Real Vampires Live Large (Glory St. Clair #2)

Real Vampires Live Large (Glory St. Clair #2) Page 10

“Right.” My fellow vamp would be just as unhelpful to Steve as I was. Dealing with any kind of government official made me twitchy. Steve was cute, though. And I liked the way he kept giving me looks when he thought I wasn’t noticing.

“I’m meeting her in a few minutes. Her store had less damage than this one. Because the workers in the back had fire extinguishers.”

“Yeah, they’re open twenty-four seven. My shop’s closed every Sunday and Monday.” I took a step and a shattered porcelain figurine crunched under my feet. A black velvet cloche hat drooped with sodden feathers. I walked over to a soggy pile of silk scarves and picked up a yellow and orange Vera. These could be dry cleaned. And maybe a really genius cleaner could salvage the Chanel suit. “Go, if you want to talk to Diana. I’m going to stay in here for a few minutes. To assess the damage.”

“Here. You’ll need this.” Steve handed me his flashlight. “I’ve got another one in the car.”

“Thanks. I’ll get it back to you.” I swept the light around like I hadn’t already been able to see every excruciating detail perfectly with my vamp vision. The beam settled on the computer we used for everything from sales receipts to inventory. I swallowed. The thing was a melted mass of plastic. At least I had a backup copy of the info, but where? At the moment, I was too rattled to remember.

Steve pressed a card into my hand. “Call me if you think of anyone who might have had a grudge . . .”

I smiled. “Trust me. Women are pretty passionate about their clothes, but I don’t think any of them would destroy this many innocent . . . victims.”

Steve patted me on the shoulder. “Well, you never know. And I’ll probably be calling on you again too. For a progress report.”

He swept his eyes over me, over my clingy T-shirt and tight jeans that had zipped only after I’d stretched out flat on my back on the bed and sucked in my stomach. Hey, no pain, no gain.

Worth it, apparently, since I was detecting a little male interest from Steve, the fireman. I took a breath. That interest might come in handy if old Steve got too nosy and discovered I never, and I mean never, saw the light of day. Of course there was always the whammy.

“There you are. I’m a little early, but I’m anxious to talk to you, Detective.” Diana had poked her head into the doorway. She gasped when she saw my shop. “Oh, Glory! This is horrible. Much worse than my place.”

“Thanks, Diana. I needed an outside opinion.” I shook my head. No need to act the bitch to Diana. She was my friend and a vampire who’d been a role model as far as creating a successful business goes. “Sorry. I’m reeling.”

“Sure you are, honey. The place will come back together, you’ll see.” Diana frowned as she looked around.

“I could run a sale. Southern fried suits half price.” I faked a laugh, then put my hand on Steve’s arm. “Let us know when the electricity will be back on. We both want to get in here as soon as possible. And moved back in upstairs, of course.”

“Should be soon. Inspectors will be out tomorrow, but it doesn’t look like the fire spread enough to do any structural damage to me.” Steve squeezed my hand, then walked over to Diana.

“That’s great. Come over here and let me know what you think. ” Diana had cleaned up pretty well and had on a Mugs and Muffins T-shirt that highlighted her assets. Steve was in megaboob heaven.

“I’ll talk to you later, Glory.” Steve trailed Diana without a backward glance.

“I’m coming in.” Valdez stepped across the threshold.

“No, don’t. I’m not going to spend the rest of the night picking glass out of your paws.” I pushed him back out the door. “I’ll be out in a minute. Guard the door.”

“Gloriana, honey. I thought I was in the fires of hell yesterday. ” A figure appeared in front of me. Emmie Lou Nutt and her husband Harvey are my resident ghosts. Emmie’s stuck for eternity in what she’d had on when she died, a cute little cowgirl outfit that would have been a big seller in the shop. She’d had it on for the Texas State Fair pie competition. It definitely made you think about what you wore on a daily basis. In case you were run over by a pickup truck.

“I’m sorry, Emmie. I’d say someone with a hate for vampires decided to make a statement.”

“Somebody. I’ll say. First the window blows out. Then whoosh, fire everywhere.” Emmie fanned herself and drifted over to the doorway. “It wasn’t kids either. I saw the whole thing.”

I put down the laundry basket I’d started filling with everything I thought could be washed.

“Really? You saw who did it?” I don’t know why that got me excited. It’s not as if I could send a ghost down to pick the perp out of a lineup. I watch cop shows. Obviously.

“I saw him too. He ever sets foot in here, Glory, darlin’, we’ll get him good.” Harvey appeared in front of me. His starched and pressed jeans and western shirt had probably been made that way by his beloved Emmie before the fateful day when they ’d headed to the state fair. The day he’d accidentally run over Emmie in the parking lot. Could a ghost still iron?

