Chapter 12
The next morning, I woke up with the strong feeling that much of the mystery surrounding Doris’ murder revolved around the people in Alan’s pictures. He or someone else had jotted down some nicknames and first names on the backs of the photos, but names like One Eye and Big Al weren’t helpful unless I could find anecdotes that revealed who they really were or how they fit into the story. I dressed, thinking of the errands I needed to run.
As I climbed down the stairs, I called out, “Doris? Are you around?”
“Always.” She materialized in a loose white blouse and wide-legged trousers.
“Are the pictures we were looking at last night the bootleggers your father dealt with? I’m thinking there must be a local historical society that might have some information.”
“Yes, but there were others.”
I made coffee and put an English muffin in the toaster. “I’m guessing you can’t go through the papers and pictures yourself.”
“Not without blowing them all over.”
“Please don’t do that.”
Jack and Gillian came out, and Doris faded away.
“You don’t have to leave, Doris.”
But she didn’t return.
I buttered my muffin, wrapped it in a napkin, and poured my coffee into a travel mug. “I’m going to run some errands. Do you two have enough to do to keep you occupied?”
Jack opened his mouth, but Gillian cut him off. “We’re fine. Jack will have plenty to do when you get back with the supplies.”
Jack grumbled, but it sounded half-hearted.
On my way to pick up shelving supplies for Jack, I thought I’d stop by Crystalline to see if I could find earrings like the pair Samantha had been wearing when she stopped by.
Looking for parking, I drove around a couple of blocks and found a spot in front of the Comic Shack. I wondered if Ricardo was there today.
When I walked in, I saw a thin aging California hippie with a long, gray ponytail and a receding hairline who’d clearly grown old without managing to grow up, shelving comics.
“Hi, I’m looking for Ricardo.”
He straightened, grimaced, put his hands on his hips, and stretched backward. “Oh, man, I need a break anyway. Getting old. Ricardo’s helping Samantha out at Crystalline over on Main Street.” He held out a hand, “I’m Bobbo, the owner of the Comic Shack.”
“I’m Cass. I just moved here.” I shook his hand and looked around at all the toys among the comics and graphic novels. He obviously still read his own comics and played with the toys.
“I know. Ricardo told me.”
When Ricardo told me he worked at the Comic Shack, he related the story of Bobbo going to Comic-Con as a paunchy Deadman. The story went that he’d bought the wrong kind of latex for his mask before the Con and at the last moment in an effort to salvage his costume, he’d raced into a drugstore and asked for white pantyhose. When the clerk asked what size, he’d famously said, “Doesn’t matter. Just something that will fit over my head.” He apparently had no clue how the clerk would take his remark. I smiled. Meeting Bobbo, I could picture it all too clearly and understood why Ricardo had told me the story.
“Thanks. I know where Crystalline is. Ricardo has a lot of jobs.”
“College kid. He needs the money, and the odd hours suit him. Don’t know when he sleeps. Solid worker, though.”
“Thanks.” I headed for the door, paused, and turned. “Have you lived here long?”
He shrugged. “Since I graduated Santa Cruz. I really didn’t want to go back to Iowa. Really bad weather. Sure you don’t want a comic?” Bobbo held up an Avengers.
“Some other time.” I waved as I pulled the door shut behind me.
A good walk can really warm a person up, and by the time I arrived at Crystalline, I was toasty. I pulled my green leather gloves off as I entered the shop and stuffed them in my pocket. The shop smelled of scented candles and incense. The walls were hung with Celtic tapestries and eyelet material from which hundreds of pierced earrings were suspended. Crystals dangled from racks, sparkled off the countertops, and shone from the lighted display cases throughout the store. The net effect was a kaleidoscope of shifting colors and shadows as I moved among the rows.
Ricardo had his back to me as he crouched down, stocking shelves, his thick dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and black Doc Martens. A plain gold cross hung from one ear.
“Hi, Ricardo.” I rested my elbows on the counter next to the ‘Do Not Lean on the Counter’ sign.
Ricardo took the last crystal from the teakwood box, placed it in the glass display case, and stood. “Samantha mentioned she came by last night.”
“She had gorgeous earrings on. I had to come by to see her inventory.”
“Glad you came by. Samantha’s shop is more classically mystical. We need to think about the essence of each business we do a site for.”
“You’re the artist,” I said.
He smiled, clearly pleased. “Thanks. I’ll send you some links so you can get an idea of the range. For example, there are two relatively new gamers who’ve been hanging around. You might see them on your beach although not with us. They’re a bit more cybergoth. They highlight their clothes and accessories with neon. Looks cool under black light.”
“Okay. Really feeling old now.”
Ricardo laughed. “Relax. It’s all about subcultures, not age. They’re always morphing. You’ll never catch up, but you need to be aware of the range. If you’re rich and like craft beer, there’s always hipster.”
I frowned. “Hipster? Cab Calloway? Bebop?”
Ricardo’s look was purely pity. “That’s hepster to you. I mean modern urban hipster subculture morphed from alternate and boho. How old are you?”
“Thanks, kid. My grandparents had a great record collection. Record cabinet with beautiful inlaid doors. 78s.”
“Now I’m jealous. I don’t suppose you still have the cabinet and the records?”
“Sorry. Long gone but fondly remembered.”
“Pity. Vinyl’s the way to go. How do you like Samantha’s shop?”
I looked around, nodding and happy to no longer be displaying my ignorance. “Nice. Very New Age.”
“She’s a subculture all her own and always having visions. She says if she dreams about her father, then we’re gonna have the Big One.”
“The big one?”
