Chapter 31: Straight Talk

The sun was just above the eastern horizon when Mickey Nevers returned to Tony’s stash house. When the building was not being used to hold and hide cocaine, it was in the middle of renovations by its owner, Jeremiah. Mickey backed the unmarked six-wheel delivery van flush against the loading dock door at the side of the building. When the delivery van’s rear door opened, fifteen local drug dealers got up from their seats in the back of the truck and walked into the storage room of the building. Inside the storage room were two dozen foldout chairs and two foldout tables. When everyone was inside the room, Malcolm closed the docking bay door.

“Please, gentlemen, help yourselves to some refreshments,” Tony politely proffered while standing in the center of the room.

An array of alcoholic beverages and cups were situated on the foldout table positioned against the wall that separated the storage room from the main room at the front of the building. A few of the drug dealers went to the table and poured themselves drinks. Most did not.

“Okay, gentlemen, can we proceed?” Tony requested when he had the attentions of all the dealers in the room.

The fifteen men were cocaine dealers who operated in different sectors of the city and maintained large clienteles. In the past, they pushed Tommie Grasso’s cocaine. They were all here to negotiate the terms of doing the same for Tony. At Tony’s urging they clustered together in front of him.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard about the unfortunate mishap that befell Grasso,” Tony began in a pleasant tone of voice. “And I can imagine that his absence has produced some concern among all of you.”

Tony paused to give greater significance to what he was about to say.

“You’re all big-league dealers who were pushing Grasso’s product. So, I can’t help but imagine that you’re concerned about the state of your business now that Grasso is gone,” Tony said in a straightforward delivery. “I am here to assure you that there will be no disruption in your business,” he continued with a smile. “From now on, I will be your supplier.”

Tony paused again and panned the faces of the fifteen men in front of him. He then turned his attention toward the table behind him and the array of seven duffel bags. Malcolm began unzipping each duffel when Tony looked his way. When he was finished unzipping all the bags and exposing the hundreds of packets of cocaine inside them, Tony turned his attention back toward the fifteen drug dealers in front of him.

“You have the clientele—I have the supply,” Tony announced politely. “I think we’re in a position to help each other. Don’t you?”

A moment of silence followed behind Tony’s question. Each drug dealer was hesitant to be the first to speak.

“With all due respect, Mr. McGuire,” Alex Bailey began politely. “Grasso provided more than a steady supply. He provided cover from legal—entanglements, and he protected our markets from competitors. Grasso’s—sudden departure—leaves a pretty big vacuum. It takes a lot of money to buy that kind of clout. From what I hear, that’s not you.”

Tony paused to consider his next words.

“That’s a fair point,” Tony pondered. “But take a look behind me,” he continued with a gesture toward the duffel bags of cocaine on the table. “That’s a big investment for me. I am all in on this,” he asserted with a stern pan of the room. “And I plan to fill Grasso’s shoes and more. This is just the beginning, gentlemen. There will be no stopping me. Your problems are my problems. I’m tapped into the local constabulary and my influence will be expanding, greatly. If you encounter a problem with someone moving into your market, bring it to me. I’ll take care of it. And as a gesture of respect for your concerns, for six months, I’m prepared to give all of you a 15% mark down on the deal you had with Grasso.”

Tony paused after making his discount offer. He waited and watched to see how the dealers would respond and react. For several seconds, there was no response. Each dealer silently considered Tony’s offer.

“Okay then,” Tony continued after a prolonged pause. “I’m sure you would all like to sample the merchandise, so please,” he encouraged with a gesture of his hand.

The fifteen drug dealers went up to the table and began removing random packets. Using their pinky fingers in most cases, they dabbed them into the packets and taste tested the contents under the watchful eyes of Charlie, Ben and Malcolm. Mickey Nevers stood off to the side and watched everything.

“All the packets are the same,” Tony advised as the men moved around the table. “It’s eighty percent pure.”

It took the dealers a little more than two minutes to complete their pinky tests, and then they moved back to the center of the room.

“Are we satisfied?” Tony questioned with a hint of a smile.

The group of dealers mumbled and nodded their satisfaction with the cocaine packets.

“Good, so let’s get down to it,” Tony continued with a smile.

Tony walked around the table with the cocaine on it. He sat down in the center chair and opened the ledger in front of him.

