Bloody Bones(12)

"I'll give you a piece of the profits, Ms. Blake. You could be a billionaire in a few years."

"You know bribing won't work."

"I knew it wouldn't work just a few minutes after we met, but I had to try."

"You really do believe this is the Bouvier family plot, don't you?" I asked.

He took a deep breath and walked away from me to gaze off at the trees. He wasn't going to answer my question, but he didn't have to. He wouldn't be so desperate if he didn't believe he was screwed.

"Why won't the Bouviers sell?"

He glanced back at me. "I don't know."

"Look, Stirling, there are just the two of us up here, nobody to impress, no witnesses. You know why they won't sell. Just tell me."

"I don't know, Ms. Blake," he said.

"You're a control freak, Mr. Stirling. You've overseen every detail of this deal. You have personally seen that every 'i' was dotted, every 't' crossed. This is your baby. You know everything about the Bouviers and their problem. Just tell me."

He just looked at me. His pale eyes were opaque, empty as a window with no one home. He knew, but he wasn't going to tell me. Why?

"What do you know about the Bouviers?"

"The locals think they're witches. They do a little fortune-telling, a few harmless spells." There was something about the way he said it, too casual, too offhand. Made me want to meet the Bouviers in person.

"They any good at magic?" I asked.

"How am I supposed to know?"

I shrugged. "Just curious. Is there a reason why it had to be this mountain?"

"Look at it." He spread his arms wide. "It's perfect. It is perfect."

"It is a great view," I said. "But wouldn't the view be equally good over on that mountaintop? Why did you have to have this one? Why did you have to have the Bouviers' mountain?"

His shoulders slumped; then he straightened and glared at me. "I wanted this land, and I got it."

"You got it. Trick is, Raymond, can you keep it?"

"If you are not going to help me, then don't taunt me. And don't call me Raymond."

I opened my mouth to say something else and my beeper went off. I fished under the coverall for it, and checked the number. "Shit," I said.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm being paged by the police. I've got to get to a phone."

He frowned at me. "Why would the police be calling you?"

So much for being a household name. "I'm the legal vampire executioner for a three-state area. I'm attached to the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team."

He was looking very steadily at me. "You surprise me, Ms. Blake. Not many people do that."

"I need to find a phone."

"I have a portable with a battery pack at the bottom of this damned hill."

"Great. I'm ready to head down if you are."

He did one last turn, taking in that breath-stealing billion-dollar view. "Yes, I'm ready to go down."

It was an interesting choice of words, a Freudian slip you might say. Stirling had wanted this land for some perverse reason. Maybe because he was told he couldn't have it. Some people are like that. The more you say no, the more they want you. It reminded me of a certain master vampire I knew.

Tonight I'd walk the land, visit with the dead. It would probably be tomorrow night before I actually tried to raise them. If the police matter was pressing enough, it might be longer. I hoped it wasn't pressing. Pressing usually meant dead bodies. When the monsters are involved, it's never just one dead body. One way or another, the dead multiply.





5




We got back to the valley. The construction crew was gone except for Beau the foreman. Ms. Harrison and Bayard stood next to the helicopter, as if huddling against the wilderness. Larry and the pilot stood to one side, smoking, sharing that comradery of all people who are determined to blacken their lungs.

Stirling walked towards them all, his stride firm and confident once more. He'd left his doubts on top of the mountain. or so it seemed. He was the impervious senior partner once more. Illusion is all.

"Bayard, get the phone. Ms. Blake needs to use it."

Bayard gave a startled little jump, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. Ms. Harrison looked a little flushed. Was there romance in the air? And was that not allowed? No fraternizing among the flunkies.

Bayard ran off across the dirt towards the last car. He fetched what looked like a small, black leather backpack with a handle. He pulled a phone out and handed it to me. It looked like an antennaed walkie-talkie.

Larry walked over smelling of smoke. "What's up?"

"I got beeped."

"Bert?"

I shook my head. "Police." I walked a little ways from our group. Larry was polite enough to stay with them, though he didn't have to. I dialed Dolph's number. Detective Sergeant Rudolf Storr was head of the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team.