"So how long have you been in the profession?" I took another step forward. That strange scent got a bit stronger, reminding me more and more of a vampire's scent - only if the killer was a vampire, then he was one who smelled like no other vampire I'd come across.
"I've been in the business since I was seventeen. There wasn't a whole lot else a kid with little schooling could do. Even apprenticeships need minimum grade levels."
The closer I got to the bed, the stronger that odd smell got, and the more certain I became it was vampire. A vampire that smelled like no other, but a vampire all the same. And he'd been here recently. I stripped off the bedcovers and bent to sniff the sheets.
The scents of wolf and sex emanated off them, but though the vampire stench was extremely strong near the bed, he - or she - hadn't been in it. Not that it meant anything. Someone who liked hanging themselves for kicks wasn't likely to be restricted to a bed for lovemaking.
I looked at Ben. "Were any of Denny's lovers vampires?"
He frowned. "Not that I know of. He had a couple of wolves he'd mentioned recently, but never a vampire."
"Well, one's been in this room. You can smell him near the bed."
He came into the room, filling the whiteness with his dark vitality. He drew in a breath, then his blue gaze met mine. "Something smells old. Off, almost."
I nodded. "Vampire."
He frowned. "Vampires don't smell like that."
"Maybe not the ones you associate with, but the ones I deal with, yeah, they do." I contemplated the heavy metal hook for a moment. There were no vibes of power in this room, no chill that indicated the other side was coming out to play. Maybe his soul had moved on, or maybe he simply didn't want to talk. "I guess the first thing we need to do is try and uncover the name of the vampire who was here. What clubs did Denny frequent?">I frowned. "Ben Wilson? I don't know anyone by that name."
"He says otherwise."
Which didn't exactly help. I shifted from one foot to the other and watched a woman in ultra-high, ultra-red stilettos toddle past. My nose twitched. She smelled of rum and cigarette smoke. "Is that all he said?"
"No, he said something about remembering Shadow, whatever the hell that is."
The name clicked. Ben was Shadow, a big, black wolf who managed Nonpareil, a stripper business that catered - as both strippers and studs - to human and nonhuman parties alike. I'd met him briefly while investigating a case a few months ago, and while we'd shared an attraction, I'd been with Kellen at the time and had promised to remain faithful to him.
Fat lot of good it had done me, too.
I blew out a breath, pushed away the lingering remnants of heartache, and said, "Did he leave a phone number?"
"He did. But this is the last time I'm relaying personal messages."
"It's not personal. It's business." Which wasn't exactly a lie, because I actually had no idea what Ben wanted. I doubted if it would be personal, though. Not after all this time.
She grunted. "Not believing that for an instant, wolf girl." She rattled off a phone number. "He also said you can contact him via the office if there's no answer on his cell."
"You're such a sweetie, Sal."
"You know where you can shove being a sweetie," she said and hung up.
I chuckled softly. Jack had told me numerous times to stop being such a bitch around Sal, but baiting that woman was just too much fun to let it go.
I dialed the number she'd given me. It rang several times, then a deep voice said, "Ben Wilson speaking."
"Ben, it's Riley Jenson, returning your call."
"Thank you for calling back." There was more than a touch of relief in his rich tones. "I know you don't know me or anything, but I'm in need of some help, and you're the only guardian I know."
Well, at least I'd been right before. It was business. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, then wanted to smack myself for even thinking the latter.
"What sort of help?" I said, perhaps a touch more sharply than I'd intended.
He hesitated. "One of our strippers has just been murdered."
"Then call the police."