Night Of The Living Dandelion Part 22

"I hope it was good news," I said. "We could use some of that."

"By the look on Dave's face," Rafe said, "I wouldn't count on it."

A hush fell over the room. I glanced around to find out what had caused it and saw all eyes on the television screens, where a photo of Lori Willis was being displayed.

"Turn up the volume," one of the men called.

"In area news," the anchor said, "New Chapel police are close to making an arrest in the murder of director of nursing Lori Willis."

At that, every head in the place turned toward Vlad, who was busily mixing a drink.

"Willis was last seen early Wednesday morning leaving the Calumet Casino," the anchor continued. "Her body was discovered in a garbage bin behind Down the Hatch Bar and Grill. Police are asking for anyone with information to call their tip line."

I heard low murmurs coming from several groups of men near the front and felt a new tension in the air. I glanced at Marco and saw his sudden alertness. He sensed it, too.

"Sit tight," Marco said quietly, as he got up and made his way toward the bar.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The rumblings ceased when Marco took the remote and clicked over to a sports channel. There was a watchful silence as he and Vlad headed toward Marco's office, but as soon as they were out of earshot, a buzz of conversation began.

I caught s.n.a.t.c.hes of whispers from people around me: "Is Vlad going to be arrested?" "Could he be guilty?" "Why is Marco letting him work here?" "Is Marco being duped?"

When Marco returned to our booth ten minutes later, Rafe and Evan were busy mixing drinks and taking payments, Gert and another waitress were delivering food and beverages, and customers were drinking, eating, and talking as though nothing had happened. Only the women at the bar seemed to have been affected. With Vlad gone, their numbers had decreased sharply. Chelsea, however, was still there, and seemed to be flirting with Rafe.

"Where's Vlad?" I asked Marco quietly.

"I told him to take a break. I gave him the opportunity to go home, but he didn't want to."

"Do you think that news report was about him?"

Marco sighed heavily. "I don't know, but I don't have a good feeling about it. According to what Dave told Vlad, the casino's surveillance videos are now a part of the prosecution's evidence against him. Vlad is going to meet with Dave at seven this evening to discuss strategy."

"Dave never meets clients in the evenings."

"Apparently he makes exceptions."

For vampires?

Gert stopped by our booth, tablet in hand. "You kids gonna eat tonight?"

"I'd like a big green salad and a bowl of French onion soup, please." After handling that raw steak, I was craving something as far away from red meat as I could get.

"Salad and a burger," Marco said. "Thanks, Gert."

"I thought we were gonna have trouble there for a while, boss," Gert said in a low voice. "Things seem pretty calm now, but the Garlic Party idiots are back across the street."

"Thanks for letting me know," Marco said. After Gert was gone, he said to me, "I think I'd better stick around here again this evening, Suns.h.i.+ne. Want to keep me company?"

So much for our dwindling number of evenings together. "Of course I do. I just need to check on Jillian. She's hiding in Bloomers' bas.e.m.e.nt because she thinks Claymore and her doctor are conspiring to poison her. She even wants to sleep down there."

"Is this the same woman who won't put her head on anything but a silk pillowcase?"

"The very same. I told you she's sick. And we can't get her to take her medicine."

"Maybe spending a night in the bas.e.m.e.nt will convince her she needs help. I've got blankets and a cot here. If you'd like, I'll carry them down after we eat."

Not a bad idea. If I made Jillian comfy down there, and she got hungry in the night, she'd eat her medicine-laced steak roll-ups. "I think I'll take you up on that."

Marco walked me to Bloomers carrying his folded cot and blankets, studiously ignoring the bunch across the street. One of them stepped forward and yelled, "Vampire lover! If the killer strikes again, it's on your head, buddy!"

"Did you say good-bye to your mom's student teacher?" Marco asked.

I eyed the protesters warily, admiring Marco's calm. "Yes, I said good-bye, but she barely noticed because she was busy flirting with Rafe."

Marco locked the shop's front door behind us, then stood at the window for a moment watching the marchers.

"I don't know how Vlad stands it," I said, switching to the wheelchair. "I'd be on the next train back to Chicago."

"I know the strain is getting to him. Still, he told me if he leaves now, those people across the street will think they've won, and everyone else will believe the rumors about him. One thing about Vlad, he isn't the kind to give up without a fight. The shame of it is that he likes it here. It's just idiots like them"-Marco hitched a thumb at the marchers-"who ruin it for him."

He turned away. "Let's get your cousin set up."

I preceded him to the kitchen. At the landing, I called downstairs, "Jillian, I have a cot and blankets for you. Marco is going to bring them down."

There was a sudden scuffling sound as Marco started down the steps. At the bottom, he pulled the cord to turn on the light, then called up to me, "I don't see her, Abby."

"She's hiding. Just leave everything by the Neiman Marcus bags. She'll find it."

He set up the cot, turned out the light, then jogged up the steps. "She has a place to sleep now."

"Jillian?" I called. "Did you hear that? You've got a bed now, plus food and water up here in the fridge. If you don't speak up, I'm going to lock you in the shop for the night. You can always call me, of course, but I'm leaving right now. This is your last chance."

"Go away," was her raspy reply.

I gave Marco a shrug. "Let's go. I'll call Claymore on the way and give him an update. If Jillian isn't better by morning, I'm going to call an ambulance and have her taken to the hospital."

We returned to Down the Hatch but ended up sitting in Marco's office because the place was packed. Vlad was back at the bar performing for the women as though the news report had never happened. So we took the opportunity to go over all the notes we'd made so far and to discuss the upcoming interview with Dr. Holloway. Marco was still a little nervous about me seeing him alone, so I a.s.sured him I had a plan.

"Want to elaborate on that?" he asked.