“I’m going to start you off with five-hundred packets,” Tony began with an upbeat tone. “If you can’t move that within a month, then I might have to reconsider our association,” he pleasantly added. “These two gentlemen,” Tony continued with a gesture to his left and right. “Their names are Charlie and Ben. They’ll be handling the drop-offs and pickups. When you’re talking to them, you’re talking to me. When you do business with them, you’re doing business with me,” Tony instructed with vehemence.

“Okay, who’s first?” Tony asked with a smile.

Over the next hour, Tony counted out cocaine packets and noted the data in his ledger for each dealer, one at a time. During these transactions, the dealers mingled with each other while consuming the liquid refreshments that were set out for them. When the business was done, the dealers left in the same manner as they had arrived. Care was given to keep them unaware of the building’s location. Shortly after their departure, Tony, Charlie, Ben and Malcolm went to the cots in the rooms on the mezzanine level. They had been awake for more than two days and two nights. Hunger told them they either needed to feed or sleep, and they were low on meat. But it was mostly the growing signs of moodiness in the team that convinced Tony they all needed to sleep.

Tony had not forgotten Razvan’s warning about staying awake for too long. He understood that while a vampire is sufficiently fed, he or she is incapable of becoming physically exhausted and will remain mentally alert. But he also knew that prolonged consciousness would degrade their sanity. He was told that irrational thinking was the result of exaggerated emotions and fears and that would grow worse over time. Tony had already experienced enough of his vampire kindred’s capacity for ill temper and mood swings to know that he did not want to see things get worse.

“We’re done for today,” Tony declared. “Sleep, we’ll relocate to the garage tonight.”

No thought was given to posting a guard during the daylight hours on a weekday in a building on a commercial thoroughfare. They thought themselves well-hidden and too well feared due to their newly established reputation for violence. It was inconceivable to Tony that anyone was looking for them now that Grasso was dead. His problem now was boredom. Inactivity was the foe that Tony and his crew battled during the daylight hours. The new vampires had quickly come to appreciate sleep as the most convenient way to pass through the daylight hours. Sleeping did not stop them from monitoring their surroundings, it only slowed the process. And because their brains were effectively operating in slow motion as they slept, time had the feel of speeding across their dimmed awareness. Unlike the Dacia Vampires, they did not have a history of being searched out by vampire hunters with dogs while they slept, or the phobia born out of that experience. For Tony and his brood of vampires, sleep was the ideal way to deal with the doldrums of the daylight hours, and at that moment, Tony thought of sleep as a priority and not a risk.

