"You knew Lilith before she was on CSI Las Vegas, before she was officially 'dead' or famous."
"Why would you say that?"
"The first time I visited the Inferno, you came up and swept me onto the dance floor. I don't dance."
"You do in my arms and maybe Montoya's."
I ignored his attempt to link himself and Ric. "You also said you'd been waiting for me."
"It's a line, haven't you heard? Maybe you didn't, in Kansas."
"You left out you'd been waiting for me 'all of my life'."
"Maybe it would be impossible for me to wait for you all of my life."
"What? Poor mortal me? You're right about that and I wouldn't wait a New York minute for you. So quit the song and dance, Snow. You're good at it, but I'm good at detecting lies and evasions. You thought I was Lilith. You already knew her, but you hid that fact from me. Why?"
"I hide a lot of things from you. Why shouldn't I?"
That I believed. "Guess I'll just have to find them all out."
"Break a leg," he said cordially. "Anything else I can do for you today, Delilah?"
I'd barely tasted my Albino Vampire and his glass was drained. I wasn't going to be shuffled off, so I leaned back, crossed my legs, and sipped my drink that he earned the money for.
"You don't seem surprised by my mentioning Lilith's possible survival, Snow. She was presumed dead when you laid that line on me."
"I never believe any presumptions of innocence or death in this town, not even my own. What I believe about Lilith's state of being is moot, however. Her only filmed presence was, alas, as one dead. Not that this is a fatal problem. If she was in CinSim form, I'd lease her for the Inferno. I have a private club on the Lower Circles where she'd be in red-hot demand."
Every word of his speech seemed to indicate that his eyes were following every last detail of my form and face for its reproduction of Lilith. His tone was seductive, possessive, as if he owned me because he had seen and knew of, or possibly desired, her. Or had had her, in the Biblical sense.
"Lease her? Or would you buy her, at auction, like a slave?" I asked, bluntly.
He drew back a bit, as if slapped. As I had intended. I wasn't a Snow groupie to be seduced by some sexy sweet talk. I had a lot of Our Lady of the Lake Convent School backbone.
Snow lifted a pale eyebrow over the smooth black top of his sunglasses. Mr. Spock on MTV. "Now why would you think… one could buy… CinSims… when leasing them…is so much more lucrative… for the parent conglomerate, ISFX-MS, Industrial Special Effects and Magic Show?"
Snow was acting far too easy-going at the moment. And if he thought aiming his sunglasses at my crossed legs was going to make me jump up like Miss Muffett and shriek away, he was in the wrong nursery rhyme.
I recrossed them, higher, and sipped more slowly. Hello, Sharon Stone. Not a vintage film shtick, but effective.
A smile visited his pale lips and settled in. He lifted his martini glass, full again.
Parlor tricks that Madrigal at the Gehenna could do with his eyes closed would not disturb me, I told myself.
"I'm not here about Lilith, poor self-destructive girl," I said. "I'm here about the boy. The young man in the Sunset Park grave. I thought you might know something. Apparently not."
I drained my Albino Vampire in one long swallow and stood.
Now he was left holding the drink and being run out on.
"I have no clue," he admitted, his tone suddenly direct, flat. "I'm counting on you to find one. Call me your first client in Las Vegas."
"On the same case? You forget I've had two others ask me to solve the riddle. Or don't they count?"
"So be it. I'll pay you well for your results anyway."
"In Albino Vampires?"
"They're on the house now, for you."
"For how long?"
"Forever, Miss Delilah Street. Forever."
Okay, that was truly creepy. What was creepiest was that I was sure he meant that. Did he mean that I was immortal? Or that he was? I knew from experience that Snow's afterthought gifts had bite.
What it did mean for now was that I could collect three fees if I solved the identity riddle.
I doubted that was ethical, even here.
Don't sweat it, Irma advised me as we left, sailing under Grizelle's short supermodel nose as if her impressive form was not even there. This town was always the capital of the con game they call Three-card Monte. We deserve three times what any one person would give us. We are a class act. And we are double trouble."
Or were we a triple threat? Maybe, if I could find Lilith alive somewhere, we would be someday.
Chapter Eleven
RIC had "booked" me into an early interview at the Crimes Against Persons, a.k.a. capers, unit the next day.
Hector Nightwine had Perry Mason on tap just as fast.
I had to wonder where CinSims were "housed" when not on duty. Were they kept inert in warehouses? And what about their props, like the black fifties Cadillac convertible Perry drove up to my gate the next morning? Its color matched his black-and-white TV image, so I viewed a fragment of fifties TV film idling in my driveway.
Perry got out of the totally solid car to meet me at the cottage door and to admire Dolly parked in front of the carriage house.
"What a beauty! Where'd you get her?" He was a sharp one, recognizing Dolly's gender. Maybe it was the red interior leather and flashy white convertible top.
"Second-hand. In Wichita, Kansas."
" Kansas?" Perry seemed surprised. "Someone in Kansas must be foolish to part with a fine machine like that."
Also dead. I didn't want to mention that Dolly was estate sale spoils. It might remind Perry that he was a tad behind the times.
"Will I seem more suspicious if I come in with an attorney? " I asked as he saw me into his Caddy's passenger seat. It may have been a CinSim prop, but it was a genuine vintage automobile. I donned scarf and sunglasses for the ride, feeling so fifties.
Perry was a heavy-set man but he stepped briskly around the huge car frame to take the driver's seat. I reached for the seat belt I'd had to install in Dolly and saw Perry eyeing me. He had an intensely soulful gaze, but it was honed to a razor-sharp edge.
"Um-" How could I explain my out-of-era groping? "Just… uh, petting the leather interior."
He frowned, and when Perry Mason frowned it was enough to make Pinocchio spill his wooden guts. "Your car has a leather interior as well," he pointed out.