CHAZ SMOKED under the awning of a café. The smell of bagels and muffins mixed with the afterscent of rain. The sun had set long ago, but the black van outside a local nightclub hadn’t moved for three hours. Reggie was inside the van, Chaz knew, but there wasn’t much he could do until Reggie did something—anything—that warranted police intervention.
Reggie’s apartment had been easy enough to find, but when Chaz found it empty, he’d canvassed the building to see what kind of car Reggie drove. When Chaz found the van under the neon-purple glow of the nightclub’s sign, he’d parked himself in the café and waited. Now, though, his last cigarette was almost out and he was losing his patience.
A flash from Reggie’s van. A witch with mauve hair and a butterfly tattoo over her neck walked hand in hand with the mayor’s daughter. They laughed and turned to one another, hugged, and then made out by the side of the club. The bouncer, an actual giant with dark skin, turned away as if he didn’t see anything, including another flash from Reggie’s van.
“There we go,” Chaz murmured. “Stolen photo equipment. Got you now.”
Chaz dropped his cigarette in a puddle and hurried across the street, not bothering to wait for the crosswalk. Another flash from the van gave Chaz the cover he needed to swoop into Reggie’s line of vision.
“Hey, man, what the fuck?” Reggie cried out. A cigarette hung between his lips, nearly down to the filter. “I’m working here.”
“So am I. I need to ask you some questions, Reggie.”
Reggie dropped the camera in his lap. His body visibly tensed, but he didn’t book it. The van was off, so it would take more than just hitting the gas to get away. Reggie’s hands were both visible, too, so there was no chance he was darting for a weapon. A quick sweep of the interior of the van displayed a bunch papers and crumbled twenties but no gun. No visible gun anyway. For a guy who was supposed to be a germophobe, his car was a mess.
“And what the fuck do you want? I have a permit. I can do this,” Reggie said.
“Let me see.”
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
Chaz grabbed his badge from his pocket and flashed it. Reggie let out a hiss. “Not so fast. Let me read these numbers here, so I know you are who you say you are.”
“I know who you are, Charles Reginald. Or Reginald Halifax.”
Again Reggie’s body stiffened, but he still didn’t book it. He eyed the numbers of Chaz’s badge and the name. “Well, Chip MacDonald, I’m glad that the streets are being protected. I have a feeling, though, that other than me jumping the halfway house, you have nothing on me.”
Reggie removed his PI certification from the visor of the car and showed Chaz.
“Checks out?”
“Not likely,” Chaz said. “I suspect you used fake prints on this.”
“Suspect. Sounds like no evidence. And since you’ve got a bit of a vamp problem in this city, you’ll let me go with my trespasses, yeah? Bigger fish to fry, always bigger fish to fry. Like the mayor’s daughter here.” Reggie held out his camera, flashing it near Chaz’s face.
Chaz grabbed the lens of the camera and knocked it against the window frame. “Don’t take my picture.”
“Not you, man. The young thing with the witch. The Bitch and the Witch, I’m thinking for the next article.” He laughed. Chaz slammed his camera down again. The lens cracked with an audible noise and Reggie’s laughter turned to rage.
“How dare you. I’m going to report you. Write you up as the crazed cop.”
“No, you won’t. Because I also have you on stolen photo equipment. A fake PI license, plus skipping your halfway house, and intimidating the mayor’s daughter. You’re going down while I’m getting an accommodation.”
Reggie sneered. “The police are fucking corrupt here.”
“No, we’re doing the best we can with what we have. And you have something I want.”
“I do, do I? You can take the damn camera since I won’t be able to take any more fucking photos now.” Reggie sulked in his seat. His dyed hair looked greasy, and his mustache had turned to a full beard. “I think I got enough info on the Witch and her Bitch anyway. I can always make shit up. Do you read the papers, Chip?”
“The tabloids?” Chaz surveyed the car again and noticed the insignia for the Citizen’s Brigade on the visor. So, Reggie was writing for them. And that’s why he was taking photos—of the witch, not the mayor’s daughter. She was just collateral.
“I haven’t read them in a long time. But I need to ask you about another photo you took.”
“Take the camera.”
“I don’t want the camera. I want your phone.”
“My phone? What for?”
“You went to Artie’s house. You took a photo of a worker there. I want your phone and the photo back. Have you sent it?”
Reggie furrowed his brow, seemingly trying to figure out how or why Chaz knew about all of this. When he didn’t answer, Chaz grew impatient and slammed the already broken camera against the window frame again. “Don’t fuck with me, Reggie. I’ve had a long day. I’ll throw this license in the mud out here, then you’ll have to go down to city hall to get another.”