Just before he settled into his cot for the day, Tony dialed Jeremiah’s house phone. He was doubtful that anyone would answer. It was mid-morning, and he was expecting everyone inside the house to be asleep. That thinking was supported by the belief that any disturbance that was great enough to keep them awake would have produced a phone call to him. After the seventh ring, the answering machine picked up as Tony expected. Under the assumption that all was well within the house, Tony left a brief instructional message for Jeremiah, and then he settled into his cot to sleep through the day.

~~~~~Line Break~~~~~

When Cassidy arrived at the 13th Precinct Monday morning, she was already aware of the multiple murders that occurred in a Brooklyn carpet store Saturday night. The local news media reported on the discovery of eight bodies in the burnt out remains of the building. Reports of dozens of bullet casings being found among the bodies was also reported throughout the Sunday news cycle, and the identity of several of the victims was disclosed in the Monday morning news. The only thing that the Manhattan South Detectives heard beyond the news reports was that the killings were a definite hit by a criminal organization.

“So, this Tommie Grasso was into drugs?” Dt. Hale questioned as he separated from Dt. Russo and started walking toward his desk.

Detectives Hale and Russo came into the squad room side by side. They had been discussing the news of the carpet warehouse killings during their walk through the precinct.

“Cocaine,” Dt. Russo returned as he approached his desk. “Brooklyn North says he has family ties to organized crime.”

Detectives Greene, Washington and Cassidy were already in the squad room. They all noticed Dt. Hale and Russo’s conversation when they entered. That subject was of interest to all the officers in the precinct.

“Do they know who did it?” Dt. Vera Washington asked Dt. Russo.

“They heard a rumor about a new player, but they haven’t pinned down a name yet,” Dt. Russo responded as he settled into his desk chair.

Dt. Russo’s information on the carpet warehouse shooting came directly from the officers who were working the investigation. He had extensive ties with the Brooklyn Borough precincts going back to his time as a uniformed patrol officer and during his first five years as a detective. Sunday, he socialized with several Brooklyn Borough patrol officers, and they supplied him with unpublished information on the killings.

“So, is the firefight true?” Dt. Greene asked from his seat at his desk.

“Brooklyn North is one hundred percent on that,” Dt. Russo emphatically returned. “That was no execution. They were shooting in all directions in there.”

“Is the DEA moving in?” Dt. Greene asked with a look of intrigue toward Dt. Russo.

“Not so far,” Dt. Russo answered. “They think the killings was drug related, but they don’t have any drugs.”

“Hell, eight dead and fifty bullet casings, they weren’t arguing over carpets,” Dt. Greene sarcastically replied.

Detectives Hale, Russo and Washington chuckled in response to Dr. Greene’s remark. Cassidy was giving the conversation little attention. She heard what was being said, but most of her attention was focused on the daily activity reports.

“Well, it sounds like Brooklyn North has its hands full,” Dt. Hale surmised as he clicked through his email.

“Yeah, well the really weird part of their investigation is the bite marks,” Dt. Russo announced while he thumbed through his interoffice mail.

“What bite marks?” Cassidy suddenly looked up to query Dt. Russo.

Dt. Russo stopped what he was doing and looked at Cassidy in reaction to her question. The sharpness of her query alerted him more than the question. Dt. Vera Washington’s attention was also piqued by Cassidy’s level of interest more than the subject matter.

“The Brooklyn North detectives think there was some kind of animal inside the room during the gun battle,” Dt. Russo explained with indifference. “They found bite marks on several of the victims.”

“What kind of animal?” Cassidy eagerly challenged.

“They don’t know,” Dt. Russo answered.

Cassidy froze in place as she thought about Dt. Russo’s claim that several of the victims had animal bite marks. Her sudden stillness caught Vera’s attention, but Cassidy was too busy thinking to notice her. After several seconds of thought, Cassidy grabbed her cellphone, got up from her chair and set off for the squad room exit.

“Where are you going?” Vera casually asked in a soft voice as Cassidy started to pass by her desk.

“Mind your own business,” Cassidy sharply returned in a hushed voice without slowing down.

Vera was angered by the response, but she was reluctant to put it on display for everyone to see. She followed Cassidy’s departure out the corner of her eyes while plotting when and where she would give her response.

“Where’s David?”

Cassidy was standing on the sidewalk outside of the precinct when she posed that question to Nadja on her cellphone. The fact that she was speaking to Nadja through David’s (Cristiãn) cellphone surprised Cassidy.

“Cristiãn is asleep,” Nadja dryly returned. “What do you want?”

“Wake him,” Cassidy forcefully insisted.

“Why?” Nadja challenged.

“That’s between me and David, now wake him,” Cassidy demanded.

“Well, if it’s personal, then it’s not important enough to awaken him from his rest,” Nadja casually countered. “I’ll tell him you called.”

“Listen, bitch,” Cassidy spat into her cellphone with anger. “I’m in no mood to banter with you. This isn’t personal. It’s about the research project I’m doing on his behalf, and it’s—IMPORTANT,” she added with extreme emphasis on the last word.

“Tell me. I will pass it along,” Nadja insisted.

“I’m not talking to you,” Cassidy countered angrily. “Put David on the phone.”

“Listen, Detective,” Nadja began in a voice that was heavy with exasperation. “Cristiãn is resting. Getting him to the cellphone is going to take five to ten minutes. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Cassidy silently fumed with anger.

“We have a schedule,” Nadja continued with an emphatic tone. “And I’m not disrupting that schedule just because you don’t want to pass a message through me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Fine,” Cassidy returned after an angry huff. “There was…”

“Wait,” Nadja sharply interrupted. “Not over the phone.”

“What?” Cassidy exclaimed with shock in her voice.

“I am not having this conversation over the telephone,” Nadja asserted with finality.

Cassidy was speechless for several seconds. The fact that she was speaking with Nadja had her annoyed, but the thought of being forced to converse with her in person elevated Cassidy’s mood to infuriated.

“Fine,” Cassidy growled in frustration. “Del Crespo’s, ten o'clock—You think you can manage that?” She finished with accentuated sarcasm.

“I’ll do my best,” Nadja snidely returned.

