Mortal Agent of a Vampire - Chapter 12

Dean and I were catatonic, hiding in the corner of a dilapidated bungalow wall.
“You go left and I’ll go right and flank him, okay?” I said quietly. Originally I was trying to convey it with eyes and hand signals like in a cop movie, but I wasn’t sure Dean and I were using the same set of code words. Generation gap, you know.
“Got it.” Dean said.
I followed the roots of the wall around to the other side.
This was the apartment Liz had rented, and we’d come here with the intention of taking our chances. The house was small, the décor corroded with age, but it was neatly packed. Liz had packed her bags. I asked Dean, but he hadn’t heard Liz mention traveling or moving.
There were three calls on her landline, and we dialed them back one by one. The first was Dean’s cell phone, the second was a plane booking hotline, and the third was a music training center where Liz was said to be taking advanced guitar lessons, enthusiastic, hard-working, and talented, and that teacher told us, “When is she coming back for lessons?” He asked with anticipation.
Do you have a branch in heaven? To honor the dead, I held back a joke and hung up.
There was nothing more to it, but as we returned disappointed, luck struck. A middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses and graying hair was hovering on the front porch, peering through the cloth-covered glass of the front window toward the interior. He was trying to look less suspicious, but had a sneaky air about him.
Dean and I decided to let it go.
One, two …… I hadn’t even counted to three before Dean had charged out with a slam, and with a yelp, the gold-rimmed glasses were pushed back like a piece of paper. What happened to the promised common ground? I wasn’t going to dwell on it too much, though.
“Arrest him, Danno.” I walked out.
“What?” Dean looked up, bewildered.
Obviously, we weren’t on the same page, so I gave up on the Honolulu Mounted Police routine and crouched down, sizing up the gold-rimmed glasses.
He was lying down on the pitted wooden floor, j□j, looking like he’d suffered a lot.
“Who are …… you guys? Where’s Liz?” He asked.
“I think the way things are going it looks like we have the right to ask the questions, don’t you?”
“He’s got a good point, old man.” Dean was cooperative, “What are you doing hanging around my sister’s door? Did you kill her?”
“Liz is dead?” Gold-rimmed glasses looked surprised.
Great, Dean just told this guy everything, where’s the cleverness in dealing with me?
“Okay, I’ll take it from here.” I took back control, “Be honest, who are you? What are you doing here? Or else ……” I thought for a moment, threatening people wasn’t my strong suit, “or we’ll drain your blood and lay it in the fireplace.” I did a Vince-style glare. It should have failed.
The blonde rimmed glasses looked stunned, “Come on, I’m Liz’s doctor, she hasn’t contacted me in over a week and I’m a little worried ……”
Dean and I looked at each other, Dean shook his head, “Why does she need to see a doctor?” I asked.
“She’s diabetic.” Gold rimmed glasses said.
Dean was stunned, “That’s impossible, I’ve never heard her say that!”
“How long has it been going on?” I ask, it seems we were wrong, the needle marks in Liz’s hands weren’t caused by drug use, but she still may have chosen to kill herself out of fear of the disease.
‘About two years now,’ the blonde glasses thought, ‘but she only started treatment with me last year, oh she was in such a terrible state when she first arrived ……’
‘Oh my god ……’ Dean let go of the blonde glasses and stood up, leaning against the wall in dismay, his eyes reddened, “I can’t believe I didn’t realize that Liz she ……” he began to pull his hair.
“Do you have proof?” I pressed, deciding to comfort Dean later.
The blonde rimmed glasses pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket and I took it, it read, “Gerard Moran’s private practice.” At the bottom was a cell phone number and a landline number.
“What was it you guys were saying about Liz being dead?” He climbed to his feet and patted away the dust.
“That’s literally it.” I said.
The doctor wrinkled his brow as if confused, “That’s impossible, Liz was getting better, her medication had been reduced a lot ……”
“It wasn’t diabetes,” I interrupted, “Someone slit her wrists.”
