“Daniel’s not on duty, so I figured it was okay.” It was the first time I’d said Costello’s first name out loud. I kind of liked the way it sounded, especially because this time Kane really did look jealous. “Don’t worry, Kane. I didn’t give away any classified PA information. The secret handshake is safe.”
Kane shot me a look that promised we’d continue this discussion later. Then he turned to look at the door, where the zombies stood awkwardly. There were two of them, a male and a female. They both looked like they’d died young—late twenties, maybe. They were good-looking for zombies. No holes in their faces, no missing limbs, just a couple of fingers gone from the guy’s left hand. He wore a Red Sox sweatshirt and jeans; the female zombie was in an orange dress that didn’t flatter the greenish tone of her skin. She clutched her handbag to her chest, as if she were drowning and it was a life vest.
“What are those two doing here?” I asked. “And what’s with the camera crew?”
Kane had been trying to wave them over to join us, but they stood where they were. “They’re here to make a point,” he said. He went to the door, took both zombies by the hand, and led them over to us.
“Well, Detective, aren’t you going to arrest them? Aren’t these citizens committing a crime by leaving Designated Area One without a permit?”
Costello leaned back in the booth and squinted at the zombies. “I don’t make a habit of pestering people for IDs when I’m off duty, Counselor. As far as I can tell, these are a couple of college kids in their Halloween costumes.”
I realized what Kane was doing. “Don’t drag Daniel into this,” I said. “Make your propaganda without him.”
“It’s not propaganda; you know that.” He turned to Costello. “We’re taping a paid political advertisement to rebut Baldwin’s claims that Paranormal Americans are a threat to humans. Will you say on camera that you can’t tell these previously deceased humans from college students?” He gestured to the cameraman.
“Sorry. Can’t do something like that without running it past the chief first. We’re not allowed to take sides publicly in politics.” He slid along the booth’s vinyl seat and stood up.
Kane stepped close in front of him. Tense, they measured each other up. Fists clenched. Chests puffed. You could almost smell the testosterone. Axel came halfway around the bar, watching. The cop and the werewolf stared at each other, eye to eye, almost exactly the same height. I would’ve enjoyed the view if I hadn’t been worried that in half a second they’d start tearing each other apart.
Then Daniel relaxed just a hair, but enough to signal to Kane’s werewolf senses, loud and clear, that he wasn’t interested in fighting. A lot of werewolves would take that as a sign of submission, but Kane didn’t press it. He stepped back, relaxing as well, his hands unclenching.
They nodded to each other. Daniel turned and walked toward the door. I couldn’t pick up any fear in the way he carried himself. Pretty brave for a human, turning his back on a werewolf.
Over at the bar, Axel picked up his towel and started wiping glasses.
Kane watched Daniel until the oak door closed behind him. I thought I heard a low growl, but maybe it was just the buzz of conversation around us. He went back to his frightened-looking zombies and started herding them around.
“One more thing.”
I looked up, again into those blue eyes. Why did Daniel Costello’s eyes always draw my gaze like a magnet?
“I thought you left,” I said.
“I did. But I came back to tell you something.”
“Yes, Detective?”
The eyes went all crinkly with his smile. “Call me Daniel. I like the way it sounds when you say it.”
I didn’t answer. Anything I said would’ve come out as a squeak.
“Here,” he said, handing me a card. “I wanted to give you this.” It was his business card, listing his precinct address and phone number. He touched my hand—I hoped he couldn’t feel how that made my pulse race—and twisted slightly to flip the card over. There was another phone number written in pencil on the back.
“That’s my home number. Please don’t hesitate to call me, at either one.”
“You mean about the Hellion?”
Just the slightest increase in pressure on my hand. You couldn’t call it a squeeze, but it was—something. “About anything.” He smiled and exited Creature Comforts for the second time that evening.
12
KANE SHOOED AWAY THE COLLEGE BOYS WHO’D BEEN SITTING next to Juliet. They grumbled, and Husky Boy shook his fist in Kane’s face, clueless that this was a stupid thing to do to a werewolf. Lucky for him, Kane was in public-relations mode tonight. Juliet leaned over and whispered something to the angry kid, and he moved off to one side, although he clearly wasn’t happy about it.
Next, Kane arranged the zombies at the bar, getting the male a beer and the female a glass of white wine. He kept telling them to relax, but they were both stiff. What else could you expect from zombies?
Someone from the camera crew set up lights around the zombies, and a woman in black leggings and a silvery tunic started patting powder all over their faces. Makeup on zombies! It seemed, well, overkill. Zombies had spongy, green-gray flesh. Everyone knew that. If Kane wanted people to accept the zombies as they were, trying to make these two look more human could easily backfire. The makeup girl fluttered her powder puff across Juliet’s face. So she’d be on camera, too. Nothing like a sexy vampire to give the zombies some credibility, I guess. Of course, as Tina had pointed out, there’s undead, and then there’s undead. All you had to do was glance at these three to see that.
Kane came over and put his hand on my arm. “Do you want to be in the shoot?”
“No, thanks. I have no ambition whatsoever to be on TV.”
“You sure? Might be good for business.”
“You’re not making a commercial for my business, Kane. You want me there because I look human. I can sit next to the big bad zombies and not look scared.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” He smiled one of those smiles that melted you all the way down to your toes. How come he was always looked so damn good when he was trying to talk me into something?
“Nothing, I guess.” I shrugged; I wasn’t in the mood to melt. “I just don’t want to be on TV.” I nodded at Husky Boy, now skulking at a table. He wore his baseball cap sideways, making him look like he hadn’t yet perfected his dressing-himself skills. “Why not use a real human?”
“Those kids are drunk. They’d just make goofy faces at the camera.” But he seemed to like the idea. He scanned the crowd, then went over to talk to a woman who was sitting at a table with three others. She had that Midwestern tourist vibe going on. She shook her head and batted Kane away, but she was laughing. Kane whispered something to her and treated her to one of his trademark smiles. I’ve yet to see a woman who could resist the Kane charm when he had it going full blast. A minute later, she was seated at the bar getting powdered.
The lights guy had finished setting up, and the guy with the clipboard—who must be the director—said, “Listen up, people! Everybody in position, now. Let’s get started.”
Kane stepped in front of the group at the bar, adjusting his tie and closing his eyes as he got the powder-puff treatment. The director moved everyone around a little, so that Juliet and the male zombie could be seen behind Kane to his left; the female zombie and the tourist sat to his right. He squeezed them in close to fit everyone in the shot.
“Hey! Zombie boy!” yelled Husky Boy. “Hands off my lady!” His friend laughed and punched him on the shoulder.