~~~~~Line Break~~~~~

After Cassidy abruptly disconnected, Nadja turned her attention to dressing for her meeting. As the time approached for her departure, she went into the spare bedroom that she and Petru were occupying at David’s (Cristiãn) condominium. Petru was in the bed lying still on his back with his arms by his side. In appearance he looked to be dead. There was no sign that he was breathing. David was in the same posture in his bedroom. He and Petru were planning to sleep through the day while Nadja stood watch. This was a practice they began more than 2,000 years ago.

“I’m leaving to speak with Cassidy. She has a message that she wants me to pass along. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Nadja spoke those words to Petru and again to David (Cristiãn) knowing that even in sleep their brains would assimilate her words across a short span of time. She also knew that Petru and David (Cristiãn) would awaken from their sleep if they did not hear her moving around. Telling them where she was going and how long she would be there was Nadja’s way of telling them that there was no need for them to awaken and that she would soon be back to stand guard over them.

~~~~~Line Break~~~~~

“Running off for personal business again,” Vera carped.

Cassidy had just collected her jacket and bag and was just approaching the squad room exit when Vera intercepted her there. The time was 9:45am and Cassidy had just requested an early lunch break to take care of some personal business. Dt. Hale usually agreed to this common request from team members to adjust their work schedules for personal needs.

“You know, if you concentrated on being a detective a little more and me a lot less you might actually close a case,” Cassidy countered irritably.

The anger that welled up inside Vera was manifested in her cold stare. She moved in close to Cassidy so that there was no mistaking the level of her disdain. Cassidy held her stance and waited for the reply that she knew was coming.

“I was closing cases when you were running around the house in your daddy’s police cap,” Vera hissed in a soft voice and with a hard stare. “I’ve seen people like you come and go. You’re still running around in your daddy’s cap. That’s my experience telling me that you’re nothing more than a play cop. It’s show-boaters like you who get real police officers killed. But you would know all about that.”

Vera’s innuendo that it was some failure on Cassidy’s part that brought about the death of her late partner, Dt. Alan Mercer, aggravated an emotional wound in Cassidy. She had never stopped questioning her actions on the day that Alan was killed. It was her constant fear that she could have done something more or better. For a moment Cassidy’s resolve withered under the weight of that memory, but she quickly caught herself. The thought of giving Vera the satisfaction of seeing her teary eyed steeled her thoughts. With her feistiness reinforced, Cassidy leaned forward and began speaking softly with a hint of jest in her voice.

“I don’t think that’s experience. That sounds more like senility to me. Maybe you should consider retiring.”

A second after Cassidy said her reply, she walked out the squad room exit beneath Vera’s angry glare.

~~~~~Line Break~~~~~

Cassidy needed the extra fifteen minutes to make it to her meeting with Nadja on time. When she arrived inside Del Crespo’s restaurant, she found Nadja sitting at a table in the dimmest sector of the room. A pair of large dark sunglasses concealed her eyes, and a wide brim hat was lying on the chair next to her. A pre-lunch hour crowd sparsely occupied the restaurant. Cassidy promptly went over to the table where Nadja was sitting. As she took a seat in the opposite chair, Nadja removed her sunglasses. For several seconds Cassidy and Nadja stared at each other with expressions that indicated they were not friends. A waitress interrupted their staring contest and asked if they were ready to order. Cassidy declined the offer to order food at that moment. She accepted the menu and requested a Pellegrino to match the drink that was in front of Nadja. When the waitress went away, they went back to staring for several seconds more.

“So, detective, what is the message that you want me to pass along?” Nadja asked politely.

“There was a shooting incident Saturday night in a carpet outlet store,” Cassidy began calmly. “Brooklyn thinks it’s drug related.”

“Yeah, I heard about it on the news,” Nadja curtly asserted. “What about it?”

“Some of the victims had bite marks on their bodies,” Cassidy answered with finality.

Nadja froze and held Cassidy’s stare. She had no immediate response to that report, and Cassidy was not prepared to say anything until she heard one.

“Are you sure that several of the victims had bite marks?” Nadja questioned after a moment of thought.

Nadja’s question reflected her concern that bite marks on multiple bodies reinforced the idea that vampires were behind the killings. It also suggested that multiple vampires were involved.

