senses.
"Can I help you, boys?"
Victor glanced down at the man who had approached. Five foot eleven or there about,
the man was a good six inches shorter than Victor himself, and three or four inches
shorter than DJ. He carried himself with the authority that his badge and uniform
afforded him, obviously the local police. Possibly the only one, Victor guessed. It was a
small town after all.
"Well?" The officer demanded, his voice and expression going hard in response to
Victor's silent examination.
"No," he answered simply and started to move past him, pausing abruptly when he
found his arm caught in a firm grip.
"This is a private party," the officer said grimly, and Victor understood why their
entrance had drawn attention.
"I was invited," Victor announced. The answer seemed to echo in the room, making
him realize just how quiet the restaurant had become now that the talking and music
had stopped. Suddenly uncomfortable, he shifted as the officer studied him more
closely.
"Victor Argeneau?" he finally asked, his voice uncertain.
Victor nodded, wondering how the man knew his name. He had a brief horrible
memory of a T‐shirt his computer geek nephew Etienne had favored for a while. It had
been plain white with the words "I'm the teenage nympho you've been talking to on‐
line" or something of that ilk. For one moment he feared this was Elvi Black, but then
the man smiled faintly and said, "You don't look much like that picture Mabel showed
me. Your hair was shorter and you were wearing a suit and tie."
Victor had no idea who Mabel was and didn't care, but the picture in question was the
one DJ had said he'd e‐mailed to Elvi Black.
"And you brought a friend," the officer went on, his gaze turning to DJ with an
appraising quality. If Victor looked scruffy compared to his photo, DJ just plain looked
scruffy. He had developed something of an allergy to shaving about a year earlier and
now resembled a young grizzly Adams. He too wore jeans and a T‐shirt, but his jeans
were blue and his T‐shirt bore the name Alexander Keith's and a logo for the popular
brand of beer. DJ wasn't much into fashion.
"He drove me," Victor said as explanation, and was immediately annoyed that he
offered one.
"Don't you have a car, son?" The officer asked suspiciously.
Victor's mouth tightened. It was always seen as a bit less respectable not to have a car
in Canada.
"I have several. I don't like to drive cars," Victor answered shortly and then asked,
"Where is Elvi?"
"She isn't here yet. I'm supposed to keep you company for a bit."
When Victor raised an eyebrow in question, the man shook his head and held out his
hand. "I'm forgetting my manners. Teddy Brunswick, police captain of Port Henry, at
your service."
Victor accepted the hand and shook it, his attention on the wide grin now on Captain
Teddy Brunswick's face. The expression made him look like the sheriff from an old
black‐and‐white series he used to watch. It made him wonder if there wasn't some
goofy, geeky idiot deputy running around somewhere. Victor was a big television buff
and had no problem imagining a grinning idiot Don Knotts‐type following this more
intelligent, mellow man around. He managed to refrain from asking.
"Captain Brunswick." Victor gave a nod, then, since the man already knew his name,
simply turned to gesture to his younger companion and said, "DJ."
"DJ what?" the officer asked bluntly.
The question made the younger immortal smile. "DJ Benoit. Gonna run me through the
system and see if anything pops up?"
"Yes," Officer Brunswick said unapologetically.
DJ actually laughed, then glanced to Victor and announced, "I like him."
"He just insulted you," Victor pointed out with amusement. The lad often made him
smile, which was a rarity. Little made him smile these last three centuries, but he
found working with DJ similar to working with an overexuberant puppy. Victor actually
enjoyed him for a partner more than the many morose men he'd worked with before,
and was growing rather attached to the lad. Still, the day the boy peed on someone's
carpet, he'd be asking for a new partner.
"You shouldn't really be insulted," Captain Brunswick told DJ. "I've already checked out
Argeneau and the names of the others coming here looking to date our Elvi."
Victor decided then that Captain Brunswick was a man who needed his memory wiped.
So would this Mabel by the sounds of it. And then what he'd said registered and Victor
frowned. "The others coming here?" he echoed, scowling at DJ. "There are others
coming?"