Chapter 34
Dagger
We entered Latona’s right as they opened at noon. Everything screamed class, from the mahogany tables, accents in polished brass and mix of leather and velvet seating options. High-end liquor lined the shelves and fine champagne fattened the fridges along the wall.
A lone bartender gently dusted champagne flutes with a spotless white dish towel.
He greeted us with a broad, fangy smile as we surveyed the empty tables.
I showed my badge to the vamp. He looked about my age, but for all I knew he could have been well over a hundred. “Afternoon, sir. I’m Detective Pierce, this is Detective Eglauf. We’re here to investigate a possible vermin problem here in your bar.”
The bartender fidgeted with one side of his bow tie, squinting. “Vermin? I’m confused. There must be some mistake, detectives.”
Teddy Bear, arms crossed, stooped to level a glower on the bartender. “That so? We heard vermin might be crawling about here. Rats, snakes, cockroaches. For all we know, this place is infested.”
The vamp cleared his throat with a soft gulp and a smile. “There’s, uh, nothing like that here.” He gestured across the fancy establishment with an open arm. “As you can see, we keep a high standard of cleanliness for our customers.”
The surfaces were immaculate but the air damn sure wasn’t.
Wisps of stale cigar and spilled champagne gone sour irritated my honed nostrils.
That was to be expected in a place where the rich came to party.
There was something else though. Sweat? Adrenaline?
I couldn’t quite make it out, but it was even less pleasing than Teddy Bear’s Scottish splash-on sewage.
My jaguar growled his own distaste for the smell.
I clipped my badge back onto my belt and focused on the bartender’s face. The lips could lie. The eyes never did. “Some vermin prefer it clean.”
“They do?” The bartender subtly leaned away, intimidated, but I couldn’t be sure if the sweat on his lip was just a byproduct of Teddy Bear towering over him.
Perusing the liquor bottles, I casually blurted, “Conrad Marchand.”
“Uh, excuse me, Detective?” His eyes went a little too doe-like, a bit too Bambi, for my liking.
I fixed my stare on his and pulled out another name syllable by syllable. “Armand Vincenzo.”
His eyelids peeled back before returning to their previous look of confusion. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s happening here. Am I supposed to know these gentlemen?”
He was a solid bronze-level bullshitter. Probably had plenty of practice. Tone and body language largely believable, feigning ignorance well, he might have easily fooled a rookie or a less-experienced cop.
Unfortunately for him, he was dealing with the king of bullshitters.
“Just a couple of names on my mind. You’ve obviously never heard of them though, unfortunately.” I scanned the fridges, whistling softly. “Fancy shit. You got a beer here somewhere?”
He shuffled along to a fridge on the bar’s far side and hurriedly popped the top on a slender green bottle, handing it to me with a sheepish grin.
I swigged the chilled liquid’s biting bubbles and enjoyed its ice-cream froth as I checked out the label. “German. Nice. Expensive too, I bet. How much I owe you?”
He knocked his eyes upward, smiling. “No charge for New Omaha’s finest. Enjoy.”
I raised the bottle in casual salute. “Mighty nice of you. Jackie, you thirsty? It’s good stuff.”
Teddy Bear shook his head. “Trying to cut down.” He fixed his glare on the bartender, clearly also having clocked the vamp’s subtle bullshit. “Alcohol tends to bring out my violent side.”
The bartender swallowed hard.
Clunking the half-empty bottle down on the bar, I unzipped my vest and scanned the joint. I could feel my jaguar helping me as I looked, enhancing every detail, no matter how small, searching for clues.
“Oh, by the way, what’s your name, buddy?” I asked, leaning into the bar, putting on my friendliest pretense.
“Terrence, sir. Terrence Torsten.”
“Well, Terrence Torsten”—I chugged from the beer again—“I appreciate the free drink. And I think we’ve obviously been misinformed about the vermin, some kids playing a prank or something, so we’ll leave you in peace.”
The vamp’s shoulders eased, and he spoke with a slightly trembling grin. “No problem at all. You’re always welcome to drop in for a drink, detectives.”
“Thanks, we’ll bear that in mind. But, uh, I don’t know, Jackie.
Maybe we should take a quick look round, just for a few minutes?
” I smiled at the bartender reassuringly.
“Just procedure. We’ll be out of your hair before you know it.
Our lieutenant’s a real ball breaker for going by the book, if you catch my drift. ”
Terrence hesitated, polishing the champagne flute in his grasp a little too vigorously as he cranked out a forced smile. “Of course, of course. Feel free. You’ll be wasting your time in here though.”
I splayed my palms toward the chic surroundings. “Better wasting it in here than out in that cold wind.”
