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"Well, that probably would put a dampener on things," he said, his voice wry.
"Totally."
I finished the last of the lasagna and picked up my coffee with a sigh. "I'm so glad you came to live with us."
He grinned. "I think you two are getting the better end of the deal. Do you know how badly you both cook?"
"Absolutely. That's why you and Rhoan are never going to be able to set up house alone. I'd starve on my own." I rose as my cell phone rang, and walked across to grab it out of my purse. "Hello?"
"Riley? Jack," he said, unnecessarily. "We've got another vampire dead. One Garrison Bovel."
I swore softly. "Not someone else you know, I hope?"
"Not personally, no, though I've seen him around the various bars a few times." He sounded bone-tired. "He was the head of an accounting firm that handled the taxes for many of the dead. It could mean trouble if they got into his records."
"Has his office been raided?"
"Not as far as we know, but we've contacted his partners and told them to check."
"Why would anyone want to rob an accountant?"
"Because he's been a record keeper for three hundred years, and has amassed quite a fortune."
God, he had to have loved his job to have done it for that damn long.
"I'll send you the address," Jack continued. "Mel and her team are already there."
"Has Cole's report for Armel's murder come through yet?"
"He's still working on it, but he believes there were magical influences."
I raised my eyebrows. "In the robbery or the murder?"
"Hard to say. Head over to Bovel's straight away. We need to nip this in the bud quick, before the vamp community gets antsy."
And that wouldn't be good for anyone. "Will do."
"Trouble?" Liander asked as I hung up.
"Another dead vamp. Tell Rhoan I probably won't be home for dinner."
"Will do."
I grabbed my bag and headed back out. The address had come through on the car's onboard computer and I drove over to Brighton in record time. The beachside suburb was the local "it" spot for all those who were more than mere millionaires and, because of this, had its fair share of older vamps. After all, any vamp over a certain age had time enough to amass more money than most humans.
Which didn't mean they were good targets. Most vamps protected their fortunes fiercely, and the wise robber went elsewhere. Especially if he didn't love the thought of becoming a vampire's next meal.
I pulled into the victim's driveway. The house was another of those modern ones that always looked like a big white concrete box-and it still surprised me that vampires chose to live in these places. I would have thought something dark and gothic would be more their style. But then, vampires these days were all about breaking expectations.
A dark van with Directorate plates sat in the tree-lined parking lot and the front door was open, A stick-like figure hovered near the door, dusting for prints. It had to be Janny. Mel's other team member-Marshall-was a portly soul.
I grabbed my ID as I walked up the grandly arched steps and showed it to the mobile recording unit that had been set up in the doorway to record all movement in and out of the house. There'd be others inside.
"Afternoon, Riley," Janny said without looking up. Her voice was surprisingly mellow and rich, though I don't know why I always expected it to be otherwise. Something to do with her insectlike looks, I think.
I stopped and studied the doorknob she was dusting. No obvious prints. "How bad is it, Janny?"
She shrugged. "I've seen worse."
