Night Of The Living Dandelion Part 5

"Hey, Rafe," I said, pa.s.sing by the bar. "How's it going?"

"Ask my brother," he answered with a grimace.

"Rafe's doing well," Marco said.

"That's not what you said earlier," Rafe countered. "You said I couldn't even-"

"That was an hour ago," Marco cut in. "You're improving."

"Improving?" Rafe asked. "How can I improve when you're always criticizing me?"

"It's not criticism," Marco said. "It's instruction."

I left them arguing and crutched down the hallway to Marco's office, sinking gratefully into one of the sling-back chairs that faced his desk.

Minutes later, Marco came in and closed the door. "What's up?"

"Two things. First, you need to know there's a nasty new rumor going around."

"About why Vlad abducted the Willis woman?" Marco sat down in the chair next to mine. "I've already heard it."

"Lottie says everyone is talking about it, and after seeing all the people across the street, I believe her. It was unnerving walking down here, like I was on the set of The Birds."

"Sorry, babe," he said, taking my hand. "Until the cops clear Vlad, we're stuck with it."

"It's not us I'm worried about. If people work themselves into a frenzy, they'll turn against Vlad. I'll be very surprised if he wants to stay in New Chapel after he hears the latest."

"Vlad is free to go whenever he chooses. I'd be disappointed, though. I think he'll do a great job running the place-if I have to leave."

"If you have to leave. Let's not jump the gun. And that brings me to the second thing. Today is Friday."

Marco gave me a blank look.

"Friday, Marco. Dinner with the family. The night we make our announcements."

"Ah," he said.

I threaded my fingers through his. "I want us to announce our engagement together, and then have you explain about your letter, because I know there will be lots of questions. But I know you're not going to feel comfortable leaving the bar this evening, so I'm not sure what to do. If we don't attend the dinner, I'm not sure I can get Jillian to keep quiet for another week."

There was a rap on the office door.

"Hold that thought," Marco said, and got up and opened the door. I turned to see Reilly standing in the doorway in his police uniform. He looked unusually somber.

"Hey, Sean, what's up?" Marco said.

"I just wanted to stop by and check on a few things."

"Come in and have a seat," Marco said, indicating the chair he'd just vacated.

Reilly sat down, his thick leather belt and gun holster creaking. He pulled a five-by-seven glossy color photo out of a manila envelope and showed it to Marco, who was leaning one hip on the corner of his desk. "Do you recognize this woman?"

Marco studied it. "Is this the missing woman?"

"Her name is Lori Willis," Reilly said. "Ever seen her in the bar?"

"She looks familiar," Marco said, then pa.s.sed the photo tome.

At first glance Lori Willis appeared to be in her late forties. She had long ash blond hair, bright red lips, and brown eyes rimmed with heavy black liner and glittering purple eye shadow. She wore dangling crystal earrings, a matching choker necklace, and a low-cut silver evening gown. A more careful look revealed heavy bags beneath her eyes and more than a few crow's-feet in the corners. It also showed over-processed hair, a nose obviously shortened and pinched in just above the tip, and lips fattened by injections. I revised her age upward about ten years.

"It looks like one of those glamour photos," I said, handing it back.

"Parkview Hospital supplied it," Reilly said.

That was her personnel file photo?

"Have you heard from Vlad yet?" Reilly asked Marco.

"No. I don't expect to. He doesn't start until five o'clock."

Reilly took off his hat, smoothed his hair, and put the hat back on, a sign that he wasn't pleased with what he was hearing. "Vlad still isn't answering his door or his phone, and he hasn't responded to any of the messages we've left. From what we can tell, he doesn't own a car-no registration listed at the BMV-so we can't even use that to indicate whether he's home."

Marco folded his arms over his chest, which was the equivalent of Reilly's hat signal. "Is there a reason the detectives can't wait until five to talk to him?"

Reilly scratched his nose. Another signal. It translated to: Yes, there's a reason, and now I'm going to lie as to why. "We want to make sure he's safe."

"Ha," I said.

"We received a tip that there might be trouble," Reilly added, giving me a frown.

"What kind of trouble?" Marco asked. No signal for me to interpret.

"Rumors of vigilantes out to catch a vampire. We're taking that to mean Vlad."

Marco studied his friend for a moment. "Are you working the abduction case?"

Reilly leaned back in his chair, clearly trying to play it cool. "Yeah, why?"

"Because maybe I wouldn't have told you some of the things I did. Why didn't you say something at the start?"

Reilly shrugged. "You know how it is, Marco. We're friends, but I've still got a job to do. And besides, if the guy really is in trouble, I'm doing you a favor."

Marco let it pa.s.s, but his body language showed that he was now on his guard. "Any validity to the rumors about the vigilante group?"

"We believe they're just a bunch of hotheaded males who don't like the female attention Vlad's been getting. Might even be some of your regular customers. We're taking the threat seriously in any case. No one wants a posse in town."

"Why did you want to know if the Willis woman had been here?" Marco asked.

"We think Vlad made contact with her before she disappeared."

"Do you have a reason for thinking that?" Marco asked.

Reilly studied Marco for a moment, then sat forward, hands on his knees. "Okay, what I say here doesn't leave this room." He glanced at me. "Got that?"