"I'm going to play to Holloway's ego. Self-centered people love to talk about themselves, and thinking that someone came all the way from Paris to see him is going to put him in an agreeable mood."

"Holloway's going to figure out your French persona is a sham. Why not be straightforward with him? Tell him you're investigating a murder and you need his input."

"Did straightforward work for you?"

Marco didn't answer.

"Don't worry. I've got it under control. If he catches on-when he catches on-I'll swap out one story for another, and he'll have no choice but to believe it. Who would lie twice?"

"And if your second story doesn't work?"

"O ye of little faith."

By nine o'clock the protesters had departed, so Marco felt comfortable leaving head bartender Chris, along with Evan, Rafe, and Vlad, tending bar, giving us a few precious hours to ourselves. But before we returned home, I asked Marco to make a quick stop at Bloomers to check on Jillian.

I unlocked the front door and Marco held it open for me, but inside, I didn't hear the familiar beeps of the security system. "Is someone here?" Marco asked, glancing around.

"It could only be Lottie or Grace, and they would turn on a light. I must have forgotten to set it when I left."

I switched to the wheelchair; then we made our way to the kitchen, where I found an empty plate on the counter. "Marco, look! Jillian ate the meat with the pills in them. I'd better call Claymore and tell him the good news."

"Wait, Abby." Marco bent down and picked up something off the floor. "Are these her pills?" He showed me two familiar-looking capsules. Just to be certain, I got the amber-colored plastic container from the fridge and opened it. Yep. Same pills.

"That does it. I'm going downstairs and force these pills down her throat. She's going to get better whether she wants to or not."

"No, you don't," Marco said, standing in front of my chair. "You'll fall."

"I'll scoot down on my rear. You don't know where the hiding spots are."

He frowned at me, and when that didn't work, he said, "Stay there until I get your crutches."

Carrying the Evil Ones, Marco headed to the bas.e.m.e.nt and waited at the bottom while I came down the old wooden steps one at a time. Luckily, I wasn't wearing light-colored pants. Once balanced, I saw the cot Marco had set up and noticed that Jillian's white silk sheets had been spread out on it and all of her various creams had been lined up on a shelf nearby. I went through the warren of rooms, checking a few tucked-away places, finally reaching the furnace room way in the back, where I had once hid from a murderer. But Jillian wasn't there.

"I told you she wasn't here," Marco said.

"She must have left the building while we were eating. That's why the alarm was turned off. I'll bet she memorized the security code when she worked here. I'll have to remember to change the code."

I headed for the steps. "I'd better alert Claymore that Countess Jillian von Dracula is on the loose."

It had been a busy, productive, yet ultimately frustrating day, so by the time I slid under the bedcovers, I was ready for a good night's rest. Lying in Marco's arms, drifting off to sleep, I heard him murmur, "I like having you as my partner."

I snuggled closer to him and said drowsily, "And I like being your partner."

Then, just as my eyelids fluttered closed, he said, "I'm meeting with Dave tomorrow to finalize my will."

It took a few minutes for his words to sink into my semisomnolent brain.

My eyes snapped open. His will?

I didn't get restful sleep that night, not only because I was worrying about my cousin but also because of that little bomb Marco dropped about his will. I figured he was merely being cautious, not wanting a probate court to decide what to do with his a.s.sets if, G.o.d forbid, something were to happen to him, but still, did I want to know about it?

Now that I did know, though, I was curious as to why he had told me. But he didn't mention it the next morning, so I hated to bring it up. It wasn't exactly a pleasant way to start the day.

"Hey, Gorgeous," Marco said, coming up behind me as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror. I had propped myself against the sink to put on my silver earrings.

I smiled at his reflection as he slid his arms around my waist. "Hey, yourself, Salvare."

"You look way too s.e.xy in that sweater and skirt to meet a doctor who's hot to trot. I'd better come with you."

"Don't worry. I know how to handle frisky men."

"Do you now? Want to show me?"

I turned to wind my arms around his neck and smile at him. "You bet, but let's save that show for tonight. I'll be late for work if we don't leave right now."

"Spoilsport." He handed me the crutches and helped me into my coat, then, before we left, stooped down to scratch Simon behind his ears. Simon rubbed his face against Marco's hand, then gazed adoringly at him and meowed.

"Is he hungry?" Marco asked me.

"No, he's had his breakfast. He's just saying, Don't go! Stay and play with me."

"Sorry, buddy," Marco said. "The boss says we have to go." He pretended to whisper to Simon, "You know what an iron will she has."

Iron will . . . Will . . . Last will and testament.

No, I was not going to ask about it. Not. Going. To. Ask.

"We're leaving you in charge, Si," Marco said, rising. "You're the man of the house now. Guard it well."

Well . . . Will . . . Oh, h.e.l.l. "Marco, why did you tell me you had your will drawn up?"

He opened the front door for me. "Because you're in it."

I was in his will? I waited for him to enlarge on that, but he didn't. So that was how I left it-hoping that I would never need to find out the details.

On the drive to Bloomers, I phoned Claymore to see if Jillian had turned up, but he didn't have any news. "I'm frantic with worry, Abby. The police won't help until she's been missing for two days. I've been driving all over town, hoping to spot her, I've got her parents out searching, and I've even alerted her favorite shops and restaurants in case someone sees her."

"I doubt she'd be dining out or shopping in her condition. Does she have her credit cards with her?"

"She should have them. She took her purse."

"I'll bet she checked into a hotel."

"Good thinking. I'll call around. Thanks, Abby."

"Call me the minute you find her, Clay."

Marco gave my hand a squeeze. "Jillian will turn up. Don't worry. This town isn't so big that a sick woman in a black cape can walk around unnoticed."