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leather-clad wheel, I took the long way back to Diamond Suites. Bergman approved of the
digs right up to the point when our exclusive elevator opened into our exclusive entryway
and we discovered neither was as exclusive as advertised.
"Son of a bitch!" I whispered, pulling Bergman into the corner. The scene reminded me of
Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa Parks'. The smell of cheap aftershave. The trashed
living room. The sound of voices coming from the bedroom, two of them, hissing at each
other like a couple of pissed off geese.
I motioned for Bergman to stay put as I pulled Grief from its holster. He nodded at my
watch band and held up his fingers, telling me I might have twenty seconds of stealth built
up by now. I snapped the band and moved through the open door toward Vayl's bedroom.
"Look in the closet," said one of the intruders, a woman whose accent made me think of
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those overcrowded trailer parks that attract cops and tornadoes in equal doses.
"Vampires do not sleep in closets," said her male partner in an equally thick drawl.
"Besides, I already checked."
No movement or sound came from any other part of the suite, so I decided these two had
arrived without reinforcements.
I edged along the wall until I stood next to the open doorway.
"We never shoulda taken this job, Rudy," the woman whined. "Killing the undead is no
way to make a living."
"You're the one who wanted to go straight, Amy Jo, not me. I'd be just as happy popping
cheating husbands and rich old uncles."
"Now what kind of folks would we be if we kept going around murdering other people's
folks? Did you look under the bed?"
"Yes, I looked under the bed!" Rudy's voice held that defeated note of exasperation sung
by henpecked husbands the world over.
"Sounds like it's just not your day, Rudy," I said as I stepped into the doorway and took
careful aim. I picked the target closest to me, knowing in a moment the shock would wear
off, they'd react and I'd better be ready to shoot. Unfortunately my target was heavily
pregnant, so my own initial shock offset theirs and we all recovered at pretty much the
same time.
"Don't shoot!" Rudy yelled, jumping in front of Amy Jo and, no doubt, scoring lifetime
brownie points in the process.
"Behave yourselves and I won't have to," I said in the most professional voice I could
muster considering Amy Jo reminded me strongly of Evie, and she and Rudy both wore
black clothing covered with bright yellow, fabric-painted crosses. "You guys look like you
should be representing the letter 't' on Sesame Street."
They traded a look that said they'd had the same discussion.
"Who are you?" Rudy demanded, rather haughtily, I thought. After all, he was not only
dressed like a letter of the alphabet, he looked like a young Mr. Magoo.
"C.I.A." I replied, sounding as crisp as a new 50 dollar bill. "And you two are flirting with
a long list of felonies that will put you behind bars until that kid of yours needs knee
replacements."
"We're just doing our job," said Amy Jo, flipping her strawberry blonde hair away from
her face with one hand while the other guarded her distended belly.
"Who are you working for?"
Rudy squinted his eyes tightly, until all you could see of them behind his coke bottle lenses
were glittery black pinpoints. "Who wants to know?"
I sighed. "The C. I. A." I said it slow so they wouldn't misunderstand. Our acronym can be
so confusing.
Amy Jo jabbed her right elbow into Rudy's left love handle. "She's the one with the gun.
Tell her what she wants to know!"
It was Rudy's turn to sigh. "We don't know. They hired us over the Internet, mailed us half
the cash and promised the other half after we nailed the vampire."
I lowered Grief until it pointed straight at Rudy's crotch. "You two wouldn't recognize the
Internet if a server fell on your heads. So give it to me straight this time, Rudy, before I
lose my temper and make sure Junior grows up an only child."
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