Sherbet answered on the first ring.
"First-ring relationships are serious business," I said.
"Don't get used to it, kid. I just kinda, you know, sensed you were going to call me. Or something like that."
I laughed. "Why, Detective, you sound kind of freaky."
He growled under his breath, which nearly made my phone vibrate against my ear. This was all new to Sherbet. After all, homicide detectives don't sense things. They operate on facts and evidence. At best, they might get an informed hunch.
"So what's the news, Sam? Out with it."
I told him about the file, about my trip to Best Buy, and about the missing tech guy. Although I still wasn't sure what the hell a Nook was, I had discovered that Robert Mason had hired the missing tech.
"Good work, and what's this Nook thing you're talking about?"
"I haven't said anything about a Nook. You're reading my thoughts again, Detective."
More growling. "What's this tech's name again?"
"Gabriel Friday."
"Hang on. I've got his file somewhere...okay, here it is."
I had no doubt that Sherbet's home office looked similar to mine, stacked with files and reports. I soon heard him flipping through pages. He paused in his flipping - reading, no doubt - then said, "Okay, so it says the kid disappeared on his way to work."
"Yes."
"And phone records indicate he received an unknown call just prior to coming in to work."
"Says the same thing in my file," I said.
"Probably because you illegally copied the file," said Sherbet. "So, what are you thinking, Sam?"
"I'm thinking Robert Mason gave Gabriel a call."
"Maybe asked him to swing by the theater early one morning, perhaps to fix a bug in the computer."
"Something like that," I said. "Sort of a follow-up call."
"Gabriel's car - a VW bug - was found burned out in Corona," said Sherbet.
"Near where Brian Meeks's body was found."
Sherbet paused, no doubt reading the same information I was reading. "Within a few miles, actually."
"Yup."
"So Gabriel Friday shows up to give Robert Mason a helping hand...maybe do some pro bono work to help out the local theater...and Mason offs him," said Sherbet.
"And drains him of blood."
"Jesus," said the detective. "I'll call you back in a few minutes."
He called me back, in fact, in fifteen minutes.
"I got it," he said.
"Got what?"
"The search warrant. We're going in tonight."
"Going in where?"
"His house."
"What about the theater?"
"The warrant only covers the house and any outbuildings on the property. The theater isn't on the property."
"But he owns it."
"Let's take it one property at a time, Sam."
"Fine. I want to go with you tonight."
"You can't, Sam. You know that. Official police business and all that."
"Then do me one favor," I said.
"This have anything to do with Hanner? Why did I just say that?"
"Because I gave you a peek into my thoughts."
I gave him another peek. In particular, I gave him access to my suspicions about Hanner.
"I don't understand, Sam," said Sherbet. "What's this got to do with Hanner?"
I next showed him an image - my own memory, really - of Hanner and myself on the deck of her house. Drinking blood. Together.
Sherbet didn't say anything for a long time. So long that I wondered if the old geezer had fallen asleep. But I knew he was working this through.
Finally, in a voice so deep that it nearly rattled my teeth, he said, "How did I not know, Sam? I feel like an idiot."
"It's a gift of hers, Detective. She can plant thoughts and, I think, alter thoughts. In the least, divert thoughts."
"Can you do this, too?"
"I...I don't know."
"So, as far as I know, this whole damn city could be full of vampires, and I wouldn't know. No one would know. Because anytime one of us gets a whiff of a vampire, they put a subliminal thought in our head to order a Starbucks instead."
"Sounds like a valid conspiracy."
"This isn't funny, Sam. I'm seriously freaked out here. I mean, a bloody fucking vampire has been working under my nose for, what, five or six years, and I hadn't a clue."
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Detective. Remember, you sniffed me out pretty quick."
"Not really. I just thought you were damn weird."
"Something every girl wants to hear."
"You know what I mean, Sam. You had my radar pinging. Detective Hanner...nothing. Not even a suspicion. And she even works the goddamn night shift."
"She's an old vampire, Detective. Old enough, I think, to know a few tricks."
"Worse," said Sherbet, "is that I like her. Legitimately like her."
"So do I."
"Fine," he said. "I'll conduct this tonight without her. I'll round up a few of our boys and hit this house hard. I'll call you when it's over."
And he disconnected the line.