“That’s what was reported to me,” Cassidy returned with a fixed stare.

“Okay,” Nadja softly responded with a knowing nod.

“Okay, what?” Cassidy questioned in a demanding tone.

“We’ll look into it,” Nadja asserted with a hint of annoyance.

“Look into it my ass,” Cassidy leaned over the table to whisper.

It was at that moment that the waitress returned with Cassidy’s Pellegrino. The waitress was made slightly uncomfortable by what she had just overheard, but she quickly smiled and pretended she heard nothing. After placing the drink on the table, the waitress asked if they were ready to order, and once again they declined. The waitress smiled and walked away.

“There are—vampires—roaming the streets,” Cassidy continued at a whisper and while leaning forward over the table. “You need to take care of this.”

“We will,” Nadja softly asserted, “when you find Jerry.”

Hearing the name Jerry thrown back at her once again infuriated Cassidy. It aggravated her that the task of finding these rogue vampires was always put upon her and hearing it coming from Nadja made it even worse.

“This is a problem of your making,” Cassidy declared with a point of her finger across the table. “You need to fix it.”

The volume of Cassidy’s remark was up just enough to catch the attention of some patrons and staff inside the restaurant. They all gave their table a quick glimpse and then returned to the conversations and work they were into.

“You don't understand how quickly this can spread,” Nadja asserted at a low grumble. “It is common for newborn immortals to turn relatives and friends,” she continued with a fixed stare.

Nadja hesitated to give emphasis to her next declarative.

“No one chooses to go through eternity alone.”

Cassidy paused to consider Nadja’s warning. She knew that Nadja was pressuring her to work harder and faster, and she appreciated the urgency of the situation. She considered a conciliatory response to Nadja’s warning, but her anger toward the person giving it refused to back down to allow for the slightest generosity.

“Then you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Cassidy gruffly countered. “Because this is the first and last warning that you're going to get from me.”

Once again Cassidy’s voice was elevated just enough to be noticed by others, but all had become accustomed to her loud remarks and made only quick glances at her table from out the corner of their eyes.

“We need you to find Jerry,” Nadja softly asserted while maintaining an erect and still posture. “You have the resources. Find him.”

“Jerry who?” Cassidy exclaimed in a poorly contained whisper. “What's his last name? Where does he live? How old is he? I need more.”

Cassidy’s animated reactions drew more attention. Much of what Cassidy said could not be heard by others in the room, but her points and leaning whispers repeatedly caught the attention of one or more persons in the restaurant. Her energetic behavior was made even more notable by Nadja’s calm and composed demeanor.

“He's connected with Tony McGuire,” Nadja coolly instructed in a soft voice. “We believe he works the books for him.”

“And Razvan told you this before he died?” Cassidy asked with a challenging tone.

“Yes,” Nadja answered with a slight nod.

Cassidy spent many minutes mulling over the Razvan connection to her search for the mysterious Jerry. Every time she devoted any thought to Razvan as the source that produced the name Jerry, she could not stop herself from wondering how that all came about.

“Why?” Cassidy asked sharply.

“Because we asked,” Nadja answered.

“Bullshit!” Cassidy responded at a level decidedly above a whisper.

Everyone in the restaurant turned their heads to look at Cassidy and Nadja if only for a moment. Nadja’s composure fell away slightly so that she could briefly peek at the other patrons, and then she turned her attention back toward Cassidy.

“Find Jerry!” Nadja asserted at a slightly elevated volume.

“I've got other things to do,” Cassidy softly argued. “I do have a job—investigations to work,” she continued while leaning over the top of her glass of water. “It's not like I have a lot of free time to chase down your leads.”

“Yeah, the James Dryden murder,” Nadja leaned slightly forward to whisper below a level that any other occupants in the room could hear. “We're looking into that.”

Cassidy was shocked to hear that the vampires were looking into another one of her investigations, and she showed her concern with a stunned expression.

“Stay away from my investigations,” Cassidy insisted in a stern but muffled voice.

“We don't have time for this,” Nadja sharply retaliated. “There could be immortals out there doubling in number every day,” she added with vehemence in her tone.

“Then you need to take care of that fast,” Cassidy countered with stare and a point. “Because if you don’t, I will go public.”

Nadja sat back a little with an almost relaxed demeanor.

