A cold knot settled in my already aching stomach. “Are you mad because I came to the set with Jeff?”
“No … yes … well, maybe a little. It’s the situation.” He put the car in gear and we headed toward a side gate. “I’m going to do a little—in the words of Mr. Campos—whammy here. You won’t tell on me, will you?”
“Depends on how much of a whammy it is, and on who,” was my cautious reply. Stoker wasn’t completely off base on some of the powers he gave vampires, but vamps were careful not to use them too often on humans. To do otherwise sort of undercut that whole assimilation effort.
“Not on you. On the guards at the gate and the press vultures.”
As we approached the gate David’s eyes narrowed with concentration, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. A gray fog rose up around the vehicle. As we came level with the guard shack David muttered beneath his breath. The guard’s expression turned vague and dreamy and he raised the gate pole.
David shot me a quick glance. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.” I gaped at him. We drove through and past a couple of people standing on the sidewalk just outside the gate. In addition to the pedestrians, there were three parked cars. The doors flew open, people stepped out then stopped and looked confused. Some of the watchers looked at us, or whatever we appeared to be. One raised his camera. I wasn’t sure if he snapped a photo or not, and then we were past and turning onto Riverside Drive. From there it was a close hop up the hill to my apartment.
“Why did you tell Jeff to wait until tomorrow to go to the police?” I asked.
“So I could keep you away from the police,” came the answer that gave me a bit of a chill.
“Why? I can’t possibly be blamed for this.”
“No, but all that unpleasantness back in New York and Virginia is going to come up, and that will be … awkward. I wanted a chance to talk with you first and find out exactly what happened before I allowed a bunch of unimaginative cops to grill you.”
I remembered a conversation with John about the police. He’d been an officer in Philly, and while he liked and respected the people in his former profession, he was also blunt about the drawbacks. “Cops like simple stories,” he’d said. “The simpler the better. You start messing with the story, and they’re not going to like you. When cops don’t like you, your life gets complicated.”
I repeated this aloud to David as we headed up the hill toward the Oakwood. “Right now they have a story. Crazy elf actress goes nuts and shoots up set,” I said.
“And you’re the one discordant note in this song.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
“Think about it, Linnet. You’re the woman who was present when nine people got killed last year too.”
“Not all at the same time or in the same place,” I protested. “Three at one place and six at the other…” My voice trailed away.
“And you don’t think that makes it look even worse?”
I had no answer to that. I just slumped into sullen silence. David started to pull in the main gate at the Oakwood but suddenly swerved back into the traffic streaming up the hill, occasioning more than a few blaring horns, and Anglo-Saxon gestures of disapprobation aimed in our general direction. What had spooked him was a TV truck and a gaggle of reporters besieging the gates.
“Well, damn. Back to the hotel?” David suggested.
“I have no clothes, not even a toothbrush. They may get bored, and I can always slip in the pedestrian gate on the side.”
“So, what do we do in the meantime?” David asked.
It was embarrassing to admit. Societal norms said I should be more like a nineteenth-century heroine, shattered by what I’d seen, but awful as it was it wasn’t as horrible as watching a werewolf literally tear a fellow associate to pieces right in front of me. Bottom line, I was hungry. A lot of hours had passed since that lunch in the Warner’s restaurant. Shamefaced, I confessed as much to David.
“Start looking for something that looks good and is open at this hour.”
We were on Ventura Boulevard and despite the late hour there were still a lot of cars. The small strip malls held a lot of sushi restaurants, but they were all closed. Which was good: I didn’t want sushi.
“I want comfort food,” I said, and then I saw a large building on our left that looked like a 1950s diner. A large sign read DUPAR’S—OPEN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. “There,” I said and pointed.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. And don’t be a snob.”
He forced extra air through his lungs so he could produce a gusting sigh and turned into the parking lot. Behind the restaurant were other stores, a Trader Joe’s, a beauty supply house, and a McDonald’s.
“I guess I should be grateful you didn’t want to eat there,” he said with a jerk of his head toward the golden arches.
We walked into the smell of french fries and coffee. There were booths, and linoleum underfoot. It really was a blast from the past. David requested a booth near the back of the restaurant from the hostess, an older woman whose face looked like five miles of bad road and whose voice was a husky smoker’s rasp. She didn’t move from her position behind the cash register. Instead she waved over a young woman in a starched white uniform complete with the little cap perched in her hair like a nesting bird. The young woman took two menus from the older woman.
David held up a hand. “I don’t need a menu.” But the girl ignored it and led us to the booth, where she tried to give David a menu.
“No, thank you,” he said.
“So, you know what you want already?” she asked.
“I’m not having anything.”
“If you look at the menu you might change your mind. We make our own pies. They’re real good.”
“I’m sure they are, but I’m not having anything.” He was fast losing patience. I could hear it in his voice.
While the argument continued I perused the big menu, and decided on a hot roast beef sandwich and a Coke. “Well, I’ll leave the menu just in case you change your mind,” she chirped.
“I’m. Not. Having. Anything.”
I snapped shut my menu. “Well, I am.” I placed my order, and she went away. David was almost growling.
“Does she not get that I’m a vampire?”
“I don’t think she even noticed,” I said.
“That kind of inattention can get you killed,” David said.
“What? You’re planning on going rogue?”
“I don’t mean with vampires. In general. You’ve got to be aware of your surroundings. Especially women.”
That hit a little too close to home. “Look, she came in the door and started shooting. There wasn’t a lot of opportunity for me to assess the situation.”
“I’m not blaming you.”
“Oh. Okay. It just sounded like you were.”
The girl returned with my Coke and a cup of coffee. She smiled brightly at David and set it down in front of him. “Here. It’s on the house. It just looks so lonely with you sitting there with nothing in front of you.” Another smile and she went away.
David looked like he’d been pole-axed. I stifled a giggle. “She’s flirting with you,” I said.
“Does she know nothing?”
“Apparently not.”
He gave an irritated shrug of a shoulder. “Enough of this. Tell me what happened.”
So I did. I summarized the end. “The camera knocked her down. Jeff jumped on her. Then security, ambulances, and police arrived.” My dinner arrived just as I was finishing.
Slices of roast beef on two pieces of white bread smothered with brown gravy. Mashed potatoes, also swimming in gravy, were on one side, and green beans on the other. They were the nod toward healthy eating. I picked up my knife and fork and tucked in.