Familiar Face
Monday morning, I showed up for work. Marshall and Dudley were holed up in the former’s office. Marshall only surfaced once to show me how to work the coffee machine and give me a pile of non-paying client files to call. Why didn’t he mention that I’d be doing that on Friday? I might have thought twice about the job. Reluctantly, I took the stack of files. Then the surly detective gave me forty bucks to go buy them breakfast with. Heck! How long had they been talking?
When I finally sat down to make the phone calls, I realized this job wasn’t as meaningless as I supposed. Actually, it was quite the opposite. The first file not only had the billing information but also contained the whole case history. Marshall was supposed to track down a missing person. Marshall had found them—wife gone astray—just as I suggested on Friday. Now the husband was pissed and didn’t want to pay.
It wasn’t until the fourth file that I found something regarding vampires. It was a simple case. The client just wanted to know if someone they knew was a vampire. They weren’t. Case closed.
After that, almost every case was about vampires. For the most part, the conclusions Marshall arrived at were less than satisfactory to the clients, hence they wouldn’t pay.
Toward the end of the afternoon, Dudley came out of Marshall’s office, carrying a stack of files. He stopped and balanced them on one of the chairs in the waiting room while he sorted them into his briefcase. I felt his eyes on me as I opened the last file.
“Am I that cute?” I ask humorlessly, looking into his unimpressed eyes again.
“You look familiar to me. That’s all. I just can’t place you.”
“Maybe we knew each other when we were growing up?” I suggested, not believing a word of it.
He cocked his head to the side. “It’s possible. I remember I knew a girl with the same name as you once, but it couldn’t be you. You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who would ever choose to slaughter a pig.”
The late afternoon sun came through the window to my left and the Venetian blinds cast horizontal shadows across his shirt. It was hard to say what made him so attractive to me at that moment. Even though his face was made up of perfect lines and the sunlight made his brown hair shine like copper—the feeling came from somewhere deeper. Something about him screamed that if he knew everything there was to know about me, he would get it. He would get everything. He would understand why I killed the vampire. He would toast me for not hesitating to do what I had to. He would approve of my protecting my sister and allowing myself to grow old and unused at her side. Maybe it was just a passing fancy—or maybe he was my soul mate and I was going to have to let him slip through my fingers like I had every other man I’d ever wanted to pursue.
He leaned on the desk and looked at my face. “Do we know each other?”
“My memory isn’t so good,” I said limply.
“Well, I’ll think about it,” he said as he swung his bag over his shoulder and marched out.
Through the glass partition, I watched him walk down the hall before I got back to work. He had great shoulders.
Then I had a look at the last file’s contents. It was an older file—opened three years ago. It was a request from a person who seemed to be a vampire. That surprised me, but I supposed even vampires sometimes needed a detective service. I bet Marshall was liberal-minded enough to retire vampires on vampire requests as well as human requests. This particular bloodsucker was looking for two vampires who had gone missing. In human time, a person is missing after they have been gone for two or three days. In vampire time, no one thought to look for these bloodsuckers until they had been missing for five years. I stared at the pictures in disbelief. One of the vampires he was searching for was Schroder, and the other one was my sister, London.
I was so shocked I felt like I was having a panic attack, but I refused to lose my visible cool. Rather than worry about the details, I forced my eyes to the front page to see Marshall’s conclusion. When I looked at the billing information, I saw that the client was a paying client. Their balance was zero. If that was the case, why was I being asked to call him?
Then I saw something that made me clamp my hand over my mouth. Tucked in the file was a picture of London leaning against a pole at a bar, with me standing in the background. I picked up the picture and examined it carefully with my heart pounding in my throat. Had Marshall realized that I was in this picture? Was he showing it to me intentionally?
Marshall probably needed to contact the client because he’d found a new lead. This file was in the wrong pile.
The old detective began to stir in his office.
I put the picture back and closed the file. Then I stuck a post-it note on the front that read, “No amount owing. Action required?” Then I picked up the pile and went into Marshall’s office like I wasn’t worried about a thing.
