“It’s not like I believe in the undead or anything.” Peabody slid into the passenger seat. “But it wouldn’t hurt, once we find this guy, to interview him during the day. In a room with good natural lighting.”
“Sure. And requisition some garlic and some wooden stakes while you’re at it.”
“Really?”
“No.” Eve swung out into traffic. “Reach down inside yourself, Peabody, and get a grip on reality, however slippery. Find the club. Right now we’re going to visit somebody who knows all about what’s dead.”
Chief Medical Examiner Morris sent Eve an easy smile as he stood over the naked body of Tiara Kent. He wore a snappy suit the color of good claret with a matching tie thin as straw. His dark hair was intricately braided, and curled into a loop at the nape of his neck.
Eve often thought Morris’s sharp fashion sense was wasted on his clientele.
“Running a bit behind today,” he told them. “Sent off for tox as you’d flagged that. Shouldn’t take long.”
She glanced down at the body. Morris hadn’t yet made his Y cut. “What can you tell me just from the visual?”
“Lieutenant, this woman is dead.”
“Peabody, note that down. We’ve got a dead woman.”
“With excellent breast work,” Morris added. “And some very first-class sculpting, belly and butt.”
“Jesus, she was twenty-three. Who needs sculpting and new tits at twenty-three?”
Peabody raised her hand, and got a bland look from Eve.
“You’re not twenty-three.”
“Okay, I’ve got a couple years on her, but if they’re handing out butt sculpting, I’m first in line.”
“You have a very nice butt, Detective,” Morris assured her, and made Peabody beam.
“Aw, thanks.”
“And now, back to our regularly scheduled program?” Eve suggested. “The dead woman on the slab.”
“Tiara Kent, party princess. Live fast, die young.” Morris tapped his comp screen to magnify the neck wounds. “These are the only injuries or insults to the body. The victim was exsanguinated through these two punctures in the carotid. No visible signs of physical restraint or struggle. Apparently, she lay there and let him suck her dry.”
“Suck.” Peabody drew a righteous breath through her nose. “See? Vampire bite.”
Morris’s smile spread to a grin. “Impossible not to have a little play with that, isn’t it? The beautiful young blonde, seduced by the Prince of Darkness—or one of his minions—drained of her life’s blood while in his thrall. Cue fog and shadows.”
“Don’t forget the creepy music,” Eve added.
“Of course. Mostly, however, I suspect she was drugged to the eyeballs, and was punctured by an appliance during sex.”
He lifted his eyebrows as he looked down at Tiara. “Of course, I could be wrong, and she’ll pop up shortly after sundown and terrify the night staff.”
“Let’s go with number one,” Eve decided. “If he actually bit her, appliance or not, there’s going to be saliva. Same if he didn’t use a cloak for sex. I bet even vampires have DNA.”
“I’ll send samples to the lab.”
“Guy had her convinced he could give her eternity.” Eve took one last look at Tiara Kent. “Now she gets a steel box in a cold room.”
Three
“Got the club.” Peabody studied the readout on her PPC as they drove toward Cop Central. “Daffy had it right about Times Square, it’s under Broadway. Got the hours, too. Sunset to sunrise.” Peabody tracked her eyes toward Eve’s profile. “Vampire hours.”
“Owner?”