“It sounds like a wonderful problem to have.”
“Sir, it’s not that simple.”
“No?”
“Sometimes it’s…easier to stay by yourself.”
“Keep the status quo, you mean.”
“Yes.”
“It’s certainly safer.”
“Yes.” She saw where he was going and gave voice to her biggest fear. “He’s a child with a crush.”
“He looked full-grown to me. He also looks like a man who knows what he wants.”
“Hmph.”
They had finished searching the bed-and-breakfast, which was free of guests except for a couple on their honeymoon, currently enjoying themselves behind a closed bedroom door. No serial killers in that room.
Sophie was embarrassed; for a while she’d completely forgotten that there was quite a bit more at stake than her love life. But she and the king were almost half-hearted about the search; their enhanced senses had already told them the B and B was virtually deserted, but it was always best to make sure.
“Thank you for listening,” she said, following him back out the front door. “I appreciate your advice and will think hard about what you’ve said.”
“I didn’t say much,” he replied mildly. “Compared to my queen, I’m not much of a talker.”
“Is that some kind of slam, pal? Because if you wanna go, we’ll go.” Betsy was walking through the front yard, Liam on her heels. “No luck at the other place. They’ve got a full house, and none of them are our guy. It’s all couples.”
“Couples like the killer with his new girlfriend?” Sophie asked.
“Naw,” Liam said. “Couples like retired people on vacation. You guys didn’t have any luck?”
“How could you search an entire house, then drive across town and be here just as we finished?” Sinclair asked.
“Dude: have you seen this town? It’s, like, a mile long. Is it our fault we’re way more efficient at looking for killers than you two are? I’m telling you, our guy’s not there.”
“Well, he isn’t here either,” Sophie said. “Damn it all. We’ll have to go back and talk to Shawna’s mother some more, poor thing. I was hoping we could leave her out of it.”
Liam was looking at the wooden sign over the front door. “This is the Rose Manor. But The Garden Bed-and-Breakfast is the one we’re looking for. We just assumed this was The Garden, because it’s the other B and B you can see from the road. But…”
“There’s another one,” Sinclair said immediately. “Probably called The Iris or something tiresome like that. But since the same people own and run them both, they’re considered one business. We checked the one across town, and we checked this one, because those are the two businesses.”
A quick trip inside to speak with the owner confirmed their suspicions; there was indeed one other B and B called The Garden.
“Stupid,” Liam said disgustedly. “We should have checked. Never assume, that’s what my mom always said.”
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said. “We checked the two in town. What are you talking about?”
“There’s three in town, and they’re all under the business name The Garden, because they’re all owned by the same family. We checked two of them…you and Sinclair checked The Rose, Betsy and I checked The Tulip.” At her mystified expression, he continued. “Those are the names of the individual houses, though they’re all under the same business name. But there’s one more, like the guy said inside. And it’ll have another flower name, like Sinclair said.”
“I guess it makes sense for the bad guy to make it hard for us to track him down,” Betsy said. “I know I’m totally confused. But if there’s another one, there’s another one. Let’s go check it out.”
Five minutes later, they were standing at the end of a long driveway outside a third Victorian with yet another flower motif.
“The Sweetheart Rose,” Sinclair said. “I was close.”
“We’re assuming he’s even still there,” Betsy said. “If it was me, I’d be long gone.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Sophie said as Sinclair nodded agreement. “With the funeral, and the reporters, and all the mourners…there’s too much here for him still.”
“Prick,” Betsy commented, and this time, everyone nodded.
12
THE villain met them on the front steps.
This was startling, to say the least.
“Hello,” he said cheerfully. “I was just leaving to go break another girl’s heart, so I only have a minute.”
Sophie felt like hitting him. With luck, she would soon be doing exactly that. “You what?”
“Dude, you are so busted,” Betsy told him. Then, to Sinclair, “This kind of takes of fun out of it. No big showdown scene. Unless this is it.”
“You killed all those girls,” Sophie said, beginning to recover. She had a horrible feeling she knew why the youngish-looking man seemed so unconcerned. “It’s the same as if you had…” She groped for the words. “Shot them or used a knife on them.”
“Yes, I know.” She could see why he passed for a premed student; he didn’t look a day over twenty-five. He was short, only a few inches taller than she was, with hair that was exactly between blond and brown. He had pleasant features and looked rather like anyone else on the street, in his denim jacket and khaki slacks. His eyes were wide-set and brown. They were the only feature that gave him away. They glittered like a snake’s. “I’ve been meaning to get down to Minneapolis and…” He cut himself off and laughed. “Okay, that’s a lie. I’ve been up here having some fun, for a change.”
Sophie was staring at him. They were all, she realized, staring at him. Betsy was right. This was a very odd way to go about catching a killer. “For a change?” she finally asked, when no one else said anything.
“Sure. I mean, working for Nostro, talk about all work and no play making me a dull boy. I actually missed the big fight, when this guy here”—he nodded at Sinclair—“took control of the whole shebang. I was out getting Nostro some more girls.”
“You brought him victims.”
“Sure.”
“And when he wasn’t holding your leash any longer,” Sinclair went on with terrifying pleasantness, “you decided to come and…how did you put it? Have some fun?”
“Sure.” The killer looked puzzled. “Look, I know I should have come down and paid my respects, but you haven’t been in power that long, and I figured I had time—”
“We’re not here about that,” Betsy said, exasperated. “Jeez. Like we care if you come down to the cities and kiss our asses, or pretend to kiss our asses, which is way worse. We’re here to stop you from killing anybody else.”
The killer’s brow wrinkled as he struggled with the alien concept. “But…why? Do you need my help with something? I’ll be glad to go back to Minneapolis—”
“Dude…We. Don’t. Want. You. To. Kill. Anybody. Else.”
“Because. It’s. Wrong,” Sophie added.
“Do you mean, it’s wrong because I’m not letting you have a crack at the girls? I could—”
“Stop talking now,” Sinclair said.
“Do you believe this guy?” Betsy cried, turning to the group. “He’s not getting this at all. He—” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the expression on Sophie’s face, and the identical one on Sinclair’s. “You guys totally expected this!”
“Well…” Sophie began, but had no idea where to go from there.
“This is a regular thing for vampires?” Liam asked, his displeasure evident.
“No,” Sophie said. “Er…all right, sometimes. Not the making the girls fall in love with him part. But the, ah, other part.”
“See? See? This is why I’m not getting on board with the whole consort thing,” Betsy told him triumphantly. “And why being a vampire makes my skin crawl. Just when I think it might not be a totally insane idea, something like this happens. And you’re all, ‘Ho hum, another vampire who’s a total psycho killer, oh well.’”