Teddy Bear and I lazily strolled between the booths and tables of the expansive bar. Cracking jokes and keeping it casual.
Searching for signs of vermin.
Latona’s had plenty to scrutinize too. It was fucking huge.
It had a large dance floor, a stage with a grand piano, seating for a few hundred, easy.
Over in the far corner was a glass door, beyond which I could see circles of ruby-red armchairs and glass-protected shelves filled with leatherbound books.
“Hey, Terrence, what’s that part over there? ”
“That’s the cigar lounge, Detective. Any vermin in there would have run away from the smell long ago, I can assure you.” His smile had a tight edge. “Can’t stand the things myself. You two fine officers are welcome to a quality Cuban on the house though, if that’s your thing?”
Cuban cigars were illegal in the United States and therefore, New Nebraska too. Someone higher up the food chain was giving Latona’s a pass. I let the small potatoes slide so the big ones could tumble. “Nah, we’re good. You mind if we pop our heads in, take a quick look?”
Clinking bottles of pre-mixed vamp cocktails onto the shelves, he said, “Uh, sure. I’ll warn you though, it’s musty in there. Can’t get rid of the smell no matter what cleaning stuff I use.”
“Thanks for the heads up. We’ll—”
“Can I, uh, just ask one favor if you look around in there, please, detectives?” he asked, the words booming across the bar’s broad expanse, as Teddy Bear clasped the glass door’s steel-pole handle.
“What is it?”
“The books. They’re, uh, behind protective glass for a reason. There are a lot of first editions, rare copies, signed ones, some are worth thousands. If one of them gets damaged, even during police business, it’s my ass.”
I smiled warmly and gave the thumbs up. “Don’t worry, buddy, we won’t touch what we can’t afford.”
Teddy Bear and I stepped through, closing the glass door behind us. The air was indeed musty as fuck.
Looking across the lounge’s plush decor, Teddy Bear snorted. “Don’t touch the books, eh? Does he think we were fuckin’ born yesterday? Maybe I’ll wipe my arse on them. And him. Lying wee bastard.”
I grunted my agreement. “You getting anything?” Bears had the best sense of smell of all shifters. Odors that only grazed my nostrils would flood Teddy Bear’s with ease.
He raised his nose, drinking in the air. “I am. I wish I wasn’t, but I am.”
“Well?” I prodded.
“Blood. Young girls’ blood. Fresh. But they’re alive. Kids. Can’t be more than fifteen, sixteen years old, tops.”
“I’m catching hints of sweat and adrenaline too.”
“Aye, they’re scared. Whatever’s being done to them… it’s grim.”
I took in the tall bookcases coating the walls. “So you’re telling me there are young girls alive somewhere in this place, hidden away? You’re sure?”
“Aye, I’m sure.” He clutched his Smith & Wesson 500 by its rubber grip. “And I’m gonna find them by introducing that bartender to my gun-barrel.”
Teddy Bear was the proud father of seven cubs, four of which were teenage girls. Where most people felt visceral contempt for child abusers, his hatred was actively deadly.
I grasped his baseball-mitt hand and lifted it off his revolver. “Hold off, big guy. Trust me, okay?”
He huffed so hard the air smacked my face. “Fuckin’ hell, what’s the problem?”
“We can’t call in the troops or shove guns in people’s faces based on a sketchy bartender and your nostril power. Think of all the political heavyweights that like to party here. If we find nothing, we’ll be back in beat uniforms before you know it.”
“I know I’m not wrong, but I take your point. Go on.”
“So, you go back through, you tell Terrence that we’ve sensed rat urine, or seen droppings, or a shed snakeskin, or whatever. The guy’s not stupid, he’ll know he’s fucked either way. The main thing is, you don’t let him leave.”
“This has got to be a coven property. I feel it in my gut. He’s gonna call them for backup, if he hasn’t already. Could be at least a hundred vamps.”
I placed a palm on Teddy Bear’s shoulder. “Then use your natural Scottish charm to confiscate his phone. Check for any recent calls. Get the entrance key off him and lock the place up while I scout around. I find something, bingo. I call it in.”
“Fine. Just scout fast. Those girls need help.”
My jaguar vision was already highlighting suspect book spines from among the myriad. “Have a little faith, Jackie. When have I ever half-assed a case?”
He let out a begrudging grunt of agreement.
I clasped his shoulder, our gazes locked in lethal seriousness. “Don’t let that scumbag leave. Handcuff him to a railing, knock him out if you have to, but for fuck’s sake, Jackie, don’t kill him. We both know he could well be part of the Marchand coven. We need to know what he knows.”
He nodded. “I won’t kill him. I’ll just give him a slap if need be.” Gesturing to the bookshelves with his eyes, he said, “Call out if you need me.”