“You know, the Mother of all Earthquakes that splits California off from the coast. Nevada beach front.”
“You do know that won’t happen, don’t you?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I know. Geological time frames and plate tectonics. I did study in school.”
My turn to smile. “Glad to hear it. Do you still game regularly?”
“Yeah. I was online last night. There was no game on the beach last night that I know of, but Samantha mentioned seeing vampire gamers or at least she thought they were. By the way, do you know why the beach is such a popular place for the game? There’s an optical illusion out by the point. Ever wonder why it’s called La Bahia de Las Lunas, the Bay of the Moons, not the Bay of the Moon?”
At that moment, Samantha, Ricardo’s boss and the owner of Crystalline, made an entrance. Her sun and moon robes draped off her large body, and her movement shimmered with the metallic thread of the embroidery that made the heavenly bodies appear to be orbiting. Coppery red hair cascaded in fuzzy waves halfway down her back, and she carried a gnarled wooden cane with a large crystal set into the top.
“Cass! How are you? Get to work, Ricardo. No dust. Not a speck on any of my crystals. It blocks their power.”
Ricardo sighed. “You do know that crystals are inanimate, don’t you?”
Samantha glared at him.
Ricardo turned back to me, a real smile playing across his lips now. “Later?”
“Absolutely.” I watched his retreating back for a moment, realizing that their relationship was more mother and son than boss and employee. He had true affection for her, and it was clearly returned. I smiled.
“What can I do for you?”
Samantha straightened some small pewter fantasy figurines on the countertop. A tiny wizard held a staff with a crystal in the end. Surely the smallest crystal in the shop.
“I wanted to see your shop.”
She waved an expansive arm to take in her stock. “Feel free to browse. You may want to pick up a few protective crystals and charms for your new place.” She leaned close. “Oh, my dear, I dreamt about Alan’s murder! I know who did it, but the police won’t listen to me.”
Samantha’s sincerity was overwhelming as she leaned toward me as if to convince me with her sheer presence.
“Oh?” My pulse quickened.
Samantha walked behind the counter, pulled a stool over, and arranged herself on it. “Vampires,” she said conspiratorially.
“Vampires?”
“He was drained of blood. There were two holes in his neck.”
“How do you know?”
“I have a friend in low places.” Satisfaction colored her smile.
“You know somebody who works for the police?”
She nodded.
“What else do you know?” Now I was curious.
“I know that the vampires were on that beach earlier in the evening. Ricardo couldn’t work for me that night. They needed a sacrifice so that Mia could go through her rite of passage and become one of them.”
“Wait a minute. One of whom? She’s a gamer. I didn’t know gamers had rites of passage.”
She snorted derisively. “Not gamers. Vampires. Blood suckers. The undead.”
Okay. “Admittedly, I don’t know a lot about vampires, but I thought you became a vampire by being bitten by a vampire. At least that’s the way it’s done in old movies. You die and rise from your coffin during the funeral and scare the heck out of everybody.”
“Hollywood.”
“Then how do you become a vampire?”
Again, she leaned forward as if we were sharing secret spy stuff. “You can be born a vampire child—the product of two vampires. Often the mother dies in childbirth, so this is not a popular option.”
“I can understand that.” Sure wouldn’t be my choice.
She went on as if I hadn’t said a thing. “Then you can be bitten on the neck. This is uncertain because some never rise again. If you are completely drained of blood, there can be no seed to transmogrify your blood.”
Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want that to happen. “So you can only become a vampire if you’re partially drained?” Drained or not, depending on who you believed, I was pretty sure that Alan wasn’t going to be rising from the dead any time soon.
Samantha nodded. “The third way is to go through an initiation.”
You’d better hope the vampire had a lot of self-control and wasn’t an overeater. “That’s what Mia was going through?”
“Yes. A mature vampire, preferably a born vampire, has to drain most of her blood and then let her drink from his veins. A victim must be tethered close by so that, when she arises with preternatural hunger, she can be sated with the victim’s blood. The victim: that’s Alan.” She leaned back, looking pleased with her dramatic presentation and certain that her explanation was the correct solution to explain the murder.
“So that would make Mia Jamison a vampire?”
She nodded.
“What about Ricardo?”
“Hasn’t been initiated yet.”
“Doesn’t it make you nervous having him working in your store? Having the others buy their stuff here?” I had to ask since she seemed so into this.
“They need us. Humans often do vampires’ bidding. They think I’m under their control,” she said conspiratorially.
“So how can Mia go around in the daylight?”
“It’ll get harder and harder for her until she finally has to become a creature of the night.”
“Uh huh. Okay. So you told the police that Mia is a vampire and the murderer?”
“I told them that the entire group must be held accountable.” She partially closed her eyes and looked away from me.
“But you just told me that the vampires leave you alone because they need you, yet it sounds to me as though you just betrayed them.”
She held a finger up to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone I told you. If we don’t stop them, they’ll turn the entire town into vampires. They’ve done it before. Have you been in some of the towns further south along the coast?”
“I won’t say a word.”
“I do happen to have some garlic here if you need…protection.”
I shook my head. “Nope. I’ve got plenty of garlic at home. But thanks. What I really need is a pair of the earrings you were wearing the other night.”
She reached behind a counter and whipped out a pair, laying them on a black velvet square.
“Exquisite.” I inhaled deeply. “I’ll take them.” I had a twinge, knowing I shouldn’t be recklessly spending my money.
She ran my card, put them in a cute little box and then in a bag. “Here you go.”
“Take care.”
I left the shop. If it were true that Samantha had told all of her friends and customers what she’d just told me, then she would be the next body on the beach.