If there was a question mark on the doctor’s face a moment ago, there was now an extra exclamation point, or several.
“This, this …… this …… this,” he said, shaking his head as he spoke incoherently, “you guys think …… she killed herself?”
“It’s not us,” I corrected, “It’s the police, we want to prove that’s not the case.”
“Thank God.” The doctor suddenly sighed in relief, “That’s exactly what I was going to say, Liz would never kill herself.”
I wondered where he got his confidence from, “Do you have proof?”
“She had no reason to,” the doctor said, “She was the most optimistic person I’ve ever met.”
Dean said the same thing, and now I felt like my investigation wasn’t in vain, “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Let’s see,” the doctor said, and after a moment he ended his recollection, “I think it was nine days ago ……”
“Did she tell you she was going on a trip, or this sort of thing?” I remembered Liz’s suitcase still in the living room.
The doctor smiled apologetically, “I only discuss her condition with her, I don’t know much about her personal life,” suddenly, he barked, “Oh yeah, she’s close to Debbie, maybe she knows something?”
Debbie was his assistant, we hooked her up and it confirmed my suspicions that Liz was preparing to move to England. There was no reason why she would suddenly choose to end her life for no reason.
We went to the police station and with the doctor’s and Debbie’s testimonies, they reluctantly agreed to reinvestigate Liz’s case. Dean thanked me, after which we said our goodbyes. I went back to the paper, wrote a follow-up story, and by the time I got home, it was silent.
The Little Pantheon was dark, with only the floor lamps lining the driveway to guide the way lit. That meant Vince was away, and when he was home he always liked to leave all the lights on as if we were living at the prom site, and yes, that even included the seven-colored spotlights around the house that were cast into the long night sky. I was never sure what such things were for, to signal with aliens, or to tell tourists that this was an attraction? If the sun had an on/off switch, I’m sure he wouldn’t hesitate to turn it on.
It’s strange. Usually at this hour, he’s already back from hunting and watching late-night shows. Maybe he had a particularly good appetite today, I didn’t really care too much, after all, we all have the right to enjoy a weekend meal. I threw myself on the bed like a sandbag and fell asleep.
I slept until ten in the morning.
Usually, four hours before that, I’d wake up to all sorts of noises, including the alarm clock, my editor’s phone call, my mom’s phone call – a warm reminder to eat breakfast on time, and sometimes she wakes up thinking I’m still only seven years old – and Vince. Two things, the abhorrently chirpy orders and the piano.
He liked to play the piano, said it helped with meditation. Maybe he’s a wizard in addition to being a vampire. In fact, in all conscience, his piano sounded beautiful, but whatever sound was hardwired into your dreams at six in the morning was noise.
But today, there was nothing, a silence. I craned my head to look out the window, and it was a good thing the crabs were still cleaning up the yard, or I was going to think that a zombie attack had broken out without my knowledge.
Vince had surprisingly stayed out all night. I took the subway to catch my ride to work, gripping the handles dangling from the top of the car in my hands, my eyes as vacant as those of its fellow riders, swaying to the rhythm of the car’s vibrations. The thought hovered in the back of my mind. I didn’t want to speculate as much as my suspicious wife, and I simply couldn’t imagine what had tripped him up.
A car accident? No, when Vince drove, the car wasn’t traveling on the road, it was flying through the air. A robbery? Oh, you try it. A new lover? For Vince that meant food, he never spent time with them outside of meals, and according to Vince, how would you like to be ear to ear with an empty plate with crumbs stuck to it?
As for sex, I can’t really remember how we got onto the subject, I just remember Vince with a sort of upperclassman-mocking-underclassman grin on his face, “When you’ve experienced the thrill of bloodsucking, you don’t find that so exciting.”
