s Ms.,” Amelia Binderman confided, leaning forward as if imparting a secret. “I’m not married.” She spoke without regret or concern, just a secretarial compulsion for accuracy. Ari made a mental note for future visits. Since they’d broken the ice, Ari probed for a little more information. The clerical staff always knew the company secrets. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">