One of the uniformed officers came in to the living room to hand Hardin a paper cup of coffee. Rick declined the offer of a cup for him.
“So she had a criminal background,” Hardin said. “Did she do any time?”
“No,” Rick said. “She was a runner, a messenger. Never anything more serious than that.”
“Prostitution?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He was pretty sure he would have known if she had. But he couldn’t honestly say what she’d done before he met her. “I know she saw a lot that she probably wasn’t supposed to see. She testified in a murder trial.”
“You said that was over sixty years ago. Surely anybody who wanted to get rid of a witness is long gone,” the detective said.
“You only asked if I knew why someone would want to kill her. That’s all I can think of. She didn’t have much property, and no family to leave it to even if she did. But I do know that sixty years ago, a few people did have a reason to want her dead.”
“Only a vampire would think it reasonable to look into sixty year-old motives for murder.”
He hadn’t really thought of it like that, but she was right.
“Do you have any other questions, Detective?”
“What did she do since then? I take it she wasn’t still working as a runner.”
“She went straight. Worked retail. Retired fifteen years ago or so. She led a very quiet life.”
“And you said she doesn’t have any family? She never married, had kids?”
“No, she didn’t. I think her will has me listed as executor. I can start making arrangements.”
She rested her pen again. “Do you think she was lonely?”
“I don’t know, Detective. She never told me.” He thought she probably was, at least some of the time.
“Well, I’ll dig up what I can in the police records, but I’m not sure we even have anything going that far back. When was that murder trial she testified in?”
“1947,” he said. “The man she testified against was Charles Blake. He got a life sentence.”
She shook her head. “That still blows my mind. And I suppose you’ll tell me you remember it like it was yesterday?”
Rick shook his head. “No. Even I know that was a long time ago.”
In fact, he had to think a moment to remember what the Helen of that time had looked like—young, fri
volous, hair in curls, dresses hugging her frame. When he thought of Helen, he saw the old woman she had become. He didn’t even have any strong feelings about the change—it was just what happened. His mortal friends grew old and died. He preferred that to when they died young.
Many of his kind didn’t bother, but Rick still liked being in the world, moving as part of it. Meeting people like Helen. Even if it meant saying goodbye more often.
Hardin’s gaze turned thoughtful. “If I were immortal, I’d go see the world. I’d finally learn French.”
Rick chuckled; he’d never learned French. “And yet vampires tend to stay in one place. Watch the world change around them.”
“So you’ve been here for five hundred years?”
“Not here in Denver, but here in the west? Yes. And I’ve seen some amazing things.”
“A lot of murders?” she asked.
“A few,” he said.
She considered him a long time, pondering more questions, no doubt. In the end, she just shook her head. “I’ll call you if I need any more information.”