Page 38 of How to Stake a Vampire
“Decades of practice,” Victoria said.
“Can I borrow her sometime?” Detective Johnson asked in a low voice. “Some of our perps can be tight-lipped.”
Bo placed a sympathetic paw on the police officer’s leg. “You can’t afford Pearl.”
A tense standoff was happening across the way.
The silence stretched until even I felt compelled to confess to something.
Bella finally cracked.
“The intruder had a briefcase,” the cat said reluctantly.
We leaned forward attentively, Didi with her notepad.
“It was black leather,” Truffles added reluctantly. “Nice quality. Italian, I think.”
“Did you see what was inside it?” I asked.
Bella shot a wary glance at Pearl and shifted uncomfortably. “Vials. Small glass vials filled with blood.”
Didi’s pen stopped moving. Samuel’s expression sharpened. Victoria started looking a little green around the gills.
“How many vials?” Barney asked quietly.
“Dozens,” Coco admitted. “They were labeled, but he moved too quickly for us to make out anything useful.”
Truffles’s ears twitched. “I did spot a name on one of the tubes though,” the cat confessed reluctantly. Her eyes flicked warily to Barney. “It said Maximus Dorian Bludworth.”
“Oh my,” Victoria mumbled.
A frozen hush fell around the room.
We all looked worriedly at Barney, Detective Johnson the most nervous of our group. The vampire’s eyes were glowing crimson and his nails were scoring thin lines in his palms.
“That’s my great-uncle,” he ground out, his voice carrying a troubling echo of the power he’d wielded when he’d subdued Gregory.
I hesitated, the smell of the vampire’s blood making my wolf fidget.
“Is he—?” I trailed off awkwardly.
Barney took a shuddering breath and forced himself to relax. “Alive, last I heard.”
“Was there anything else?” Samuel asked the cats stiffly in the fraught silence.
“There was a pamphlet,” Bella said. “In the case.”
I stared. “What kind of pamphlet?”
“It was for a funeral parlor.” Bella’s tail swished hesitantly. “Pinevale.”
Betsy made a strangled sound, her gray skin now completely green. She swayed slightly. Quincy moved to steady her.
“That’s where Master Chudwell’s funeral is going to be held tomorrow afternoon,” the butler mumbled.
Bo’s eyes brightened. “I smell a clue!” He sniffed the air. “And salmon. I definitely smell salmon.”
The butler awkwardly extracted a sandwich bag stuffed with fresh salmon fillets from his pocket. Lord Chudwell’s cats’ eyes brightened with thinly masked interest.
