The machine itself was a Dell PC that I assumed was top-of-the-line. It looked like it had everything but warp drive, and I decided not to bet against that feature either. I would have loved to go through its files to see if I could shed any light on Longworth's threats, but Captain D'Agostino would probably boil me in oil for messing around with his crime scene.
I'd have to see about getting access to the computer through channels later, assuming it was even impounded as evidence and the Longworth family didn't demand its return immediately. The Longworths, I was learning, tended to get what they wanted. But even they couldn't fetch sonny-boy back from Hell, where I hoped he and some especially sadistic demon were having a nice chat right about now.
Some scraps of paper and index cards were strewn around the keyboard and mouse pad, and I bent over them to see if Jamieson Longworth had obligingly left all his secrets written down for me, just like on TV. I took out my pen and used its blunt end to move some of the stuff around a little for a better look, but all I learned was that Longworth wanted to remember to "Call Mom," had a dentist appointment next week he was unlikely to keep, and was running low on pineapple juice and cottage cheese.
From the living room, somebody called my name. I started a little, and my hand brushed the computer's black and silver mouse, where it lay on a rubber pad that had "Carpe Noctem" printed on it in spooky-looking letters. The machine must have been in sleep mode, because that slight movement of the mouse woke it up. I heard my name again, and it sounded like the voice's owner was closer now, and getting pissed.
As I straightened up, I saw that the monitor was now showing a professional-looking photo of a small stone building with water around it. It looked like it belonged on a calendar from Ireland, or someplace. You'd think Longworth's tastes would run more toward splatter porn. Go figure. I didn't recognize the image on the screen, but there was something…
"What are you doing, Detective?"
One of D'Agostino's guys, in a blue pinstripe suit and hundred-dollar haircut that made him seem more like a corporate lawyer than a cop, stood in the door. He looked like he'd caught me buggering a donkey right here in the bedroom.
"Just killing time," I said. "Sorry I didn't hear you at first – daydreaming, I guess."
He stepped into the room and glanced at the computer screen, then looked at me hard for a few seconds. But when I didn't turn into a weeping puddle and confess to the Lindbergh kidnapping, he jerked his head back in the direction he'd come from. "Come on – you're up."
"You bet," I said, and followed him out of the room. The photo on Longworth's monitor wasn't either significant or sinister. Just a little pastoral art, unlikely as that might be. But I was irritated that it had some kind of association for me that I couldn't put a finger on.
I didn't get to dwell on it for long. I soon had other irritations to replace it, all of them wearing expensive suits and power ties.
I didn't have a lot to talk about, since my role in both the raid and the shooting was one of observer. I told two of D'Agostino's detectives what I'd seen, and agreed to provide sworn testimony at any proceedings, departmental or legal, that might stem from today's tragic events. Then I got to say the same thing to two more of them. Then two more. Karl, I found out later, went through the same fucking round-robin. Then, when they finally ran out of idiotic questions, and big words to ask them with, they cut us loose.
"I wonder who's gonna get the job," I said to Karl, as we walked back to the Rite-Aid lot.
"Who, Dooley's? He won't get fired, Stan. I don't care who the fucking kid's family is. It was a righteous shoot, with lots of witnesses."
"No, I mean the job of bringing the bad news to Mrs. Longworth. Glad it won't be us."
We'd walked another three or four paces before Karl said, "Maybe they can tell her it was done by werewolves."
Karl had made a light on yellow that I hadn't, so he was just getting out of his car as I pulled into the police department lot. He walked over and waited while I locked the Toyota. "You heard what Longworth said back there," I said.
"About your loved ones? Yeah, I heard the fucker. You think he meant Christine?"
"I don't see who else he could've been talking about. I mean, I kinda like you, Karl, but you don't really qualify as a 'loved one,' you know?"
"I guess that means no flowers on Valentine's Day," he said. "How about Lacey?"
"No, she doesn't quite make the list, either."
"Okay, so it's Christine," Karl said. "You got a plan?"
"Not much of one. But I'm for damn sure gonna be right here, come sunset."
We started walking slowly toward the station house.
"Think I'll tag along, if that's okay," Karl said.
"Sure, the more the merrier," I said, then, "Thanks, man."
"No prob. Anyway, if you don't mind me saying so, I think Christine's kinda cute."
"For a vamp, you mean."
"For anybody. So, okay, assume she shows, what then?"
I shrugged. "I'll find out if she knows anything about Sligo. Then I'll tell her what I find out, which doesn't amount to a hell of a lot. Suggest she move her daytime resting place, just as a precaution. Remind her to watch her back. Stuff like that. Just… fatherly advice." My voice might have gotten a little funny as I said those last two words.
Fatherly advice? I haven't talked about Christine that way since she was changed. Since I had her changed.
"Think she'll believe you?"
"I've got no reason to lie," I said. "She'll understand that."
"Okay, sure. But what if she doesn't show at sundown?"
"I'm still working on that part of the plan."
We'd kept McGuire informed by radio of where we were and what we were up to, but I wanted to fill him in on some of the details before Karl and I hit the streets again.
As we walked into the squad's tiny reception area, I asked Louise the Tease if there'd been any word from Vollman.
She shook her head, the blonde curls bouncing a little. "Not a peep since last week."
To look at the hair and that body of hers, you'd never guess that she's a member of Mensa, but I knew she had been for years. She's also deadly at Scrabble, I hear – plays in tournaments, and stuff.
"If he calls when I'm away from the squad," I said, "give him my cell phone number, patch him through on the radio, or do whatever else it takes. I have got to talk to that creepy old bastard, and the sooner the better."
"Will do," she said. Then she glanced toward the squad room door and said, "Those two witch sniffers are in with the lieutenant."
An icy finger traced its slow way down my spine. "They haven't found Rachel, have they?"
Louise shook her head. "I'm pretty sure not. I think that's what they're in there bitching about."
"Okay, good."
I turned to Karl. "Let's go in, sit down, and catch up on paperwork or something." We still call it paperwork, although most of that crap is digital now. "Once those two bozos leave, we can talk to McGuire."
"Works for me."
I went into the squad room and could see, through the glass panels in McGuire's office, the two witchfinders in there with him. They were standing, and the older one, Ferris, was gesturing the way people do when they are seriously pissed off. The other guy, Crane, didn't look real cheerful, either, and that was fine with me. The unhappier those assholes were, the better I liked it. Or so I thought.
Aquilina and Sefchik were at their desks, the ongoing argument apparently suspended for the time being while they each worked at their computers. They looked up as Karl and I came in, nodded "Hi," and went back to work.
Any hope I had of doing the same was crushed when McGuire appeared in his office door, pointed at me, and made a summoning motion. Guess I wouldn't have to wait to see the boss, after all.