“You okay, Glory?” Harvey looked at Emmie. “Maybe you should come back later. With some help.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not all right. I think Westwood’s behind this.” I grabbed some cotton skirts and stuffed them in the basket.

“Wouldn’t surprise me none.” Emmie hovered over a shattered crystal vase. “Bastard seems determined to make your life a misery.”

“Emmie Lou Nutt!” Harvey drifted closer to his wife.

“Well, it’s true. He’s a bastard. Lacy told us he tried to kill our Glory and that nice Mr. Blade on Halloween.”

I sighed and dropped another skirt in the basket. “Blade’s going after him.”

“Good. Mr. Blade looks like he can handle himself.” Emmie shook her head. “You’re gonna need starch and a hot iron after you wash those, honey. I always liked the spray starch myself.” Emmie sniffled. “Dang it. I never thought I’d miss ironing.” She sobbed and disappeared.

Harvey grunted. “Glory, you just be careful. Without Mr. Blade—”

“I can take care of myself.” I looked at Valdez. “And I’ve got some help.”

“Talking to yourself, Gloriana?” Richard Mainwaring lounged in the door. Valdez lay calmly by the door and barely twitched.

“No. I’m talking to ghosts.” I looked around. Harvey had vanished too. “And what did you do to my guard dog?”

“Valdez is doing his job. He knows I’m no threat to you.” Richard stepped inside and looked around. “Ghosts? Whatever you say, my dear.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mainwaring. I have ghosts here. Nice ones. And they’ll make you sorry if you aren’t nice to me too.” A soggy alligator bag sailed across the room and barely missed Richard’s head. “See?”

He reached up and snagged it in midair in a pretty impressive vamp move. “Yes, I see.” He set the purse down on the blackened counter. “You’ve got a mess here. So I guess I’ll have to postpone my plans for you.”

“Your plans? For me?” Damn it. Wasn’t there anywhere I could sit in here? I headed to the back room and sat on the wooden table there. Between the smell and the sheer trauma of the whole fire thing, I was a little weak in the knees. A wet butt was worth it.

“You owe me a debt. I haven’t forgotten.” Richard pulled a paper from his back pocket. He wore leather pants that should have been illegal, they were so . . . formfitting. I made myself look into his eyes. His brilliant blue eyes that matched the faded ZZ Top Tshirt he wore. Mainwaring and classic rock. The man obviously had depth.

“How much?” I stretched out my hand. Good thing I was sitting, the estimate from a Harley specialty shop was three figures, nearly four. I sighed and handed it back to him. “What are they doing, plating it in diamonds?”

Richard looked down at the paper. “This is a reasonable estimate. The work is delicate. And it’s platinum. Diamonds would be too flashy.”

He’d made a joke. His sexy grin confirmed it. I smiled back. Maybe he was going to be reasonable. Surely he realized I was ass deep in alligators here, with my livelihood in ruins.

“Ass deep in alligators? Where did you hear that?” Richard was grinning for sure now.

“My ghosts. They have a colorful vocabulary.” I leaned closer. “And quit reading my mind. I hate it.”

“I know. It’s rude.” He tucked the paper back in his pocket. “But definitely informative. I consider it a survival skill.”

“Yes, well, obviously I’m going to be strapped for cash for a while. Can we work out some kind of payment plan? Say, a dollar a week?” I should not be interested in the pull of the leather across his zipper area. “Hey, I’ll live long enough to pay it out.” Forget the dollar deal. I had a mental picture, just a snatch, of two naked bodies working something out on a wide bed. I threw up a block in case Richard was getting the same X-rated preview. Preview? No way. I was with Blade. Had enjoyed something wonderful with him just hours ago.

“I’ll think of something.” He was still grinning and he moved closer, until he was almost between my legs. He grunted when a vintage Tony Lama boot whacked him between the shoulder blades. “Hey, I’m Glory’s friend. Tell them, Gloriana.” He looked down at me, his eyes gleaming.

“He’s okay, guys.” My ghosts were rooting for Blade. Emmie Lou in particular liked the way he looked out for me. And Harvey saw Blade as a man’s man. Which he was. When he was just a man. Now he’s a vampire’s vampire. Richard is too. Sort of. If said vampire is behaving himself. But let a vampire go rogue, endangering the rest of us with reckless behavior, and Richard is there to see justice done. He considers himself an enforcer, a vamp vigilante. Probably goes back to his stint in the priesthood.