All day, I was torn between calling him, and not calling him. On the one hand I was worried that he was experiencing some kind of problem, and on the other hand I was worried that my concerns were petty. If he had something going on, he would naturally find you, wouldn’t he? He’s not afraid to cause trouble for anyone.
At noon Dean called to say that the police had called up the footage from the cameras near the scene and had seen several dark figures passing by at the presumed time of death and were in the process of identifying them. Looks like we’re not far from the truth.
The difficult Monday passed in a distracted manner, and when I left work I found Vince waiting for me downstairs, and I have to say I felt relieved.
“That’s great, I almost had to think I had schizophrenia and then you were a figment of my imagination.” I pretended to settle my chest.
Vince moved his lips as if he was about to laugh, “Fight Club?”
“Bingo.” I’m so glad we’re so in tune.
We got into the car. A Jaguar, a handsome one, I’m sure Vince has picked up a lot of invitations to have a drink today, he really does think of the front of an office building as a bar. As we start up, a traffic cop walks up to the window and Vince flies him a kiss, he puts up his palms and rolls his eyes and walks away.
See, that’s what’s so great about old friends, it’s all in the air.
“Lyle.” Vince said as he took the wheel on the way back.
“Watch the road!” I reminded him, desperately gripping the seat cushion. Just moments ago, we slanted j□j between two overstretched trucks, sprinted up the crosswalk, dispersed the screaming crowd, and then drifted back into the passing lane. Vince’s driver’s license (if he really has one) should have a line noting that carrying the elderly, young, sick or pregnant is prohibited.
“Oh, I’m watching.” He waved his hand absently, with no sincerity at all, “I want you to know that I’m going away for a while.”
“What?” I didn’t respond for a moment, you can’t expect my brain to function in overdrive, after all, I’m just a poor human being, and after a moment’s interval, I asked, “But …… why?”
“There’s something.” Vince said vaguely. Why can’t I read minds?
“And I thought I was doing your job for you.” I said, “This isn’t going to be a euphemism for me getting fired, is it?” I looked hurt at the reporter’s tactics.
“Answer me seriously, have I ever been euphemistic in front of you?” Vince looked me in the eye.
I thought hard, “No.” Unless our understanding of euphemisms is off, Vince has never been the most direct in sticking the knife in me, he doesn’t even bother to go around my back. Remember the Mina incident?
“Great.” Vince patted me on the shoulder with one of his free hands, and for God’s sake I hoped he was still holding onto the steering wheel.
“So?” Since I’ve been his agent, he doesn’t do anything but eat dinner himself, and even when he finds a cockroach in the house, he says, “Lyle, up.” Why not? After all, he paid for it. It’s my duty, and I don’t see why this time is an exception.
“What else do you want to know?” We get to the subway station and he pulls up to the curb, ignoring the raging traffic. I saw him narrow his eyes, not a good sign, and usually when he did that it meant not to ask questions.
“I ……”
Vince interrupted, “Do you remember what I told you back then?”
“Which gospel do you mean, what chapter, what lines?” I asked.
“Seriously. What I said was that you would be the one to step in and deal with the others when necessary.” He raised one eyebrow.
“Sure,” I thought I was missing some big news, “Isn’t that what I always do?”
Vince shook his head, “No, you’re missing the point, I mean, the others.”
“Other people?” I repeated, “First of all, is calculus involved here? If the answer is yes, then you don’t have to bother explaining it to me.”
Vince laughed and stroked his hair, his black hair couldn’t be any neater, “You’re a humorous fool, Lyle.”
“Well, don’t make the mistake of resorting to personal attacks, I’ll stay out of this one, okay?” I made a surrender gesture.
Vince nodded, then told me to catch my own ride back, and I got out of the car with a full stomach.
“You confirmed that Dean’s sister committed suicide, right?” Vince asked as he started the car.
“What can I say, I’m a genius.” I tilted my head in disbelief.
Vince was noncommittal, “I’m glad that’s settled.”
We said our goodbyes and he drove off into the busy streets.

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