“All right, fine. Jesus. Just don’t breathe on me like that.” Reggie ran his hands along the inside of his jacket and produced a burner phone, plus a bottle of hand sanitizer. Chaz snatched the phone while Reggie added a glob to his palm and rubbed it in.
“I didn’t send the kid’s photo to anyone.”
“I’ll confirm that, thanks.” Chaz skimmed through Reggie’s contacts and noticed the same number for Igby, the reporter, interspersed with Chinese takeout and pizza places. So this guy really did work for the Brigade. Huh. Chaz didn’t recognize anything else on the phone, and there was no data plan whatsoever. No way for the photo to be sent. When he found the image of Sully, his heart sank. Though the image was small and the quality awful, Sully was clearly shocked. He was only wearing his black boxer briefs and the camera caught his profile. The next one, where Reggie had told him to smile, had Sully bearing his teeth but not smiling. There was no way that could be counted as a smile.
“There. You happy?”
“No,” Chaz said. “Why the hell did you take these?”
“I take a lot of photos. Gets lonely out here waiting for people to show. You know….” Reggie made a slow motion with his hand. Jerk off while waiting. Great. Chaz skimmed through the other folders and saw even more photos of men without shirts. Some of them looked familiar, but he couldn’t be sure.
“You get around.”
“I get lonely. Are we done?” Reggie said, gesturing between the two of them. “Because my girl is gone and you should be out fighting vampires.”
Chaz furrowed his brow. That was the second time now Reggie had mentioned vamps. “You keep mentioning vamps. You worried about something?”
“I don’t know. Are you guys worried?” Reggie grinned and tapped his Citizen’s Brigade insignia. “I look into stuff for Igby.”
“Well, then. What do you know?”
“Only that you got a vamp out on the loose. And he’s targeting other vamps.”
“But the first victim…,” Chaz started to argue, but Reggie just shook his head.
“Everyone knows about Patrick Mortimer. Mermaid boy. He went to live in a den before his body was found.”
“How do you know that?”
Reggie shrugged. “I get around.”
“Fuck you. We need that information. You need to call us.”
Reggie cut Chaz off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don’t work for you. I work for the people. And anyone who pays me. I have no obligation to report to you.”
Chaz clenched his jaw. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this, but he was desperate. Everything about today made him desperate. The woman who got away was the last straw. “What if I paid you?”
Reggie laughed.
“I’m serious. If I hired you to find information about vamps in the area, would you?”
Reggie assessed Chaz with a quick flick of his eyes. “And why would the good-old-boys club of the detective agency pay me?”
“You know they wouldn’t. There’s no point in investigating monster-on-monster crime.”
“I know that. But why do you personally, Chip MacDonald, want me to investigate? You’re part of that boys club, so why are you suddenly standing out now?” Reggie tilted his head. His gaze skimmed over Chaz’s body. “Is the boy on that phone a vamp and you’re worried about him? Want him all for yourself?”
“Fuck you,” Chaz said. “You know he’s human.”
“Yeah, he tastes pretty good too. But I think you already know that.”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m asking you to look for vamps because I want the streets clean. I want the city to be safe again.”
“I can’t make the city safe. Sorry. Not in the job description.”
“But finding vamps is.”
Reggie shrugged. He didn’t say anything else, but Chaz knew he had him. He worked for Igby, not a cartel, and that made all the difference. He was trying to make the streets safe in his own roundabout way. Chaz felt better with the burner phone in his possession, and though it was super creepy that Reggie was taking pictures of workers to jack off to later, he wasn’t killing them. If money got Chaz what he needed, he could pay him.
“Look. Find me this person, okay?” Chaz wrote down Fatima Aleem and a quick description. “She’s a vamp who acted as a liaison between some church sanctuaries years ago. If I find her, I’m sure she’ll help me figure out the connections between the victims who are being killed now.”
Reggie took the card and tapped it against his chin. “And you’ll let me write the story?”
“Igby’s gotta be your editor. But sure.”
Reggie smiled, bearing blindingly white teeth. They offset his entire grungy image. He tucked the card away in his visor and asked for payment information. Chaz had some cash on him and handed it over, along with the phone number for his apartment.
“Give me a week,” Reggie said. “And you’ll get your answers.”
“Good. And stay away from Artie’s place, okay?”
Reggie made a face but nodded. He sighed at the broken camera in front of him and reached into the back. He pulled out a brand-new camera and went back to work staking out the nightclub. If not for the next gaggle of witches who came out the door, Chaz would have thought Reggie was wasting his time. It seemed obvious, even more than before, that all Reggie had to do was park somewhere and wait. All kinds of stories would come to him that way.
Chaz slid the flip phone into his breast pocket. One problem down but still so many more to go.