The Elvis Enigma

2. Elvis is in the Building

2

Elvis is in the Building

“For an Elvis impersonator, you don’t actually look much like Elvis.” Elvis and I were waiting to be booked, and I couldn’t resist mentioning the obvious.

A deep chuckle was the man’s response. “Funny thing that, because”—he leaned in close—“I’m the real deal. Or close enough.” Then he settled back in his seat.

The real deal? What did that mean? Was this guy claiming to be the real Elvis?

I scooted over in my chair to get a better look. No. No way. Crazy. Because… Elvis was dead.

Yeah, the irony of that hit me about half a second later, given my own less-than-fully-alive state. Dead, undead, living but not aging. I struggled with the question of my own “aliveness”—at least I did when I cared to think about it. I’d been a little busy since I’d become a vamp.

I lifted my cuffed hands. “My first time. You?”

“Oh, no. It’s part of the gig. Drugs, alcohol, disturbing the peace.” He sat in his chair looking nothing like an alcoholic, drug-abusing, peace-disturbing Elvis. And I didn’t even know if the original had done all those things. I wasn’t exactly an expert.

The man was fit and had an even tan; he practically glowed with sobriety and health. I’d be much more likely to believe he’d stepped off a tennis court than recently been breaking the law. Well, except that his white, sparkly seventies suit wouldn’t work on the courts.

I felt it might be rude to point this out, so I asked, “What are you in for this time?”

“Unpaid traffic ticket.”

I choked on a laugh. But then he grinned, and I couldn’t stop myself; I just let it fly. When I’d gotten my chuckles under control, I said, “How did you let that happen?”

“It’s complicated. I had to leave town in a rush, and larger concerns kept me busy.” He spread his hands wide. “I forgot.”

As a recently turned vamp, I did indeed know how it was to have one’s priorities upended. “Wow. That really sucks. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged like it wasn’t a problem. Then he gave me a slow, lazy smile—and there was just a hint of Elvis. The smile broadened and that hint became so much more.

“Yeah.” I nodded in wonder. “Yeah, now I see it. That smile is one hundred percent Elvis. Wow. How do you do that?”

“You do you; I’ll do me.” He winked. “You should check out my show. The music’s not bad.” But he said it like he knew exactly how fabulous the music was.

A broad grin stretched across my face. “Sure thing.”

He gave me the name of a local venue just as Detective Ruiz was finishing whatever paperwork had tied him up.

“If you’re done socializing?” The detective hadn’t relaxed an inch since he’d put the cuffs on me, and that had the unexpected result of making me much more comfortable.

Detective Ruiz’s dress was blown up over something, and while I had no idea what that could be, it meant that whatever he had against me was far from a sure thing. The confidence just wasn’t there.

Waving a final farewell to Elvis—either the real deal or close enough—I stood up, not anywhere near ready to find out how much trouble I was in.

I walked in front of the detective with his hand on my upper arm, guiding me forward. “Where are we headed?”

“To an interview room.” Not really chitchatty, the detective.

Once he’d situated me in the interview room, he left. That was when I remembered. I had an attorney—whoever that was—so they couldn’t question me until that mysterious person arrived.

Another thirty minutes passed. I just sat in the room, by myself, and twiddled my thumbs.

Until Cornelius walked in. Formerly COO of the Society, Cornelius was acting CEO. (The previous CEO had been murdered and buried in a client’s herb garden for a little while.) Cornelius was, for all intents and purposes, the mayor of the enhanced community in Austin.

I was surprised by how happy I was to see the old guy, especially since he could be a tricky dude to deal with. “Hey, Cornelius…”

A petite blonde woman followed him into the interview room. Star—heck, I didn’t even know her last name. Cute features, beautiful skin, and pale blonde hair, she hardly looked the part of a witch—though she was the only one I’d met.

“You’re my attorney?” I asked her. Because the last time I’d talked to her—only days before—she’d been a mortician.

She held up a finger then turned and briskly walked the perimeter of the room. No nonsense, just like the last time we’d met. If I had to guess, I’d say she was doing the witchy version of sweeping for listening devices.

When she returned, she stopped a few feet from Cornelius and me and closed her eyes. She took one deep breath through her nose and then exhaled through her mouth. She opened her eyes and said, “Go. You’ve got fifteen minutes, maybe a little more.”

“The room has been sealed.” Cornelius motioned to a seat at the table. “We can speak freely.”

