“Uh-huh. Did you say something about a murder?”
“Name’s Arianna Calin,” she said, scanning his sparsely furnished apartment. The living room area held a worn recliner, a portable TV, stereo, a table piled with computer paraphernalia, and two stacks of thick books on the floor. No place for anyone else to be hiding in this room. “Are you alone?”
“Yeah, what’s this about?” He followed her gaze to his closed bedroom door. “I swear, there’s no one else here. You can look, but it’s a mess.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I work for the Magic Council. We’re investigating the death of a vampire named Vanessa.”
“You don’t mean Vani?” Lomax took a look at the photo Ari held. “Oh man. What happened to her?” He pushed the hair off his forehead with one hand. Surprise and regret chased across his face. Or he was a damned good actor.
“Killed last night. When did you last see her?”
“Two days ago. How’d she die? You said it was murder?”
“I’m afraid so. Were you a regular client?”
“Well, uh, not really. Vani and me…I guess we were more friends than anything. I’m a grad student in engineering. Not much time for socializing, so I found Vani. The sex was great, and she’d see me even if I didn’t have the cash. She knew I was good for it. But we spent time just talking. My career. Politics. She knew a lot about world affairs. Damn, I’m sorry to hear about this.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. “Want one?” he offered.
“No, thanks. On duty.”
“Oh, yeah. Do you mind?”
“No, go ahead. It’s your place.”
He settled on a stool at the kitchen counter, took a long swallow of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did some john beat her up?”
“Not exactly. She was decapitated.”
“What?!” Lomax nearly came off his stool. “Shit! That’s barbaric. Why would someone do that? Were there witnesses?”
“We don’t know. No one’s come forward yet. Can you tell me where she lived, her friends, where she might hang out? “
Lomax seemed lost in thought. “Huh? Where’d you find her?”
“Goshen Park.”
“Gawd,” he said. That seemed to say it all for him, and he fell silent.
“Where were you last night, Fred?”
He came off the stool this time, his face alarmed. “Oh no. I wouldn’t hurt her. How can you think that?”
“All I asked was where you were. It’s routine. We ask everyone.”
“Doesn’t feel routine.” He dropped back on the bar stool and took another swig of beer. “OK, you want an alibi. Last night, let’s see. I went to a movie with friends about 7:00, then we had a few beers at Charlie’s Pub, on Fiesta St. Got home around midnight.”
“Anybody come home with you?”
“No. Is that a problem?”
Ari shook her head. No alibi for the critical time, but no motive either, as far as she could see. In fact, he was the only person she had found who claimed to be a friend.
“What about other clients, friends? Where she lived? Can you tell me anything about her day to day life?”
“She dated somebody. For real, not a job thing, but I don’t know who. She didn’t talk much about herself. Never about clients.”
A lover. “What did she say about this person?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Nothing definite. More casual comments like, it was nice to have someone to do things with. I never asked for details because…well, I didn’t think it was any of my business. Being sort of a client and all. I think they had an apartment together in Olde Town, somewhere near the park. I walked her part-way one night.” He looked at Ari. “Anything else I can do?”
“Any personal information you can remember might help us. Even little things. If we can locate her home or her lover, that might help us identify the killer.”
He stared at the floor, as if searching his memory. “She enjoyed art. We used to visit the college art museum once in a while. She liked the modern stuff. Oh, yeah, she grew up in Tennessee. I remember because my brother lives there, and we talked about whether Graceland was worth seeing.” He lifted his head and frowned at Ari. “Pitiful, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“How little I know. Seems like I should know a lot more about someone I considered a friend.” He emptied the bottle and set it down.
Ari left him contemplating life as seen through an empty beer bottle. She figured bottle number two was in his near future. Collegiate therapy.
He’d given her the first new piece of personal data and the potential link with the other cases. Now they had a lover to find. Someone knew Vanessa was missing but hadn’t come forward. Was he not worried yet, or hiding his guilt?
Ari called Ryan. No one else had done any better. Several clients had alibis; almost as many did not; others had simply not been at home to interview. Between Ari, Ryan, and his officers they’d covered most of the list. He’d have someone on the second shift follow up on those not at home.
Ryan echoed Ari’s concern about the boyfriend not reporting Vanessa’s absence.