I tapped on his door politely and he called for me to come in.
“I finished the pile,” I say nonchalantly. “There are a few minutes before five o’clock. Is there anything else you’d like me to do before I go, Mr. Marshall?”
He turned around and looked at me. Dudley wasn’t the only one with an unreadable expression. I couldn’t tell if he knew I was connected with London, but If he didn’t know, it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. My resume had my address on it and if he followed London home when he saw her at the bar, she would lead him to the same address. However, there was also the possibility that he didn’t look at my address carefully. I didn’t talk to London at the clubs. Maybe he hadn’t made the connection, but all the pieces were there.
I had to do something.
“No,” Marshall said, interrupting my thoughts. “You can go home.”
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
I gathered my things and walked out of the office, thinking about evasive action. I could send London home to our parents. That wouldn’t be too hard. I could handle her mail (if there was any) while she was in the country and my parents could keep an eye on her until Marshall stopped looking for her. As for me working in his office—it was perfectly fine. You keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.
Besides, our parents lived in the boonies. I wouldn’t have to worry about London looking for a mate out there. There is never anyone interesting out there. I only met one remotely appealing boy when I was growing up. He lived next door to us when we were teenagers. He was closer to London’s age—totally gawky—but kind and the fabric of some of my best memories growing up.
“What are you thinking about so completely?” Dudley said abruptly, coming up behind me as I exited the building. “You should be more aware of your surroundings. Someone could sneak up on you.”
Like him?
I answered wearily, “I guess someone could. Did you forget something upstairs?”
“Not really,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder in that way of his. “I just thought you might like me to walk you home.”
And lead him straight to London, no doubt. Marshall might not have noticed the duplicate addresses, but Dudley could have. He was a P.I. in his own right, wasn’t he?
I smiled coyly and prepared to tell a few lies. “Actually, I wasn’t going straight home. My fridge is completely empty. I was going out to eat, but I’m sans a companion tonight. Would you care to join me?”
“Your treat?”
“As long as I get to pick where we’re going. I’m a receptionist—not a billionaire.”
“Does that mean you’re going to take me to the café across the street?” he asked, indicating the saddest little joint with grubby windows and no one eating inside.
“Yep,” I said positively and began making my way toward it.
Dudley grabbed my arm. “No. That’s not even a real restaurant. It’s a drug nest. The only people who pop in there are going to get stoned.”
“So? I’m sure they still serve food,” I said, with my nose in the air.
He sighed. “The point is, the bread will be moldy and the meat will be expired. I’ll treat you to a real restaurant.”
I nodded.
I was actually hoping he’d refuse me entirely and leave, but having him pay for my meal was a close second.
***
Dudley’s idea of a restaurant was different from mine. The place had atmosphere. The walls were papered in dark red brocade and the seats were upholstered in black velvet. Each table was lit by a single chandelier hanging over it. The table cloth itself was red with a black fringe.
And he thought the place I wanted to take him was creepy.
He seemed to do a quick reading of my thoughts and before he commented, “This isn’t a drug nest. Neither is it a vampire hangout. This is probably one of the safest places to talk in the city. It’s run by Russians.”
“Really?” I asked skeptically. “So why did you want to bring me here specifically? Is there something you need privacy to say?”
“Do you only like privacy some of the time?”
“No,” I said, feeling foolish.
He eyed me carefully and let the subject pass. “Your name is Sweeper? That’s quite unusual.”
I started playing with a lock of my hair and flat out refused to answer such a stupid question. Of course, that was my name. What game was he playing?
“I still can’t shake the idea that I know you from somewhere. My first name is Tate. Does that ring any bells with you?”
I tapped my fingers on the table and pretended to think, but I knew that if it didn’t ring any bells in two seconds, it wasn’t going to. With no bells ringing in my head, I looked at the ceiling to buy some time. He probably didn’t remember me from anything other than the case of Schroder and London. He was trying to get me into a position where I had to admit what I knew, but I was not falling for it and there was no way I had met this stony-faced man before. He wasn’t going to corner me.
