The Shake
tell me, and Richardson wanted to steer me toward these Russians. He probably thought they could get me off his back.The girl was still breathing, but she hadn’t moved from where Danny had thrown her off the sofa. “Who’s the girl?” I asked.
Danny looked at her like she was as irritating as the pee he was sitting in. “A customer. Nobody, really. Just some fucked up rich chick.”
“You use this shit?” I asked him, pointing to the drug paraphernalia on the coffee table.
“Fuck no, man. That’s for stupid people. It’s strictly business.”
“And young girls.”
“Whatever, man.”
Danny just wasn’t a very likable guy. That, in itself, was not a reason for me to kill him, but the circumstances were offering me a convenient meal, and that was a reason.
“So, you hungry?” I asked, as if we were old buddies who might step out for pizza.
Danny looked confused.
“Hungry?” I repeated. “You want to get a bite to eat?”
Danny started to laugh, but tried to hold it back, making a choking sound that escaped through his nose. “No I don’t want anything to eat. Jesus!”
“You don’t mind if I grab a bite, do you?”
“Whatever, man.”
So I did. I drank about a quart, then held Danny down on the sofa and let rest of his blood mix with the girl’s pee. When he was almost dead, I went through the kitchen drawers and found a small screwdriver and used it to stab Danny a couple of times in the neck to disguise the teeth marks, then cleaned my prints off the screwdriver.
The young girl had beautiful hands. Slender and very soft. The nails looked like they’d been done professionally. The cops were going to have fun figuring this one out. I pressed the handle of the screwdriver into her palm. She surprised me by gripping it, like an infant grasping its mother’s finger. She was a minor. She’d get off easy. Maybe the ordeal would help her clean up her act. Or not.
I went into the bathroom and washed my face and hands. There was some blood on my shirt, so I took it off and buried it on the bottom of Danny’s overflowing laundry basket. I put on the spare I carried in my fanny pack, then left the house, sliding the back door closed on my way out.
The connection, whatever it was, between Arnaud and Richardson was puzzling. It may have been limited to whatever drug-related business transpired between them, but I had a hunch there was more to it. Richardson would need a good reason to put a cop, no matter how dirty, between Danny and his customers. I had no idea what that reason might be, but it could have had something to do with the missing girl. Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe the Russians killed Arnaud for reasons that had nothing to do with Richardson. Maybe Arnaud had been killed over something related to the missing girl and Richardson’s role was just to set up the drug buy. It was possible Richardson didn’t even know in advance that Arnaud was going to be killed.
I was going to have to dig a little deeper.
Chapter 10
Karla had only been working for me for a few days, and I wanted to give her time to get settled into the job. I thought I’d have her drive me a few more times, run some errands, and so on, before I started expanding her duties. As it turned out, our next evening drive wasn’t as routine as I’d intended.
I gave her a call and asked her to pick me up at 11:00 p.m. at the footbridge. The night was breezy and overcast, but it didn’t feel like rain. Karla was right on time. Her outfit wasn’t as blue-collar this time. She was wearing her leather jacket over a light sweater, but no hat. She was also wearing makeup: lipstick and eye shadow, and what she probably thought was a subtle touch of perfume. To my vampire nose, the touch wasn’t so subtle. Fortunately, it wasn’t one of those modern androgynous scents that suggest an attempt to market youthful innocence in the guise of debauchery. Or was it debauchery in the guise of innocence? Either way, this particular fragrance was something from the chypre family, with a hint of patchouli, which I rather liked.
The evening’s destination was a rural area northeast of town, around Sloughhouse. It was far enough away from the city that there was still pastureland with small herds of horses and cattle. A mammal as large as a horse or cow has enough blood in its body that a few pints can be drained off without causing the animal any harm. The careful incision of a leg artery produces an abundant flow of blood, and coagulates soon enough not to endanger the animal’s life. Not that I was concerned about the animal’s life. It’s just that a dead horse attracts the owner’s attention and scrutiny, whereas a small cut will most likely go completely unnoticed. Which means I can go back to the same herds again and again without arousing suspicion.
My intention was to have Karla park somewhere convenient and wait in the car while I slipped into a nearby field to practice my bloodletting arts. We took Watt Avenue south, turned east on Jackson Road, then south again on Sloughhouse Road. A mile or so further, there was a stand of eucalyptus trees where a creek crossed under the road. The shoulder there was wide enough to park the car and the fields on both sides of the road were used to graze a few horses and cattle.
“I won’t be long,” I said, opening the door. “Maybe fifteen minutes. You should keep the doors locked while I’m gone.”
She looked around, trying to imagine what we were doing parked in the middle of nowhere, but she didn’t ask. I heard the locks click after I’d shut the door. When I was far enough away from the car to be sure Karla