“You can’t expose us without exposing Cristiãn,” Nadja returned with a smile.

Cassidy was angered by Nadja’s smug expression and hesitated to consider her next words.

“Don't make the mistake of thinking I won't,” Cassidy growled under her breath.

“Aw please,” Nadja responded with a huff. “I know a hard-up, cock whipped, prude when I see one,” she daringly added with a slightly forward lean.

“Get this in your head, leech,” Cassidy stressed at a level that was discernible to several of the nearest occupants in the restaurant. “I will do whatever I must.”

Nadja’s disposition suddenly blossomed into a visible display of anger. She started taking deep breaths to fume out her displeasure with Cassidy’s insulting words and the volume at which they were spoken. After several seconds of glaring, Nadja began speaking at a level loud enough for all the patrons to hear.

“Maybe you should’ve been thinking that way before you fucked my brother.”

All the patrons and the staff heard Nadja’s response. The room became quiet as everyone turned their attentions toward Nadja and Cassidy.

“Bitch!” Cassidy immediately responded.

Cassidy’s belligerent response sent the room into a hush, leading everyone to wonder if there would be more to their exhibition.

“Tight ass!” Nadja bellowed.

At this point, neither woman cared that there were others in the room.

“Parasite!” Cassidy returned loudly.

The other occupants in the restaurant gasped with Cassidy’s last retort.

“Cow!” Nadja shrieked.

At that point, their serving waitress rushed to their table with a flustered look while fumbling to bring her pen and order pad to the ready.

“Would you ladies like to order—or something?”

Cassidy and Nadja paused, fuming at each other while the other patrons watched and waited for what was to come next.

“You’ve got one week,” Cassidy insisted with a fierce stare.

The waitress waited several seconds more for one of the two women to give her their attention. Her eyes flirted from one to the other. Finally, Cassidy spoke to her without shifting her gaze from Nadja’s.

“I’m done,” Cassidy declared as she stood up. She pulled some cash out of her pocket and tossed it on the table. “The carnivore will have a steak—raw,” she grumbled at the waitress while nodding toward Nadja. Then she turned and stormed out of the restaurant. The shocked waitress watched her walk away before turning her attention to Nadja.

“Can I get that to go?” Nadja asked in jest.

“What?” The waitress queried with a confused look.

“Never mind,” Nadja returned as she got up. “We’re done here.”