I sat down, my gaze flipping between Star and Cornelius. Star had picked up a chair, moved it to a corner, and was typing on her phone—clearly not my attorney.

Cornelius seated himself opposite me. Oh my. “You’re my attorney? Is that even legal? Don’t you have to be licensed to represent me?”

His lips twitched. “I am licensed. I even went to law school in Texas.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Uh-huh. When?”

“The mid-1800s.”

I covered my face with my hands then spread my fingers and peeked at Cornelius. “I’m going to prison.”

Apparently, this was all a big joke to him, because he had a distinctly twinkly look around his eyes. “You’re not going to prison. You won’t even make it to jail.” He winked at me. “I’ll even wager that you’ll walk out with me.”

Right. I could feel my heart racing in my chest. Whatever Alex said was normal for vamps, I could still hyperventilate and have panic attacks. “Is there anyone else? Maybe someone who has been licensed in this century?”

Cornelius just waved his hand dismissively. “I’m currently licensed. Listen—have you been booked?”

I bit my lip. Had I? “What exactly does that involve?”

“Fingerprints, pictures, official forms…”

“No, although they took my phone, made me empty my pockets, that type of thing.” I normally considered Cornelius a very competent person—in his world. But this was the world of cops and jail time, not magic and vampire viruses.

“I have an inside source with the police. They don’t have any solid evidence against you. Certainly nothing that the current DA would consider sufficient to bring to trial.”

“Oh. My. God.” I wanted to smack him. “Could you not have started with that?”

Underground sources I could totally buy into. Information acquired through bribery, coercion, magical persuasion—all things that, while troubling, I believed Cornelius had mastered long ago. Staying current with the law…that was another matter altogether.

“Why is Star here? I thought she was retired.” Midnight magical autopsies didn’t really say retired, and that was what she’d been doing when I met her, but “retired” was her official story.

She was still quietly tapping away on her phone in the corner, but when I said her name she looked up. “Semi-retired. And I’m here because I’m the only witch in the area who can seal a room without suspicious paraphernalia.”

I grinned. “Thank you.” Although I was sure she appreciated the wad of cash she was earning for her four kids’ college funds more than my thanks.

She raised her pale eyebrows. “Police stations and magic paraphernalia do not mix well. And you’re welcome.”

As for the trappings of the witch trade, I couldn’t even begin to guess what magic paraphernalia might be. Toad tongues and wombat poop? Or more along the lines of ritual daggers and blood? My lip curled at the thought of blood.

I opted against asking, because I wasn’t sure my stomach was up to the answer. But I did have other questions. For one, how long I’d be here, since I would rather not have my fangs descend if I went too long without food. Awkward.

I leveled Cornelius with a stare. “What exactly is the plan?”

“Simple enough. You keep your mouth completely shut and let me pry out of this Detective Ruiz what exactly it is that he’s trying to accomplish with your arrest.”

“He thinks I know something. And I do—I know who killed Liz. Or do you think they found forensics linking me to the house?”

“No. I’d know if they did.” Cornelius turned to the door; a second later there was a knock, and the door opened.

Cornelius was classified as an assassin, an enhanced being with great stealth, strength, and, I was pretty sure, laser-beam eyes. I added super-hearing to the list.

Detective Ruiz entered the room alone. At least he’d ditched his backup. I was hardly a threat. Although I did have a magical sword who came when called—so maybe I was little dangerous. The thought made me smile.

And then I met Detective Ruiz’s unamused gaze. I wiped the smile off my face.

“I have neither the time nor the inclination to sit in this room for any significant length of time.” Cornelius’s British accent leaked more than usual as he bit out the words. “We are both aware that my client did not murder Elizabeth Smith. That they were merely coworkers.”

Cornelius motioned for Star to join us.

Detective Ruiz waited for her to sit down, then said, “Your client knew Liz was dead before the police had processed the scene. She interviewed a coworker, asking specific questions that made it clear she was aware of Elizabeth’s death long before the information was publicly available. She knows something—maybe the identity of the murderer.”

“So you arrested my client without cause.”

“I had a warrant.” Detective Ruiz was looking remarkably unflustered. If I had to guess, I’d say the guy thrived on conflict, because he looked a lot more at ease dealing with a contentious Cornelius than he had with me earlier. Eventually, he added, “But she’s free to go at any time. And I apologize for any inconvenience.”

