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"Just now. You're safe. Something important happened, or I would have let you sleep longer. Chase is upstairs. HQ has assigned us a case."
She stretched and slipped out from under the covers. Where I was curvy and buxom, she was willow-thin and petite, the top of her head barely coming up to my nose. Delilah had us both beat, topping out at an inch over six feet, a good six inches taller than me, and athletic to boot. The girl would put Sarah Conner to shame. I just hoped that Jocko's death didn't foretell a meeting with our very own Terminator.
Menolly slipped into her jeans and a hunter green turtle-neck. No shifting the jeans to fit her butt, no adjusting her boobs in her bra. In fact, she didn't have to wear a bra. No, she was like a beautiful porcelain mannequin, who would never fade, never gain weight, never have to face the world of underwire.
"What happened?" she asked, shaking her braids into submission. The beads clicked, and she grinned at the noise. She had confided in me that it made her feel alive again. Vamps moved in silence, and it drove her nuts.
I sat cross-legged on the bed, playing with the edge of the quilt. "Jocko's been murdered. HQ has pawned the case off on us. They say it's random, but I smell demon behind it. You're not going to the bar tonight—I called in for you this afternoon."
"Murdered? A demon killed Jocko?" Although her expression remained frozen, I heard the catch in her voice. She and Jocko had become good friends over the past few months, as good as a vampire and a giant could be. Both felt their handicaps keenly—Menolly hadn't asked to be a vampire, and Jocko had been born stunted.
I nodded. "I'm sorry." Leaning over, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, and she stared at her hands. I could tell she was fighting off the tears—vampires' tears were red as the blood they drank, and she hated the stains that they caused.
"How? And who the hell would kill him? Jocko never hurt anybody who didn't ask for it." She let out a long sigh. "This just sucks."
I kissed her forehead. "I know it does. Somebody garroted him, a really bad scene. Chase will fill you in. He went to talk to HQ again after I smelled the scent of demon on the murder weapon. He said he managed to get a call through to them, though who knows what good it will do." I put my arm around her shoulders. "And on another subject, I have a surprise for you. I'm going to take you somewhere tonight, but I don't want you to ask why. Promise you'll go?"
"You aren't taking me to another strip bar, are you?" She glared at me. "After that last fiasco, I hope you learned that combining lots of bare skin and a hungry vamp is a recipe for disaster."
Not all of our attempts to understand Earthside culture had turned out to be good ideas. After I had managed to drag Menolly out of the bar and shake her out of her glazed state, I decided that the last thing she needed was to look at naked bodies. Which meant no Chippendale shows, strip clubs, saunas, locker rooms, or anything else of that ilk.
"Trust me, we're not going through that again. No, it's something quite different. Promise you'll go?"
She sighed as I led her toward the stairs. "Oh, all right. I promise. But it had better be as entertaining as the shows I get at work."
Chase and Delilah were waiting at the kitchen table. Chase had a bottle of beer in front of him, Delilah a glass of milk. Both looked so relieved when we appeared that I snorted. "Not much to talk about, huh?"
Delilah whistled and stared at the ceiling. Chase stared at his drink.
"Let's get this show on the road, then." I slid into my place, shivering as the warmth from the oak resonated through my body.
Chase was staring at Menolly, and for once, lechery wasn't even in the equation, a good thing for him. He was right to respect her. She could make quick work of him with a single bite.
I poured myself a glass of wine. Menolly didn't drink when we had company. Even though blood looked a lot like tomato juice and we kept some spare in the refrigerator, it could get a little awkward. And the smell had a tendency to put off people who weren't used to it.
"Okay, here's the scoop." Chase cleared his throat and pulled out a notebook. "Camille already knows some of this, but I'll start from the beginning to catch everybody up. This morning at five thirty, a wino—an informant—in the alley behind the Wayfarer stumbled over Jocko's body. He called me, and I arrived not more than ten minutes later. Jocko had been garroted. Whoever killed him had to be a strong motherfucker because Jocko's big, and it was obvious that he put up a fight. But the medical examiner agrees with me that he was probably killed inside the bar and then dumped out back. There was a trail of tipped-over chairs, and the back door was standing open."
Delilah winced. "Poor Jocko. What else did the medical examiner say?"
Chase consulted one of his notes. "Not much. They found traces of nonhuman energy signatures on him. Once Camille told me she smelled demon on the rope, I went back and asked them to check it out. Unfortunately, the OIA agent who did the autopsy doesn't recognize demon scent, and so we're waiting for a specialist to verify it."
"That somebody is big enough and strong enough to strangle a giant is a sobering thought." Menolly raised one eyebrow and nodded toward Delilah. I glanced at our blonde goddess of a sister.
The subtle signs of stress were playing out across her face. She was taking Jocko's death harder than I'd thought. Or maybe she was just tired—the full moon was coming up in a few days and she always got PMS—pre-moon-syndrome—before it hit. I tapped her on the arm.
"Drink your milk, honey. It will relax you."
She picked up her glass and lapped at it gently before taking a full sip.
Menolly propped her elbows on the table as she stared at Chase. "So, no idea of who or what killed him beyond demon scent?"
He shook his head. "No, but as I said, I got through to HQ once I talked to Camille. They're keeping close-mouthed on it, but they did ask if you'd overlooked reporting anything suspicious happening at the bar?"
Menolly sucked in a deep breath—more for show than any need of air—and pushed back her chair. "Just what are you hinting at, Johnson? That I screwed up or that I'm a traitor?"
Oops. I could see the impending signs of a blowup. The last thing we needed was a fracas between Menolly and Chase. I cleared my throat. "I don't think he was implying anything. HQ was the one who asked." I shot Chase a quick look that said, Think first; speak later.
He blinked, realizing how close he was to becoming dinner. "No, no! I wasn't implying anything of the sort," he said. "No offense meant."
