"You, you and you," I said, pointing to three of the men who appeared to be the ringleaders of this nasty little crowd. "Get over here."
They pushed forward belligerently—big, handsome men with an ugly attitude.
"What?" the middle one said. He was the tallest of them by about three inches, and towered over me by a good five.
"You think vampires did this?"
"We know it. Like we told those men over there, we saw the car. It was a vamp car."
Meaning the windows had been fully shielded against sunlight. "And you know for certain that it was a vamp either driving or being driven in it?"
He frowned. "Who else would fucking drive one of those things?"
"I see." I stepped forward, grabbed him by the shirt, thrust my other hand on his crotch, and none too elegantly hauled him up and over the barrier. He wasn't a small man and it was a huge effort, but it had the desired effect. The crowd fell silent.
"You two," I said, dumping the stranger back on his feet and pointing to his two friends, "Join us."
They did. Fast.
With my grip still on the big man's shirt, I dragged him over towards the body. The other two followed without being asked.
Cole and his team had stripped the body and were in the process of unraveling the bandage as we arrived.
"What the fuck?" the big man said, his face an angry red. I couldn't actually tell if it was anger over my treatment of him, or anger at being dragged so close to a corpse. Some people were funny about things like that. "We don't need to see this."
"Ah, but you do, because we don't need your sort spreading untrue rumors."
I hauled him to a stop as Cole pulled the final bit of bandage free. The wound on the old man's leg was obvious—a clean, crisp stroke that sliced from the top of his thigh to down near his knee. The wound split as Cole moved the old man's leg, revealing the layers of fat and muscle and then bone. There were small clots inside the wound, and the skin had a slightly darkened appearance, as if someone had hastily washed the area.
"What do you think that is?" I said to the man.
"A knife wound," he muttered.
"A knife wound that sliced through major arteries and would have caused him to bleed to death," I retorted. "Now, I can't imagine a vampire wasting blood like that. Can you?"
"Maybe whoever did it wanted us to think it wasn't a vampire," one of the men behind him said, his voice belligerent.
I released the tall man and grabbed his buddy. He squawked as I yanked him forward, moving around the body until we stood near his head. Cole obligingly moved the dead man's neck so that the bite was more evident. I could feel the waves of amusement coming from him, yet you'd never know it from his expression. Dusty and Dobbs were studiously avoiding looking at anyone.
"Do they look like real vampire bites to you?"
"I don't know," he muttered, his gray eyes darting between the body and the crowd, as if he couldn't bear looking at the old man for more than a second. "I'm no expert on vampire bites."
"Well, these men are. Do you care to hear what they say, or are you merely interested in stirring up unfounded trouble?"
"I don't want no trouble. None of us do."
"Sure as hell could have fooled me." The crowd behind us was still very silent. "Cole?"
Cole cleared his throat, a brief twitch of his lips the only indicator of the amusement I could still feel. "When a vampire bites into flesh, analgesic elements in their saliva reacts with the skin, causing a swelling around the wound. On the dead, this swelling does not abate. These wounds were very likely punched into the skin by a thick needle or the end of a knife. An autopsy will provide the answer either way."
"Meaning," I said, giving the man a bit of a shake, "that someone wanted idiots like you to think this man was killed by a vampire."
"Well, we weren't to know he wasn't," the bigger man whined belligerently.
His voice was loud, carrying easily, and a murmur went through the crowd. The tension and anger, which had already begun to dissipate, subsided still further.
"Which is why it's always dangerous to jump to conclusions," I said. "Now, why don't you all leave, before I decide to arrest your asses?"
"What?" someone said. "You can't do that!"
Which was true enough. I couldn't, because they were all human, and the rules that applied to nonhumans certainly didn't apply to them. But they obviously weren't the sharpest tools in the shed, so a little twisting of the truth wasn't going to hurt. Not if it got them to restrain themselves the next time they saw a body being dumped in the street.
"The Directorate has a whole lot more power than the police, and you three were inciting violence against both the police and Directorate personnel. Consider yourselves damn lucky I'm feeling generous today."
They slunk off. By the time they'd gotten over the barriers, the crowd had begun to disperse. I blew out a relieved breath.
"That was very well done," Cole said softly, giving me a grin that reached his cool blue eyes. "Even if a lot of it could be considered stretching the truth."
"Hey, better that than getting your head kicked in by an aggrieved crowd."
"Too right," Dusty muttered, then gave me a smile and a wink. He had a nice smile on the rare occasions that he flashed it. "Although the heads getting kicked in would be theirs, not ours, and the boss hates that."
I grinned and glanced at my watch. It was nearly eleven thirty, which meant if I didn't get my butt into gear, I'd be late for my meeting with Kye.
I refused to call it a date. Not when he was basically blackmailing me to be there.
I glanced at Cole. "Could you send me the details of the car once it's traced? I'm betting it's stolen, but Jack will still want me to follow it up."
He nodded. "I sent the details into headquarters, so it shouldn't take long."
"Thanks."
He nodded and got back to work. I rose and walked back to my car. Time to head home and get changed, because jeans and a top would never be classed as 'something nice'. Although I refused to wear something sexy, because the damn man didn't deserve that, either.
Of course, finding something that could be classed as nice without being overtly sexy was another matter entirely. I was a werewolf. Sexy was my thing.
In the end I chose a very basic floral sundress, and teamed it with a black leather belt, which nicely matched the black and white print. Classy and neat, even if the floral print was last year's style. Not that Kye would care.
So why did I?
I grimaced at my own fussiness and, ignoring a small tremor of excitement, grabbed a change of clothes, then headed out.
Franklin's turned out to be at the top end of La Trobe Street, just down from Exhibition. It was a pretty, blue two story building with lots of lovely fretwork and arched windows. The glass was mirrored, suggesting it was one way, and there was very little signage out front—which left me wondering what sort of restaurant this place was, beyond the fact that it was obviously one that didn't want to be easily found.
I parked in one of the spots down the road then walked down, my heels clicking quickly against the concrete—a rhythm that matched my pulse.
There was no handle on the double doors out front, just a discrete buzzer. That had wariness flaring.
It was very tempting to just turn around and walk away, but I didn't trust Kye not to follow through with his threat.
Besides, part of me wanted to know what this place was. A dark and utterly stupid part.
I pressed the buzzer lightly and a moment later, a sultry female voice said, "Franklin's. How may we help you?"
"Riley Jenson. I have an appointment with Kye Murphy."
"Ah yes, Mr. Murphy has been waiting for you. Please come in."
The door softly clicked open, and I went through into a small foyer that was all dark marble and gold fittings. A small desk sat to the right, and a plush gold sofa and several potted plants to the left. The petite blonde behind the desk gave me a warm smile.