The sun has yet to set. There is a steady pounding on the front door, followed by the piercingly loud ring of the doorbell. I know it isn’t night, because I’m having a hard time opening my eyes, even a crack.
“Police, open up!”
This is not good. Wake up, Millicent, and think for God’s sake. If I open the door, the sunlight will sear my skin, like chicken on a barbeque. Not something these people have ever seen before, I’m sure. Only one thing comes to mind, and I’m not positive it will work. I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it.
Dragging ass out of bed, I dig out a very unsexy, white fleece robe. My limbs feel like lead weights, as I do my level best to push my arms through the sleeves. My body is not cooperating. Every cell inside me screams to get back into the safety of my bed. More pounding.
I reach my bedroom door. “I’m coming!”
Not very demure, but it’s better than having the door broken in. Since my legs aren’t working too well, I slide with locked knees down several steps, almost toppling over in the process.
At the bottom, I robot-walk across the front hall. I stop just long enough to take a deep breath. Gripping the door handle with my left hand, I soundlessly slide back the dead bolt, praying the people outside won’t take it upon themselves to try the door, until I am safely removed. I run, awkwardly, into the living room, launching myself onto the sofa, pulling the robe around me.
“Come in!” I yell, hoping they can hear me from outside.
I realize what a stupid idea it is, but what else is a vampire girl supposed to do in the middle of the day?
“Hello?” A woman’s voice calls out.
“Yes, hello! Please come in, I’m sick and can’t get up!”
Please just open the door and enter. In painfully slow motion, I hear someone place their hand tentatively on the handle of the door, then turn the knob. I’m wondering if they are expecting an explosion or an ambush. Probably can’t be too careful. Something much more dangerous lurks inside, but they don’t need to know that.
After what seems like hours, but is only a few seconds, the knob is fully turned, and the door is carefully pushed open. I’m doing my best to will my eyes to remain open. If I fall back into a deep sleep, only bad will follow.
“Hello, Savannah PD,” says the female voice, again.
“I’m in the living room. I’m sorry, but I’m too sick to get up.”
A rather attractive woman in her forties sticks her head into the front hallway, her brown hair brushing her shoulder. I wave from the couch. The woman, wearing a dark suit, takes a look around before walking into the hall. She is quickly joined by a short man, wearing an almost identical suit, and a male officer in uniform. They stand looking at me, for a few uncomfortable seconds. I cough, trying to make my voice sound strained.
“Please come in, I apologize for not being able to answer the door.”
The woman in the suit is clearly the person in charge. The short man keeps looking toward her, as if waiting for her cue.
She smiles. “Are you Millicent Mirabeau?”
“That’s me.”
The woman moves toward me with the other two following close behind. “And is Annie Monroe here, too?” She stands straight as an arrow, hands in her pockets.
“No, I’m not sure where Annie is. She travels quite a lot and comes and goes.”
“I see. I’m Detective Addison. This is Detective Wyatt and Officer Thatcher. We would like to ask you a few questions about Kathryn Hart.”
Of course, they do. I could kill Alexandre for getting us into this mess.
“I’ll answer any questions you have, even though, I only met Kathryn the one time.” I sit up, purposely slouching, arms crossed in front of my chest.
“Yes, that’s what your cousin said. However, we have to be thorough.”
“I understand, ask away.”
I have no idea what Alexandre told these people. Therefore, I have no clue how to respond to their questions. I’m guessing the vague truth is the best way to go. Hopefully, it won’t get us in trouble. I’m not ready to leave Savannah.
“Let’s get right to it, then. Did you notice anything unusual about Ms. Hart the night of your cocktail party?” The two detectives sit opposite me, with the officer looming in the background.
“I wouldn’t know what her usual was, so I don’t know. She was pleasant and chatty. Nothing about her demeanor seemed odd to me.” I don’t add that, other than our brief conversation after the party, I barely noticed her that night.
“What was her behavior with your cousin and the director, James Montgomery, like?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I answer, knowing exactly what she means.
“How was she interacting with them? Was she warm? Cold?”
“Uh, I couldn’t say. We were all talking and interacting as a group. I didn’t notice Kathryn single anyone out. Are you asking if she was flirting?”
“Your word, not mine. Was she?”
“Not particularly. Like I said, we were all conversing together. I didn’t notice anything outside the normal realm of social conversation.”
Detective Wyatt is taking a copious number of notes. I feel this must be some sort of tactic, as I haven’t said anything of value. Grocery list maybe?
Detective Addison nods her head and regards me with warm, brown eyes. “Interesting.”
Nothing I have said is the least bit interesting, unhelpful would be a better word. I wonder if she’s using a detective, mind-trick on me.
“Is there anything else you can think of we should know about the night of the party?”
“Truly detective, not a single thing. It was pretty lame, as far as parties go.”
She continues to nod, then asks, “Where was your cousin the night of Ms. Hart’s death?”
I tell the same lie I told Jack, only I make it more forceful, so there can be no mistaken interpretation. “He was here, all night.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes, we all turned in early that evening,” I answer, without so much as a blink of my eyes.
“What do you know of James Montgomery?”
“Absolutely nothing,” I say, getting tired of questions I clearly don’t have answers for.
“What was his demeanor at your party?”
“Quiet, but not strange. I imagine as a director, he’s used to letting his stars shine, while he hangs out in the background.”
Still more nodding. She was starting to make me dizzy.
“Well, Ms. Mirabeau, I don’t have any more questions for you, at the moment. I thank you for taking the time to talk with us, today.”
“Anytime, detective. I won’t shake your hand, as you don’t want what I’ve got.”
“I appreciate that.” She reaches into her breast pocket, and pulls out a card, “If you have any questions, or can think of something else, please call me.”
She places the card on the table, as she and her partner stand to leave, “Thanks, again. We’ll see ourselves out.”