I was about to stand up and exit the station with near-vamp speed—because free!—when Cornelius put his hand on my forearm.

I gritted my teeth, then settled back into my seat. And, remembering his instructions, didn’t say a word.

“Tell us what you want, so that Ms. Andrews isn’t required to suffer the indignity of a second, equally unsubstantiated arrest.”

I noticed he didn’t say illegal. So there must have been some evidence presented to the judge issuing the warrant.

“I think she knows who killed her friend Liz. And Amelia Baker. And Violet Smith, Maria Sanchez, Gloria Steck, and six other women.”

Uh-oh. I recognized those names as my progenitor’s other victims. Deaths that should have looked like an allergic reaction, not murder. I glanced at Cornelius, but his expression of professional uber-calm hadn’t flickered.

“I’m not certain what information you think Ms. Andrews has, but I’m sure you’re mistaken.” Cornelius turned to me and asked, “Do you have information relevant to the detective’s investigation?”

I shook my head—and didn’t open my mouth. I was downright proud of myself.

Detective Ruiz pointed a finger at me. “Your client has a terrible poker face. She recognized the names.”

And that little bit of pride I’d felt for my silence deflated with what sounded suspiciously in my mind like a fart and then fluttered away.

Turning to me, Detective Ruiz said, “You need to tell me what you know about those women’s deaths. No way eleven women of similar age and profession all located within a small geographic region and possessing no known allergies all die of anaphylactic shock.”

Oh, how right he was. But I still didn’t say anything.

My silence frustrated him far more than his interaction with Cornelius. Or maybe he was just mad that he’d overshared. Now we knew why he was chasing the cases.

“We’re done.” Cornelius stood up. “I’ll have a look at the supposed evidence you provided for the warrant. And if there’s anything out of order, you can expect a complaint to be filed. If you contact my client again, expect a complaint to be filed. If you even hint that she’s committed an unlawful act without the appropriate evidence to support your claims, a complaint will be filed.”

I felt a little bad for Detective Ruiz. The guy was only doing what I’d been trying to do a few weeks ago: get justice for the women my progenitor had harmed. That he’d even discovered that the deaths weren’t natural was amazing and worthy of some respect.

The detective didn’t look concerned by Cornelius’s threats. He looked angry. Then again, he was pretty sure I knew the identity of a murderer who’d killed at least eleven women and was keeping mum. That would make me angry, too.

I stood up and followed Cornelius and Star out of the interview room. Once we’d cleared the doorway, I asked, “Can I speak now?”

“No.” Cornelius didn’t say anything else to me until we’d retrieved my personal effects and exited the station. “Alex is waiting around the corner for you.”

That wasn’t good, not at all. He’d been possessed by a demon only hours ago. “He should be getting some rest.”

“We would all rather be doing other things.” Cornelius gave me that look, the one where I felt like a scolded schoolgirl.

The man was annoying. It wasn’t my fault that I’d been snatched up by the police, so how he managed to make me feel bad about it… I really was tempted to blow a raspberry at the man. I refrained.

With a hard look, Cornelius said, “Do not speak to Detective Ruiz. The man has latched on to the case with an obsessive passion that will undoubtedly cause us some difficulty, and I don’t need you making it worse.”

I shrugged and widened my eyes innocently. “Who, me?”

A tiny glint of silver peeked out from his eyes.

I narrowed my eyes. “That won’t work. Alex told me you do that on purpose.”

“Usually. I usually do it on purpose. You, Ms. Andrews, bring out the worst in me.”

There wasn’t really an appropriate response to that, so I gave him a little wave and hotfooted it around the corner. Then I remembered Star. I turned back and called out, “Thank you.”

And I’d swear she winked at me.

I might develop a liking for that woman. She was pretty cool, even if she did deal with creepy dead bodies all day long.

“Mallory,” Alex called out from my right.

I looked around and spotted him parked at the curb in his Nissan Juke.

I waved and headed across the street. Once I’d hopped in the car, I said, “Thanks for picking me up, although you should have gone home and gotten some sleep.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And leave you to the mercies of the mundane policing force? Are you sure about that?”

That was an unpleasant thought, since I was already getting hungry.

Without a word, Alex handed me a spicy veggie juice. The man was always prepared. I did adore that about him.

I drank about half the small bottle in one long pull. “Thank you. Hey, you won’t believe who I met. How do you feel about going with me to see an Elvis impersonator?”