“Seems?”
“You know how it is – or maybe you don’t. He doesn’t tell me much. Just asks questions and lets me come up with my own answers.”
“So you’re working toward the point where you can look at a crucifix without wanting to run like hell?” I said.
“Something like that.”
“How’s that working out?”
“I’m not there yet,” Karl said. “Maybe I will be, someday.”
“Here’s hoping,” I said.
“Yeah.”
Karl had been right about my car. When we got to my house, his headlights showed the Toyota Lycan, sitting in the driveway. As we came to a stop, I checked my watch: 3.18.
“You going back to work from here?” I asked him.
“Yeah, might as well see if McGuire’s got anything for me to do as a solo, or maybe I can go out with one of the other teams. If not, there’s always paperwork to catch up on.”
Karl put the car in park and looked at me. “You gonna take tomorrow night off?”
“Fuck, no – I’ll be in for my shift. You can tell McGuire as much, too.”
“I dunno, Stan. I mean, no offense, but you’re not movin’ around too good right now. Maybe some rest is just what you need.”
“I’m gonna get some rest. I plan to keep vampire hours today – sleep from sunrise to sundown, and I may even get to bed earlier than that, after I talk to Christine.”
“OK, good, but I still think–”
“Karl, listen. The fucking city is coming apart at the seams, right? We got bombs going off, supes doing crimes to get high, fangsters shooting it out in the streets, and God knows what all. And by the way, I know what you’re thinking.”
He gave me a flash of fangs in a quick grin. “Is that right?”
“Yeah – you’re thinking that I’ve got some kind of Matt Dillon complex–”
“Who?”
“Gunsmoke. Before your time. Anyway, you think I’ve got some kind of hero thing going on, where I figure that only I can stop all the bad shit that’s been goin’ on. Right?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite that way – but that’s because I never heard of Gunsmoke.”
“I should’ve used a James Bond example – but, anyway, you’re wrong. I don’t figure I’m going to stop it alone. Shit, maybe it can’t be stopped by anybody. But all I know is, I’ve got to try.”
Karl made an “I give up” gesture and said, “Alright, OK. Fine.”
“Scranton’s my town, Karl. I’ve never lived anyplace else. And I’m not gonna spend tomorrow night at home watching Zombie Survivor on TV while the whole place goes to hell in a handbasket. I can’t.”
“I said OK, didn’t I? I believe you, Stan – don’t get aggravated.”
“Yeah, I guess that could be pretty bad for a guy in my condition, huh?”
“Fuckin’ A,” Karl said. “Goddamn fuckin’ A right.”
“OK, I’ll see you at nine tonight. Thanks for the lift.”
As I reached for the door handle, he said, “I’ll wait until you’re inside before I take off.”
I turned back and looked at him. “I’m all grown up and everything, Karl. Besides, I’ve got my Beretta.”
“You had it with you this morning behind Jerry’s Diner, didn’t you?” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “I’m just sayin’.”
I like Karl pretty well most of the time, but there are moments when I hate him – especially when he’s right. Like now.
I drew in breath to say something sarcastic, but what came out was, “OK, Karl – and thanks.”
I closed the kitchen door behind me and made sure it was locked. Christ, Karl had got me paranoid now – although I’d always thought that the philosopher Allan Konigsberg had a good point when he said “Being paranoid doesn’t mean that they’re not really out to get you.”
I could hear the TV playing in the living room – I’d already known that Christine was home, since her car was in the garage. I was about to call out “It’s me!” when the TV shut off. She’d heard me come in, as any vampire would have. A moment later, Christine appeared in the doorway between the living room and kitchen.
She looked at me for a second before saying, “Hi.”
I think she’d been about to say something involving the phrase “death warmed over” but changed her mind. Good for her.
“Hi, yourself.” I pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down, although “collapsed into it” is closer to the truth.
Christine went to the freezer and removed what looked like a gallon-size freezer bag filled with ice cubes. I was pretty sure it hadn’t been in there yesterday. She wrapped the bag in a clean dishtowel and handed it to me. “Here,” she said. “Try this on your head.”
“Thanks, honey.” I took the ice pack and pressed it gingerly against my lump. She’d been right – after a little while, the pain started to ebb a bit.
“So how was your night?” she asked, but then quickly added, “If you don’t feel up to talking, it’s alright. You can tell me about it later.”
“No, I’d rather do it now,” I said. “Talking will help take my mind off the way my head feels. The ice is helping, though – that was a good idea. No wonder you’re my favorite daughter.”
She pulled out a chair opposite me and sat down. “So, tell me – what’s been going on?”
I told her everything I’d seen and heard at the crime scene, leaving out only the couple of times when I’d nearly passed out from the pain in my head.
When I’d finished, she remained in the position she’d assumed for most of my account – elbows on the table, face cupped in both hands. Finally, she put her hands down on the table. “Talk about a fucking mystery.”
“You mean, how vampires can’t be killed by an explosion? Yeah, that’s–”
She shook her head. “No, I mean all of it. A car bomb goes off in front of Calabrese’s restaurant, but it couldn’t have harmed the Don or any of his guidos.”
“Uh, I think that’s considered an ethnic slur.”
She looked at me with her eyebrows raised. “What, guidos? And since when did you get all politically correct?”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“OK, so the bomb wouldn’t have killed Calabrese or any of his Mafia murderers. Better?”
I shifted the ice pack around a little. “More accurate, anyway.”
“And the bomb didn’t do any serious harm to his business interests. You’d think the Delatassos would know both those things.”
“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you?” I said. “Makes me wonder if the Delatassos had anything to do with it.”
“But, shit, if they didn’t do it, who did? Who’d be mad enough to car-bomb Calabrese, and dumb enough to think it would do him serious harm?”
“You figure that one out, be sure and let me know. I can probably get you hired by the Police Department as a detective.”
“Oh, boy – Karl and I could work the night shift together.”
I asked myself if I wanted to pursue that subject – her and Karl together, I mean – and myself got back to me immediately: No fucking way, Markowski. Not now. Maybe not ever, but especially not right now.
While I was congratulating myself on my good judgment, Christine said, “I didn’t go right home after I left you at the hospital tonight.”
“Oh? What’d you do, instead?”
“Stopped off at Varney’s for a drink.”
Varney’s is another supe bar, but it tends to attract mostly vampires, instead of the kind of mixed crowd you find at Renfield’s. I didn’t know where Christine was going with this, so I just said, “Uh-huh.”
“You were wondering, earlier, who’s going to replace Victor Castle.”
“I still am,” I said. I took the ice pack off my bump and put it on the table in front of me. “You hear something?”
She took the dish towel from around the plastic bag of cubes and re-wrapped it more neatly. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about this, but once a week, Varney’s has open mike night, although they don’t call it that.”