“If we’ve met before then I’m sorry—I don’t remember you,” I said after a lengthy interval.
Then suddenly his eyes went wide. It was only for a moment, but from that single unguarded moment, he betrayed his thoughts. He honestly didn’t know who I was before and now he had made the connection.
I sat still and kept my expression neutral.
Could I go to jail for killing Schroder back then? Probably not. What I did was illegal, but killing a vampire wasn’t on par with murdering a human. In a way, it was a public service, like returning a corpse to the cemetery. If I got caught by the cops, there was no problem. They were reasonable.
What I was worried about was illegal retribution. It sounded like the vampire who hired Marshall was too lazy to track down London himself. In that case, could it be that he was too lazy to take care of the revenge of ending London’s legacy himself? If that were true, then Marshall and Dudley could have been asked to kill her. The only thing I needed to do was make sure that no one found my sister. That would be enough as long as they didn’t find out it was actually me who killed Schroder.
“What were you like when you were a teenager?” Dudley asked, leaning back in his chair and pulling out the makings for a cigarette. Actually, he wasn’t even looking at me.
“Excuse me?” I asked. I was confused. How much did he know? Did he know more about the case than I suspected? I should have looked closer at that file before I gave it back to Marshall. I should have xeroxed it.
Dudley’s eyes shone with interest as he went on. “Were you a loner or a diva or…” he hesitated, “a tomboy?”
My eyes narrowed. I actually was a tomboy, but how did he know to ask that? “I was boring. What were you like?” I asked evasively.
To my surprise, he answered clearly—even elaborating a little. “I was a loner, so alone, actually, that I remember my best friends were the girls who lived next door.”
“Did they talk to you?”
“One of them did.”
Just then my mobile phone rang and I excused myself to answer it. We hadn’t ordered yet anyway, so he could hang on a second. Except it wasn’t really a phone call. It was my alarm bell going off, but Dudley didn’t know that. There are so many ring tones—my alarm bell could be mine. It was set to remind me to wake London up. Usually, if I didn’t wake her, she’d sleep all night and all day and then all night again. She’d never wake up.
However, I was looking for an excuse to duck out on Dudley. Yeah, I did say I was attracted to him earlier, but that was before I saw the file on London. I had to get her sent off that night. If I worked all night, I could get all her stuff out by dawn and then have Dudley over for dinner at my place the next night. He could see that she was nowhere to be found. At least, that was my plan.
I pretended to talk on the phone and then made my way back to the table.
“I’m sorry,” I said apologetically. “I have to go, but how about if I cook you supper tomorrow night to make up for it?”
Dudley stared at me. “Fine, but can’t you have a drink with me before you go?”
I frowned. “I can’t. Are you going to be at the office with Marshall tomorrow?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad. Could you meet me outside his office at five?”
He nodded and I smiled charmingly. At least I hoped it looked charming.
I walked out of the restaurant thinking about him. He was a loner, huh?
***
When I got back to the apartment, I was immediately aware that something was wrong. Did something happen to London?
I ran to her room, threw the door open, and a horrific sight welcomed me.
“Bloody hell!” I exclaimed.
A man, a human, hovered over London. Splattered blood stained the bedclothes and the carpet. London had slashes on her throat and the guy was wiping the blood off his lips with the back of his hand and then licking it off.
“Piss off!” he shouted.
I pulled my phone out of my bag and yelled, “I’m calling the police.”
The guy looked genuinely spooked and made for the window, but I got a good look at him before he tripped down the fire escape. He was blond with unshaven stubble on his chin and light-colored eyes. Like her last boyfriend, I couldn’t see the attraction. He looked creepy, with dark purple lines under his eyes, but then again, what was there to see except someone who wanted to drink blood?
Funny though, I didn’t see that when I looked at London.
My sister lay motionless on the bed with a glassy look in her eyes. Actually, she hadn’t looked sharp since before she became a vamp, but this expression was more vacant than usual. Her dark hair curled around her white face and she stared off into space like she hardly noticed my arrival.
