43. Jackpot
Chapter 43
Jackpot
Sierra Escondida Police Department—Two nights later
N ecks and shoulders weren’t supposed to ache on a vampire. But after spending hours calling numbers on Petar’s list with her smartphone wedged between her ear and shoulder, Tig gave up and placed a next-day delivery for an over-the-head wireless headset. The minute she put on the device and paired it to her phone, she sighed with relief. Much easier.
She’d previously tried earbuds and hated them. There was something about her ears that every time she clenched her teeth, at least one bud fell out, usually on the left side. And she clenched her teeth often. It went with the job.
The wait for Cerissa to return to the Hill and test the DNA swabs felt interminable, although Tig wasn’t without sympathy for Karen and Rolf. Jayden kept her updated daily on Karen’s recovery from surgery. So far, the mortal seemed to bounce back, and the foursome expected to be home in a few days. But with Cerissa refusing to testify to the accuracy of the familial markers in V-DNA, Tig had only one choice—continue to pursue other leads.
At least if she had to speak with Petar’s clients, she’d now be comfortable, wearing her new headset. Her cold-call list included both the ones he called to ask about the silver stake, and the ones who attended the casino the night Petar told everyone he’d be in Sierra Escondida. Jayden had added the casino attendees to the spreadsheet based on the receipts they brought back from Eastvale, and surprisingly, the credit card companies cooperated by giving him the contact information for each card.
More cooperation than she’d received from the phone company, which still hadn’t delivered any cell-site location information related to Callistus’s phone. Ari even peeked and confirmed the crash was legit. Until they restored the data, her investigation was dead in the water on that front.
Oddly enough, none of Petar’s clients confessed to murdering him. Instead, she heard more gossip about other communities than she ever wanted to hear, with people pointing fingers at their neighbors as likely suspects. Probably because they hated them for some reason having nothing to do with Petar. But some of those she phoned agreed to a DNA swab. That helped narrow the list, not by much, but a little. If they hit a complete dead end, she’d ask Jayden to drive to the closer communities to collect the DNA.
So Tig was wearing her headset when her phone dinged , asking her to accept a videoconference. She didn’t recognize the number. Fifty-fifty chance it was an auto-dialer wanting to sell her solar panels for her home—which she had already installed last year in order to get the tax break. Except those salespeople rarely used video.
She tapped accept. “Hello?”
“Are you Chief Tig Anderson?” A slight accent she couldn’t recognize came through in the question. Perhaps Middle Eastern, or perhaps something ancient.
Tig jumped when the video feed started.
The woman looked like Inanna from Cerissa’s beach video. She had long, dark hair, tightly curled running down her shoulders, white skin with a large, straight nose, and bejeweled fingernails.“I’m Chief Anderson. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Inanna. You left a message with my answering service.”
Praise the Ancestors. Finally. “Yes, thank you for returning my call. You met one of our community members in Hawaii, Dr. Cerissa Patel-Vasquez.”
“I recall.”
“She told me you sent silver stakes to your children and to some of those who helped contain Jonathan, including me.”
“That is correct.”
How to ask this delicately? Start with a simple question she knew the answer to. “Have you met Petar Petrov?”
“Cerissa told me what happened. Though, as I explained to her, I did not know the man.”
Tig drummed her fingers on her desk. She’d already checked Inanna’s alibi. “Would it be possible for us to meet in person?”
“I’m on the other side of the globe. Finding a time to call when we’re both awake has been difficult.”
So that explained the delay. “I see. I called to ask for the names of all the people who received a silver stake.”
“Because one was used to kill Petar?”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t want you bothering my children. I have spoken to most of them, and none sound responsible. Maybe if you narrowed the field.”
Tig wasn’t sure if those conversations were a good thing or a bad thing. Inanna may have put the culprit on alert already. However, nervous criminals sometimes made stupid mistakes when they thought Tig was closing in.
