Part 11 (2/2)

SUNDAY.

I spent the morning down at the station, looking at traffic footage for the cameras in the vicinity of the first murder and cross checking with the area around Club Agonia. It's not the quick and easy job they show on TV, not by a long way.

Lunch was at Mom's. It wasn't a success. Naturally, she always wanted to know what was going on in my life and there was almost nothing I could tell her. It frustrated me and it hurt her. I escaped as soon as I could and went back to trying to figure out where the vampires had come from and what cars they drove.

In the late afternoon, I took a break and stopped in at the Schumachers.

We sat in their living room. Klara brought out some little Bavarian cakes and cookies that were a regional specialty. The treats tempted Emily downstairs.

Not surprisingly, she wasn't made up today. I gathered the makeup had been restricted to pre-agreed get-togethers, and only one per week was going to be allowed, which had to be supervised. The rest of the time, she was completely grounded. She was only allowed out for school or with her parents.

It probably seemed fairer to me than it did to her.

What did surprise me was she didn't hold a grudge. She wasn't my best friend, but she didn't sit there glaring at me. I really liked that.

Klara got me to talk a little about myself, and Emily's curiosity fought against her attempt to be cool and distant. She seemed interested in the little stories I told about what I'd done in the police, and stuff from my days at South High. I left out everything from the army and all that led up to it.

Werner asked what I did on my days off, and rather than stonewalling, I said I went clubbing, making out it was my choice and not part of my duties, checking for vampires.

Stroke of genius. The real breakthrough came when I mentioned a particular dance club I'd been to a month before. The club was radical, apparently. The coolest place on earth. Emily was as deeply impressed as someone who has only experienced the club second or third hand could be. She went through a list of people she said had gone there and they were all, like, really, really cool too. I doubt she actually knew any of them.

Finally she stopped. ”But you don't look...” she hesitated.

”Like a Goth?” I said. I tried to tiptoe here. Tact is not my strong suit. ”Or just a person with any sense of style?”

Emily tensed up.

”Emily, some people take a style and let it define them. Well, it's a free world. The rest of us, we can take the style and use it. And then the next day, maybe we'll try a different one. There were things I wore fifteen years ago which would make you laugh. But you would have worn them, back then.”

She thought about that a bit. ”Do you dress up then?”

Second stroke of genius, sort of. I'd taken photos of myself in full vampire dress on my cell phone just before I'd gone off to Club Agonia. My own personal record of the things I had to do. I got out my cell, and pulled the pictures up.

Emily pounced, and before I could stop her, she had shown Klara and Werner. Fortunately, they saw the funny side.

When I left half an hour later, Emily begged me to come back next time her friends were around, and never, ever to delete those way cool photos.

Chapter 15.

At roll call for the graveyard s.h.i.+ft, there was no sign of Knight.

The other crews were talking about yesterday's murder. I was confused about when that was by the hours I had been keeping. I thought they were talking about the body I'd found. They weren't. Finally it sank in that they were talking about a dead man that had shown up twelve hours ago, on yesterday's graveyard s.h.i.+ft. With the same MO.

I wanted details, but we were interrupted by the duty sergeant, who read the notices and confirmed the crews. After that, the rest of them hurried off.

There was still no sign of Knight.

It wasn't that unusual to have to run a patrol single-handed when a colleague called in sick at the last minute, but nothing had been said.

I had just stuck my head around the door to ask the duty Sergeant, Bill Carver, when Knight appeared.

”Sorry, got held up,” he said.

”Oh?”

I thought he wasn't going to say any more, but he did. ”Homicide wanted to check some stuff about patrol.”

I shrugged. I thought there were better ways to do that, but no one is interested in what the rookie has to say.

”Did you hear there was another body yesterday with the same MO?” I asked.

”Yeah.”

”Where was it? Have they got a name?”

Knight stopped abruptly and grabbed my arm. ”Look, Farrell, I don't want to talk about it, okay? Remember what I said about the murder the other night? This qualifies too. You don't want to talk about it either.” His finger stabbed out at me for emphasis. ”You don't want to get involved. You don't want to be seen scanning traffic cameras on some case that is not your concern. You got that, rookie?”

Okay.

What the h.e.l.l had bitten his a.s.s? My getting in trouble for sticking my nose into a case on my own wasn't going to reflect on him.

”I understand,” I said.

I had to drop it. I was supposed to be on patrol for the next four hours, not solving cases. I'd pick it up afterwards.

This was routine, so we didn't need to talk any more while I got us out of the parking lot and onto our patrol area. There are points you visit repeatedly during a patrol and I started by cruising past the closest, working our way in a zigzag to the far end of our a.s.signed precinct before starting the standard pattern.

Something was bothering me. I mentally ran down my list of things inside and outside work to check if I'd forgotten something. I came up blank. I was going to crack a joke about it being too quiet, when I realized that was exactly what was bothering me. Knight hadn't said a word since we got in. Surely it wasn't all about Friday? Maybe he had been chewed out for something I'd done.

”All okay?” I asked.

”Yeah.” He lapsed back into silence, slumped down in the seat. If that was what talking with Homicide did to him, I'd advise skipping it next time.

”So, our last few graveyard s.h.i.+fts gets you two days off next weekend,” I said. ”Got any plans?”

”Ch.o.r.es. Then I'll catch the ball game,” he said and sat up straighter. ”I'll have some friends around, grill a few steaks, drink a few beers. What about you?”

At least that had got a couple of sentences from him. ”I hadn't planned anything. Ball game sounds good.”

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