I closed the window, locked it, and drew the curtains. Then I went into the bathroom attached to her room and got a bandage to stop her bleeding. Vampire blood didn’t clot at all compared to human blood. After all, a vampire was only two steps from being a corpse. It would take ages for her cuts to close. As I wrapped her wounds, she yanked the blanket out from under her and pulled it over her chest. If she was cold, he must have drunk quite a bit.
I shuddered. What had London done to her body and for what? It would take her over a year to close up, even after she stitched herself shut. Sometimes I thought vampires were more like Frankenstein’s monster than Dracula. Nevertheless, vampire biology fascinated me. For one thing, their digestive system didn’t work. Since London’s body wasn’t taking in any new nutrients she was surviving on what she got from Schroder, eight years ago. There was no new material to rebuild the broken cells. However, even though her heart ceased to beat, her nervous system still worked beautifully. In fact, it vastly surpassed a human’s. The tiny electric current flowing through her allowed her five senses to keep working. It allowed her to feel pain, to feel tired, and to activate killer reflexes—if she had any. Right now, it looked like she was allowing herself to be drained again. Some vampire she was turning out to be.
If she was cold, her electric functions were slowing down, which meant she hadn’t drunk enough of his blood to maintain the status quo.
I whispered quietly, “How much has he drunk? A cup? A liter?”
Silence.
“Two liters?”
She averted her eyes.
I didn’t ask anything after that. She wasn’t going to tell me how close she had come to changing him into a vampire. Instead, I got her suitcase down from her closet.
She gazed at me wearily from the bed. “What are you doing?”
My look could have killed, but she was already dead, so my scowl had no effect on her. “I started working for a private investigator today and when I was going through his files, I found a file on you. There’s a vampire looking for you and Schroder. I don’t want him to find you, so you have to go home until the P.I. closes the case.”
“I can’t go anywhere,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because Garth is here and I have to be with him.”
I was so angry I could spit. I stomped around the room cramming her belongings into the case until it was overflowing. “You’ll die,” I informed her like it was news. “Even if my P.I.’s client doesn’t get you... when this guy Garth becomes a vampire, he’ll kill you.”
“He’s not going to kill me. He has some friends that will protect me.”
I wasn’t surprised by what London said. Nothing she could say would have surprised me at that point. Vampires and humans who are in the love phase will say and do just about anything. It was after the high passed that the dangerous time came, but London was too blind to see it and my hands were tied because the moron she was dating was still a human. Until the recently exiting Garth became a vampire I couldn’t do anything to him. It would be better for everyone if the loser stayed human and left her alone.
Well, at least there was one silver lining on that dark cloud day. London said she had to stay here so she could be with Garth. That made it sound like he wouldn’t be able to follow her out to our parents’ place.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and said, “Listen to me, London. Haven’t I protected you all these years? Can’t you do just one thing for me and go out to Mum and Dad’s without an argument? The private investigator I’m working for—Marshall—is supposed to report your whereabouts to a vampire. What do you think will happen when he does that? Someone will come after you and end your legacy. Please. Put your romance with this guy, Garth, on hold for two minutes. I’ll find a way to get Marshall to drop the case. You might be able to come back to the city within a week.” I didn’t actually believe what I said for a second, but I put my heart into my speech anyway.
London looked tired but otherwise unreadable. It was always like this. I was never sure what she was thinking.
After what felt like an age, she said, “I had actually been thinking of moving out soon anyway, but if you want me to hide out in the country for a few days, I guess I can do that for you. Afterward, I want to move in with Garth.”
I frowned… deeply. I didn’t want London to move in with her sleazy boyfriend who would inevitably kill her if Marshall’s crew didn’t, but I couldn’t decide if I should argue the point now. This was all happening too fast.
I’d have to cross that bridge when I came to it. The most important thing at that moment was to get London out of the city—away from Marshall. She’d be safer.
I got up off the bed and called to arrange for a truck to come to pick up her things that very night. Then I braced myself for the work of moving her things when she was as helpful as a corpse. It was going to be a long night.