After their departure, I haul myself to the door, latch it, and then crawl up the stairs. I cross the threshold to my room on hands and knees but am unable to make it to my bed. It’s lights out as soon as my heavy, trembling body makes it through the doorway.
I wake with a start to the sensation of floating through air.
“Relax, it’s just me.”
Alexandre has scooped me off the floor and is in the process of carrying me to my bed.
“The floor is an odd place to sleep, Mills. What’s that about?”
“Oh, it’s not about anything really. Just had the cops show up here in the middle of the day, and I was forced to let them in.”
“How did that work out?” Alexandre asks with a chuckle.
“Not well, obviously. Where have you been and what the hell have you been up to?”
For that line of questioning, Alexandre unceremoniously drops me on the bed. “You know, Mills. A little bit of this and that.”
“That’s not a good enough explanation, Alexandre.”
He shrugs his shoulders, not bothering to say anything else. Clearly the conversation is over for him, but I can’t let him off quite so easy.
“Fine, we at least need to talk about the police situation. What did you tell them? I want to make sure our stories line up,” I reason.
“Mills, you are too consumed by these mortals and their pitiful existences. Who cares if our stories match? We could kill them all in an instant, and they would never be able to so much as touch us.”
“Not funny, you would never be able to slaughter all those innocent people.”
He stands there looking at me, not saying a word.
“Right?” I press.
“Right, Mills,” he says, with a smirk.
“Stop it. Can you be serious for once? I guess at the very least, if something comes up, we could pack a bag and disappear.”
“Now you’re getting it. We can do whatever we want. Don’t worry about these mortals and their insignificant dramas.”
“Ok. You’re right,” I admit, dearly hating to do so.
“I always am.”
Just as I’m about to make a smart aleck remark, I hear someone open the front door. Alexandre hears it at the same time.
“That isn’t Annie,” he says, taking off toward the stairs.
Why can’t he lock the door like a normal person? This isn’t 1780. I think it must be the police again, or possibly Jack. That thought alone, compels me down the stairs. I promptly see, I’m wrong on both counts. It’s James, and if it’s at all possible, he looks even worse than the last time I saw him. The crazy look in his eye has been replaced by something raw and desperate. Alexandre is holding up his hands, telling the wild director to calm down.
“Calm down? I am calm, and I know, I know what happened.”
This small, disheveled man is looking dead at Alexandre without so much as a sliver of fear.
“If you’re thinking I had something to do with Kathryn’s tragic death, you are deeply mistaken. I could never hurt a woman in any way, let alone in the way Kathryn died.”
I knew Alexandre was being truthful. We had been constant companions for a long time. I had only ever seen him kill the evil, the wicked. Yes, there had been an exception or two, over the years. When a vampire is starved and the food source is limited, we do what we have to do in order to survive. But, the general rule is followed, by all of us.
James reaches behind him into the waistband of his pants and pulls out a gun, aiming it squarely at Alexandre. I can see right away, from the look in Alexandre’s eye, that this is about to go very badly for James. All we need is two dead Hollywood people. I hold up both hands in front of me, staying where I am.
“Millicent, you are free to go. Please leave now,” James says, without taking his eyes off Alexandre.
“I can’t do that, James,” I try to keep my voice as soft, as possible. “I can vouch for Alexandre. He would never murder anyone. I have known him all my life. Please, we have already faced one tragedy, let’s not add to it. If you do this, you’d be no better than the person who killed Kathryn. Your life would be over, too. This isn’t who you are.”
“My life is already over. It ended the night Kathryn died,” his voice breaks, as tears spill down his cheeks.
“If anyone understands what you’re feeling, it’s me,” I say.
“Oh, really? How is that?” asks James, as he wipes his eyes with his free hand.
“I lost the love of my life several years ago. I’ve never been the same, I can’t lie to you about that. But, I have learned to go on. You will, too. It will take time, but you will. One day, you will even wake up feeling a measure of happiness again,” I pause, letting my words sink in. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but your grief will lift. I promise.”
James’ hand is no longer steady but shaking. Deep sobs wrack his body. He drops to his knees, the gun skittering across the hardwood floor. Alexandre grabs the gun as I grab James. Alexandre leaves us on the floor, going back upstairs. Sitting there, on the hard, uncomfortable floor of the hall, we talk quietly for some time.
After James leaves, I lock the door and walk sadly up the stairs. I find Alexandre, sitting on the window seat in his darkly painted room. I lean back against the doorframe.
“You believe I didn’t kill her. Right, Mills?”
“Of course, I believe you. You may irritate me more than anyone else but give me some credit.”
“Things have been so peculiar, lately. I feel as if you are drifting farther and farther away from me.” His voice is unusually sad.
“I’m here, Alexandre. Maybe, stop trying to push me away with your insane behavior, for a start.”
“I hate these mortals. I want to leave. I want us to leave. I still expect you to do what I’ve asked. Tonight, changes nothing.”
“I don’t understand your insistence upon this,” I say, my annoyance with Alexandre, rising.
“I don’t wish to discuss it further. I will only say this one last thing. Thank you for the lies you told that idiot downstairs. You handled yourself well.”
“What lies? Everything I said was the truth.”
“You told him that you had learned to move on from your grief. We all know what a whopper of an untruth that is.”
Alexandre’s mood shifted drastically from his earlier playfulness. His eyes are sharp, his body rigid. Without another word, I turn around, go into my room and slam the door behind me. I check my phone for a message from Jack. Nothing. Maybe taking off with Alexandre isn’t such a bad idea, after all. A lot of good things have happened since I met Jack. A lot of bad things, too.
I need to decompress with a good feeding, followed by a steaming bath filled with lavender bubbles. I’m not going to stare at my phone like a lovesick teenager.