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"I heard that. Shame you didn't also forget you worked for the Directorate. It's been so peaceful around here without you."
I grinned. "So you were bored shitless, huh?"
"Totally. So do try not to get kidnapped again." She glanced at Quinn, and her expression became more formal - which surprised the hell out of me. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, thank you," he said, the barest hint of amusement in his voice.
I glanced at him as she rose and walked across to the coffee machine - which was sparkly new, and had obviously been installed during the time I'd been missing.
I'm an old one, he said, the amusement that had been barely evident in his words bubbling through his mental tones. Sal's merely showing the respect we old ones are due.
I gave a mental snort and he added, with another burst of amusement, Of course, it also helps that she's been asked to become an official member of the Melbourne vampire council and I happen to be one of those who have the deciding vote.
But Sal hates the council. She said that months ago.
Things change. In this case, I believe the change of heart goes by the name of Norman.
Norman? What a staid old name. I hope he's not.
Oh, trust me, Norman's not staid.
Well, good, because she deserves better.
Careful. That almost sounds like you care.
She's bringing me coffee. Of course I care. I glanced around as said coffee was plunked in front of me and I gave her another grin. "Should I inspect it for arsenic?"
"In deference to you being returned to the fold, I left it out. But don't drink tomorrow's coffee." Her tone was amused as she handed Quinn his coffee then headed back to her computer.
I took a sip, then asked, "Why are you fiddling with the computers in here?"
"It's quieter. Jack doesn't want anything distracting me once the operation starts."
A comment that would no doubt be explained once Jack got here. As if on cue, he and Rhoan walked in, both of them looking tired and more than a little rough around the edges. Both carried large cups of coffee, although given the bags under my brother's eyes, it was going to take more than a bucket of the brown stuff to keep him awake and alert.
"Got the systems hooked up yet, Sal?" Jack asked.
"Finalizing it now," she said briskly. "Just a few minutes more."
Jack grunted and slapped several folders on the desk as he sat down opposite us. Rhoan just perched on the table's edge, his posture reflecting his tiredness. Obviously, he couldn't be bothered walking any farther.
"Remember me saying that I thought the name Daskill sounded familiar?"
I nodded, and he pushed a folder forward. Quinn stopped its slide across the desk and opened it. I'd been expecting a rundown of whoever Daskill was, but what we got instead were photographs. Vivid, bloody photographs of the remains of what I presumed were a woman and child. They'd been so torn apart it was hard to tell. Only the remnants of their nightdresses gave their sex away.
"Bobby Daskill's wife and child were murdered in their beds while he was on a business trip. The main suspect was Bobby's business partner, Henry Kattram, who had apparently been having an affair with Bobby's wife for over a year. She refused to leave Bobby and apparently broke it off. Those pictures are the result."
"Then why is Kattram still listed as a suspect?" Quinn asked. "Why was he never charged if the police are so certain he was their murderer?"
"Because Henry Kattram was found dismembered in his bed twenty-four hours later." Jack indicated the photos.
"In a manner eerily similar to the way Jenny and Evie Daskill were killed."
"Daskill obviously was the main suspect, so why was he never charged?" I asked.
"Because he was one hundred miles away with friends at his country retreat. One of those friends was a high court judge."
"Convenient," Quinn murmured. "But from what I've heard about Kattram, he'd be the sort to have closed circuit TV both inside and outside. What did that reveal?"