The real question was whether to share additional information with Inanna to prime the pump. “The murder weapon had a leather-tooled inscription”—Tig shuffled through the papers on her desk to find the list of translations—“‘To my beloved son.’”
“I am impressed. Can you read the ancient cuneiforms?”
“We had an expert at the British Museum translate them.”
Inanna laughed. “Still, to recognize the script is impressive.”
Yeah, thank Ari for that.
“Do you know which of your children received that particular dedication?”
“Yes, but I am not sure I want your community to have that information. You have already killed one of my sons. I do not want you to kill another.”
Frustration bled through Tig. Inanna knew the short list of who might have murdered Petar. How to pry it out of her? “I understand completely. But the killer might have stolen the stake from your son. If he knows who the thief is, he could point us in the right direction.”
“And if it was one of my sons who wielded the weapon, perhaps he had a good reason to kill this Petar.”
“Inanna, as you told Cerissa, you’ve been around for three thousand years. Do you believe in justice?”
“I believe in survival. What mortals call justice is rarely meted out. Sometimes, it is just legalized killing.”
“Whoever murdered Petar bound him in silver and tortured him for answers before driving the stake through his heart. Does that sound like something one of your sons would do?”
“Fair point.” Inanna shifted to look away from the camera, her gaze steely. “I will give you the names, but you must promise to take no action against them until you have hard proof.”
“We use the proven beyond a reasonable doubt standard in Sierra Escondida. And if it is your child, you would be welcome to witness the trial and speak on his behalf.”
“That will not be necessary—not if they have killed in this way. The names you seek are Aman Mekonen, Paulo Torres, Dal Hyun, Fyodor Popov, and Callistus Tedder.”
Jackpot . Inanna wasn’t Petar’s maker, so the stake wasn’t his, but Callistus had received one. She’d bet her week’s salary he no longer possessed it. “My understanding is that Callistus lives in Poway. Where do the others live?”
“Hmm. Aman is somewhere in Europe. He moves around a lot. Paulo has a beach house in Thailand, and Dal is in Honolulu. I saw him when I visited. Fyodor is part of the Russian immigrant community that settled near Sacramento.”
Tig opened the spreadsheet of Petar’s data Jayden had compiled. There. She’d thought the name sounded familiar. Fyodor was one of Petar’s clients. After a quick search in V-Trak, she found his most recent phone number and address.
“Thank you, Inanna. That helps. Is there anything more you can think of that might help us identify the killer?”
“I am not the person to ask that of. As I said, proof, not opinion, should be your watchword.”
It was, but opinion sometimes helped steer Tig in the right direction. People rarely got a reputation that wasn’t earned. “Thank you. If you think of anything, please, reach out to me.”
When the vidcon ended, she took a brief break to steady her nerves. Speaking to the ancient vampire had thrown her. She grabbed an insta-heat clone blood pouch from her desk and fed as she considered the new information. It was good to have confirmation Petar wasn’t Inanna’s son, which meant the stake wasn’t his. Unless Inanna was a superb actress.
The next call was critical, and she had to bring her A game. When Fyodor answered, she introduced herself, then told him about Petar’s murder.
“I heard bad news,” he said, his voice sad. “Terrible. Just terrible.”
“Have you been to Mordida recently?”
“Why you ask?” Whiplash fast, the sadness fled from his voice, replaced with suspicion.
“Your maker, Inanna, gave you a silver stake?”
“ Da , I receive stake in mail.” He snorted into the phone. “So that’s who it’s from.”
Tig shook her head. Why hadn’t Inanna enclosed a note or something? “Have you been to Mordida?”
“ Nyet . I just returned from Alaska. Vacation. Package with stake was waiting for me.”
“Do you still have your stake?”
“Of course. I figure the sender would identify themselves as friend or foe soon. In meantime, I lock it away.”
“Would you mind taking a picture of your stake—especially the leather-tooled inscription—and text it to me at the number I’m calling on?”
He laughed. “ Da . I will.”