Nadja put some more money on the table, collected her hat and left the restaurant.

~~~~~Line Break~~~~~

At 10:15am Monday morning, Kathryn Dryden walked into her living room dressed in slim fitting activewear with a towel across her shoulders and glistening sweat. Tall, slender, youthful and attractive, Kathryn was the ideal image of a trophy wife. After three steps into the room, she stopped and gave her visitor a suspicious look.

“You don’t look like a detective to me,” Kathryn challenged with a frown, and as she crossed her arms.

“I’m not,” Brooke responded with an air of indifference and as she quickly crossed the room to where Kathryn was standing. “Housekeepers are so easy to fool.”

Kathryn stood her ground and examined the attractive young woman approaching her with a mixture of suspicion and annoyance.

“Not Helen,” Kathryn disputed just as Brooke stopped a foot away from her.

“I have a gift for that sort of thing,” Brooke returned with a smile.

Kathryn was made even more suspicious by the attractive young woman’s ingratiating behavior. She had no idea who she was or why she was inside her home. Kathryn took a pause to assess the woman smiling in front of her.

“Well, if you’re not a cop, then who are you?” Kathryn queried with a distrusting gaze.

“My name is Brooke Chapman,” Adrianna announced while extending her hand out to Kathryn. “And we need to talk.”

Kathryn’s suspicion quickly changed to annoyance and anger. She did not like the fact that a stranger had entered her home and disrupted her routine, and she was even more annoyed by the fact that she was acting coy about why she was there.

“Look, Ms. Chapman,” Kathryn began to speak testily and while ignoring Brooke’s extended hand. “I have nothing to—say—to—the—news . . .” she continued until her voice trailed off into silence.

Kathryn’s animated facial expression gradually changed to a fixed emotionless stare. She was in a trance, and Brooke noted the condition with a smile.

“Good. Now we can have a nice little talk,” Brooke declared with a wide smile.

Brooke spent a little more than twenty minutes in Kathryn Dryden’s home. During that time, she extracted everything that Kathryn knew about her husband’s murder. That information included the name of the shooter, his present location and her connection to him. When she left Kathryn’s expensive Lenox Hill home, Ronald picked her up at the curb in his car. Brooke was not inside the vehicle for more than a minute when she began dialing Cassidy’s cellphone.

“Hi, Cassidy, this is Adrianna, I have some information to pass on to you about your Dryden investigation,” Brooke announced with a cheerless delivery.

“I told you not to do that,” Cassidy grumbled into her cellphone in a hushed voice.

Cassidy was seated behind her desk in the Manhattan South Detective’s squad room when Brooke’s call came in. It was 10:44am and she had not been back from Del Crespo’s for more than five minutes. The caller ID feature in her cellphone told her right away who was calling in. That information motivated her to try to conceal the nature of her conversation by turning away from others and lowering her voice, but that had the opposite effect with Vera. While everyone else in the office was disinterested in Cassidy’s personal calls, Vera became more interested, especially when she took such efforts to conceal them.

“Hey,” Brooke countered defensively and with temper in reaction to Cassidy’s angry admonishment. “I didn’t want to do this. I just did what I was told. Now do you want the information or not?”

Cassidy paused to consider her response, and then she relented with a look of exasperation.

“Okay, what do you have?” Cassidy asked while bringing a pen and pad to the ready.

With repeated looks out the corner of her eyes, Vera watched Cassidy attend to the phone call she just received and her reactions to what she was hearing from the caller, but what was being said in the call was beyond her hearing.

“Outside, eleven o’clock,” Brooke quickly instructed after Cassidy agreed to hear her report.

“No,” Cassidy commanded as sharply as she dared. “Give it to me now.”

Brooke took a long pause to consider Cassidy’s demand. It was contrary to her nature to speak about anything sensitive over the telephone, but she also did not want to spend any more time on this matter than she had to and none of it was about vampires.

“Either tell me now,” Cassidy whispered into her cellphone. “Or do your own looking for you know who.”

“Fine,” Brooke conceded with a huff. “You know, you people are so hypocritical,” she began in protest. “You kill millions of animals for food every year, you kill each other for all kinds of stupid reasons, and you call us monsters.”

“Give me the information,” Cassidy softly grumbled into her cellphone.

“Okay,” Brooke sharply returned. “The shooter’s name is Karl Volker. He was an off the books boy toy that Kathryn Dryden played around with on the side when she was a teenager. It was a wrong side of the tracks type of thing. She was fifteen and he was twenty when they first started—screwing around in the dark. He was a trailer park thug, and she was daddy’s little princess.”

“I get the picture, she wasn’t dating him,” Cassidy acknowledged.

“Right, this was very hush-hush,” Brooke quickly confirmed. “She had a Ken/Barbie relationship going on for the public with someone else, but this Volker character was the bad boy she liked to play around with on the side.”

“How bad?” An intrigued Cassidy asked.

“He did time for armed robbery and assault,” Brooke quickly answered. “That’s what split them up. He’s a suspect in a few other robberies that occurred back when Kathryn was sixteen and seventeen. In one of them, Kathryn drove the car that he got away in.”

“She told you that?” Cassidy asked in a surprised hush.

“Yep,” Brooke replied glibly. “She also told me that he got out of jail three years ago, and he called her immediately after his probationary period was over. That was two months ago. She sent him some money, and he came running. When he got here, they planned James Dryden’s murder.”

“Where is he now?” Cassidy softly whispered into her cellphone.

“He’s holdup in the Hoboken Rodeway Inn under the name Steve Babcock,” Brooke reported.

Cassidy was so busy scribbling down the information, she nearly forgot that Brooke was on the cellphone. When she was done writing, she turned her attention back to Brooke with a mild display of shock that she was still there.

“Is there anything else?” Cassidy asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Brooke spoke with a haughty air. “Seven years ago, Kathryn paid Karl Volker a visit—at the prison.”

Cassidy was so surprised by Brooke’s last report that she momentarily forgot to breathe. After her moment of astonishment, she disconnected the call without saying another word. She then began mining her computer for data that validated Brooke’s report. Inside the car, Brooke noted the sudden disconnection of her call with a look of annoyance followed by a one-word exclamation.

“Bitch.”