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“Body found in the woods in freaking Bulgaria, where it was believed he headed after escaping from a work program on his latest visit to their version of the State Pen.” Eve shook her head. “Work program for a guy with this kind of sheet. Bludgeoned, partially dismembered, and how about this, exsanguinated. Peabody, let’s get the full ME’s report on this. I’m betting among his other injuries, there were a couple of puncture wounds in his throat.”
“This vampire shit’s creepy.”
Eve glanced at Berenski. “It would be, if vampires existed. What happened to science?”
He jutted out what he called a chin. “You got science, you got the para side of it. I’d be sharpening stakes if I were you, Dallas.”
“Yeah, that’s on my list.”
“Really?” Peabody asked when they got back into the car.
“Really what?”
“The stake-sharpening detail.”
“Peabody, you’re making my eye twitch.”
“I know it’s out there, but you have to consider all the information. Blood from a corpse. Vampires are corpses, essentially. No trace of Vadim on the first vic, scientifically at this point in time.”
“Because he switched the fucking vials.”
“Okay, okay.” Peabody held up both hands, palms out. “But if you bought into the vampire lore, he could’ve sired this Pensky guy, then—”
“Then his body wouldn’t have been real available for the Bulgarian ME.”
Peabody considered. “There’s that. But do we know, for absolute sure, that it stayed available?”
Give up, Eve told herself. Logical debates can’t be made out of illogical theorems. “You be sure to check on that. While you do, I’ll just stick with the more pedestrian theory that Vadim hooked up with Pensky, killed the shit out of him, and stored the blood he drained out for later use. It’s smart, but it would’ve been a hell of a lot smarter to get blood from some unknown. We’re also going to see if we can pin Vadim’s whereabouts for the time of this Gregor’s murder. What do you bet he was in Bulgaria?”
“He’d’ve been in Bulgaria if he vamped him, too,” Peabody said under her breath. “Guy’s got devil eyes.”
“On the last part we heartily agree.” She pulled into the garage at Central. “And we’re going to give him a shot right between them. All data on Gregor Pensky’s autopsy, Vadim’s whereabouts at the time in question—and last night. Another DNA sample from that slippery son of a bitch.”
Mentally kicking herself one more time on that score, Eve slammed the door of her police-issue. “This one spit—and it’s going to be taken by a certified criminalist. Going to wrap him up before the day ends. He’s not going to bite anyone else.”
“Dallas?” Peabody scrambled inside the elevator. “Do you figure he’s fatally bitten someone before? Bulgaria’s a long way from Times Square. And there are places farther away. Places where bodies might never be found.” Even if, Peabody thought, they stayed buried.
“I don’t think he took a year off between Pensky and Kent.” Eve scowled at the elevator doors. “So yeah, I think there’ll be others.”
“So do I. And listen, whether or not you—I mean we—believe in vampires, who’s to say he doesn’t? I know how he played it at Bloodbath. Like it was a show, a con—but a legal one this time. Maybe it isn’t.”
“Mira’s initial profile allowed for him deluding himself into believing himself immortal, but his sheet screams con. We get him in the box,” Eve decided, “we’ll see how he plays it.”
“I’m thinking if he does believe it, he’s feeling pretty full of himself right now. Sucking out two vics in two nights.”
“As of now, he’s going on a no-hemoglobin diet.”
Inside Central, Eve turned toward the Homicide bullpen. Stopped. Swags of garlic hung from the door frame like some odd holiday decoration. She caught the snickers from up and down the corridor, decided to ignore them, just as she ignored the surreptitious glances shot her way when she walked inside.
She arrowed in on Baxter, strolled to his desk. “How much did it run you?”
“It’s fake.” He grinned at her. “I’d have sprung for real, even though it’s steep, but it’s hard to come by enough to make a real impact so we got the fake stuff, too. You gotta admit, it’s funny.”
“Yeah, inside I’m cracking up. I’m going back down to reinterview Count Dracula. Get your boy, you’re backup.”
“Underground.” His grin vanished into a look of pure disgust. “I just bought these shoes.”
“Now I’m crying on the inside.” She pushed him aside with a satisfied grin, and commandeered Baxter’s computer.