“Thank you.” Tig wanted the photo to prove Fyodor still had his, and that it wasn’t currently in her evidence locker. She cleared her throat. “Um, I’m sorry to ask this, but when did you last speak to Petar?”
“A month ago? I’d have to check my phone. He was excited to perform magic at Henry Bautista’s wedding. He could be such a hooy morzhovy when it came to his magic.”
Of all the languages she knew, Russian wasn’t one of them. “Huey marzhvy?”
His laugh deepened at the way she butchered the word. “As we say in Russia, a walrus penis. Here, you might say he’s a dick. We like more specific imagery.”
Tig bit back her own laugh. She could do without that level of specificity. “Did Petar mention who else he told about his trip to Sierra Escondida?”
“Anyone who would listen. The world.”
Wonderful. That narrowed it down by zilch. “Did you tell anyone?”
“I wouldn’t want to get persons in trouble—”
“They don’t need to know you told me. But we must speak with those who knew, so we can narrow the field, which might lead us to the killer.”
“ Da . I get it, as you Americans say. My brother, Callistus, called sometime after I spoke to Petar.”
“Callistus Tedder?”
“ Da . He was asking about Anna.”
“Anna Balmer?”
“His child, the one who ran away.”
“I see.” Now she was getting somewhere. “Go on.”
“He wanted to know if I’d seen Anna. My brother is obsessed with her.”
“Had you?”
“I told him no. She’s disappeared because, well, Callistus can be a hooy morzhovy , too. He asked if I knew anyone in Sierra Escondida. I don’t. I mean, I’ve heard of Henry Bautista from the treaty negotiations, but I’m not his friend. I told Callistus about the funny coincidence, that my bookie was going there for Henry’s wedding. Callistus asked if I knew the date. I didn’t.”
Okay, okay. What did that tell her? Callistus knew Petar would be in Sierra Escondida, but not precisely when. Did Callistus call Petar and ask him? There was more than one “private number” that called Petar’s phone, which Petar answered, probably because he had clients who intentionally blocked their numbers from showing on caller ID to keep their bets secret.
And, despite his denials, despite blaming everything on Gabriel, Callistus wanted to find Anna. That much was clear.
Tig had one more question. “Did Callistus mention receiving a silver stake?”
“ Nyet . I didn’t tell him. He didn’t tell me. And our talk was before I left for vacation in Alaska. I didn’t have stake yet.”
“Thank you. If you think of anything that might help me catch Petar’s murderer, you have my number.”
“ Da . But maybe you tell me, how do I collect winnings from a dead man?”
“I think his heirs will take care of payment and collection. It may take them time to access his accounts to do so. We’ve issued a death certificate, so they should be able to soon, but banks are cautious, and those things take time. I’ll pass on your request.”
“ Spasibo . Much appreciated. I’ll be patient.”
“Oh, one more question.” She might as well close this hole while she had the opportunity. “Do you know who Petar’s maker was?”
“ Da . Vlad from Romania.”
“Is he still alive?”
“Last I heard. I’ll send you contact information. He deserves a death notice.”
“Thanks, Fyodor.”
They said their goodbyes, and someone knocked at her office door. She glanced over to see Jayden standing there. She stripped off the headset, tossing it on the desk, and fluffed her short afro where the headband had squashed it. “I’ve made some progress.”
“So have I. Remember the list of fake names we put together? I finally had time to lift the fingerprints from the pages.”
“But the fingerprints don’t matter. Cerissa can’t extract V-DNA from them.”
“Like we agreed, I collected them to close the loop, to have tangible evidence to demonstrate that both Gabriel and Callistus handled the stolen list. But when I looked at the list under our digital magnifier, I found a small trace of blood along the edge. I’m guessing from a paper cut. I want to have Cerissa analyze it. The sample is small.”
Surely the Lux scientist could leave Karen’s bedside for thirty minutes to help them catch a killer? Tig put her headset back on. One more call might crack the case.