“Could be an innocent reason, I suppose. Out of town, or married. Or maybe they had a fight. We could still get a call. Did Andreas have any luck finding her home?”
“Didn’t hear. I thought he’d called you,” Ryan said.
“Uh, no.”
“Don’t tell me,” he groaned. “You guys are on the outs again? I wish you’d make up your mind.”
“And you can mind your own business, partner.” Her words weren’t heated, more defensive, but she instantly regretted them. None of this was Ryan’s fault, and he had every right to complain if something affected the investigation. “Sorry. Guess I’m feeling bitchy.”
“And you don’t want to talk about it. Am I right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Let me know if he becomes a problem. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks. But it isn’t like that. It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always,” Ryan muttered obscurely. “He must not have found her residence, or he would have left one of us a message. Got any other ideas?”
“I have one more source I can tap. You remember Rita, my vamp informant? I’ll track her down this evening.”
* * *
Rita had been an eighteen-year-old runaway from Minnesota. She’d gotten off the bus in Riverdale, bummed around the streets for thirteen months, and one night met a handsome stranger in a bar. Only hours later, she was staggering from blood loss, out of her mind with hungers she didn’t understand, and perpetually nineteen years old. That’s when Ari found her abandoned in an alley almost two years ago. Last fall, Ari had saved her boyfriend Gordon from an ugly death at the hands of a group of werewolves. Both were good reasons Rita would help if she could. That didn’t mean getting information from her would be easy. Rita had an attitude.
Ari had never failed to locate Rita at Maurie’s Bar, a little dive on State Street, and her luck held today. The bartender didn’t like having Ari around, but he recognized her by now, and once his customers got used to periodic visits from an Otherworld cop, they stopped disappearing every time she walked in the door. He gave her his usual scowl, poured a glass of seltzer and pushed it across the counter. Ari laid down a five, and he nodded toward the far corner.
Rita was playing pinball. A reluctant grin crept across Ari’s face. If anyone could look good in a two-piece black spandex outfit, it was Rita. She was slender and sinuous with long reddish-brown hair. Her usual garb was silk and leather, and very little of it. This evening she had opted for more material, but the spandex left even less to the imagination. She was also sporting some new additions, a sparkling navel ring, and a brow piercing. Ari noticed two male wolves were keeping an interested eye on Rita. The bejeweled vamp was going to score tonight at more than pinball.
“Hey, Rita. Came to see my favorite vamp girl. Nice jewelry.”
“You like it?” Rita asked, wiggling her brow up and down. “Sexy, huh?” She turned her attention back to the game. “Did you hear Gordon and I split? He’s gotten all uppity since he started working at that club. You ever see him?”
“Now and then. If he’s so bad, why are you asking about him?”
“No reason. Just wondered.”
Ari could tell it was more than that. Rita was carrying a torch, but it wasn’t likely Gordon would be back. He had a new girlfriend. “I’ve seen him around,” Ari said, “but not to talk to. You have a fight?”
“Not really. He was picking at everything. My clothes. The way I talk. And he didn’t like me hanging out with my friends. Don’t think there was much he liked. Except the sex.” Rita grinned. “He liked that, all right.”
“Don’t they all?”
Rita ended her pinball game and sat down at the nearest table. Ari slipped into the seat across from her.
“So why you here, Ari? You didn’t come to talk about me and Gordon. That’s for sure.”
“No, but I’m sorry things didn’t work out. If I see Gordon, you want me to tell him anything?”
“You’d do that? Give him a message?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Crap, I don’t know what I’d say. He thinks I’m a loser. Maybe he’s right.”
Rita wasn’t the greatest catch, but Ari hated to see her so down on herself. Her life had been hard enough. “You’re not a loser. You’ve done pretty well for yourself, considering how it started.”
“Do you really think so? That I’m doing OK?” Rita asked eagerly.
“I said it, didn’t I?”
Rita had been abandoned by her sire, an almost fatal occurrence. But Ari had taken her to a vampire shelter where they provided for her, until Rita learned enough skills to survive and find her own nest. In those first weeks, Ari had visited regularly and developed a soft spot for the young vamp. Rita had needed someone and, kind of like a baby chick, she’d imprinted on the first non-threatening face she saw. Ari had tried hard to re-direct her. Failing that, she’d accepted her responsibility and kept an eye on the younger woman. That included propping Rita’s ego on occasion.