I nodded. Women's signals were much more straightforward.

"In going through Willis's PDA," Reilly explained, "we found a dinner engagement at the Calumet Casino boat's Tumbling Dice Restaurant at nine o'clock on Tuesday evening. We contacted the restaurant, but they couldn't tell us anything because the reservation hadn't been made under her name. We got a list of patrons who'd dined there that evening and contacted them, but they're all clean.

"However, there was a party of two that didn't show up Tuesday-a Mr. Vlad Serban and guest. And the phone number listed for that reservation was not in service. So you can see why it's imperative that we talk to Vlad ASAP."

Marco was scowling as he walked around his desk and sat in his chair. "In the first place, Sean, whether Vlad knew the Willis woman or not, he wouldn't have made a reservation for an evening he was on duty at the bar. And I can vouch for him being here Tuesday evening."

"Did he take a break?" Reilly asked, pulling out his notebook and pencil.

"Of course he took a break," Marco said. "For thirty minutes. He ate a sandwich and went back to work. Secondly, if Vlad had made a dinner reservation, how can you a.s.sume his guest was Lori Willis? It could've been anyone. And last, the woman is a little long in the tooth for a healthy thirty-year-old male."

"When was his night off?" Reilly asked.

Marco typed something into his computer, watching the monitor. "Wednesday."

Reilly took off his hat, smoothed his hair, then put the hat back on. "Wednesday was the day Willis was reported missing."

Marco's jaw muscles tensed. "Do you have anything that positively implicates Vlad? Fingerprints? DNA? A witness?"

"We've lifted several sets of prints but haven't identified all of them," Reilly said tersely.

"So the answer is no," Marco said.

"What do you want me to do, Marco? Ignore the connections to Vlad? Is that what you'd do if you were in my shoes?"

I'd kept quiet until this point, but as both men seemed to be taking their argument to a higher level, I decided to jump in with my two cents.

"Let's look at the big picture," I said. "The woman's car was abandoned behind Vlad's building with her purse inside containing a piece of hospital stationery with Vlad's name and number on it, and her PDA containing a restaurant reservation that had been phoned in by a person claiming to be Vlad. Doesn't that smell like a setup to you, Reilly? I mean, how many more ways could someone try to pin the blame on the poor guy?"

Reilly did his hat trick again, meaning he was annoyed with me. "I guess that remains to be seen, doesn't it?"

I looked at Marco and gave him a shrug. I'd tried.

"Vlad needs to get himself printed right away if he wants to clear his name," Reilly said, standing up. "He's not doing himself any favors by being MIA today."

"He's not MIA unless he doesn't show up for his s.h.i.+ft," Marco said.

The men glared at each other.

"Just make sure Vlad gets in touch with us," Reilly said. "Maybe he can tell us who might be trying to frame him. And be sure to caution him to watch his back."

After Reilly left, I said, "I've never heard you guys argue like that."

"Reilly should've been straight with me from the beginning," Marco grumbled. "I don't like being grilled under the pretense of having a favor done for me."

"Maybe it wasn't a pretense, Marco. Even though Reilly is officially on the case, he's still your friend. Sure, he's suspicious of Vlad, but he is a cop. It goes with the territory. As he said, he can't ignore the evidence. And stop looking at me like I'm siding with Reilly. I'm just trying to understand where he's coming from."

Marco picked up the phone, dialed a number, and waited a long minute before slamming down the receiver. "Where the h.e.l.l is Vlad?"

He pocketed his car keys and rose.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To find my AWOL buddy."

CHAPTER FIVE.

The Casa Royale had been a church in its first life. After a century of use and a lot of structural disintegration, it had been sold to an enterprising developer who gutted the insides and remodeled it into modern apartments. The Gothicstyle building was located four blocks north of the square, normally a nice walk from Bloomers. Because of my injury, however, Marco drove us there, which gave me the opportunity to discuss the family dinner with him.

"I'm sorry, Suns.h.i.+ne, but I don't think I should leave the bar this evening. Let Jillian tell the family we're engaged. I'm sure they're all expecting it. We can let them know about the letter next Friday."

"Having Jillian make the announcement is not how I want my parents to find out. Imagine how hurt your mom would be to hear from my cousin that her son is getting married."

"Won't be a problem. I forgot to invite her."

"Marco!"

"I'm sorry, babe. With everything going on, it slipped my mind. Look, call your mom right now and tell her. As soon as I park the car, I'll call mine, too."

"My mom is in cla.s.s-and don't tell me to leave a message."

"Then call your dad."

I sighed. He didn't understand mothers and their need to have firsthand information. "Never mind. I'll think of something."

"I have to be honest with you, Abby-I'm not too concerned about how our families find out. They're not children. They'll be happy for us no matter who tells them. And if not, what's the worst that can happen? They boycott our wedding?"

"My mom would sooner be dragged naked through town than miss my wedding."

"So elopement is out, then."

"I don't know, Marco. I'm so confused. Maybe we shouldn't make any plans about the wedding until we know what the army wants with you."

"You know, that's probably a wise move."

"I'll have to work on Jillian, then. When we were kids, I always managed to get her to do what I wanted."