'Is it fair to try to stop the will of the Lord?'
'I'm sure your volunteers need rest too.'
'They don't like the color either, do they? Those people who complain?
They don't like the color the Lord Jesus Christ has chosen to make His church?'
Robert glanced down at the sidewalk. 'I wouldn't know about that.'
'Black is Christ's favorite color. In Heaven, His rooms are the color of jet. There is a glorious mansion of blackness to house the Lord of hosts.'
Robert shook his head. 'Look, I'm asking you kindly, as an act of charity so to speak, to cut down on the noise. Your people can still paint, can still do quiet work. Just cut out the sawing and hammering and loud stuff between, say, eight at night and six in the morning.'
'No. I am afraid construction of the Lord's home cannot be postponed for the convenience of unbelievers.'
'I don't want to right with you, Reverend.'
'Then don't.'
'I could charge you with disturbing the peace, you know--if I wanted to get nasty. I hope it doesn't come to that. But the people who live in this neighborhood have rights too. What we need to do here is reach some kind of compromise, find a way to satisfy both sides.'
'There is only one side. And if you try to halt construction on this church for even a minute, I will slap you, the police department, and the town with a harassment suit.'
Robert started up the steps. 'I don't know who you think--'
'You are trespassing on my land,' Wheeler said. 'Get off my property.
You have no warrant.'
Robert stared at him in disbelief. 'This is a church.' 'It is my church. It is not public property.' 'Jesus Christ.'
The pastor's face turned a deep cranberry red. He turned and walked into the building without speaking, closing the door loudly and firmly shut behind him. Robert waited for a few moments at the bottom of the steps, on the public sidewalk, not on church property, but when it became clear that Wheeler was not going to come out again, he headed back to the cruiser.
If that son of a bitch wanted to play hardball, then hardball it would be.
He did not look back at the church as he peeled out and sped down the street.
Rich came by after four. He'd brought Anna with him, and he left her out in the lobby where Lee Anne and Jud could keep her occupied at the front desk, and walked back to Robert's office alone.
Robert was scanning the index of The Vampire: His Kith and Kin when his brother knocked on the door and stepped into the office. He looked up, smiled tiredly, and closed the book. 'How's the news biz?'
'Still on a winning streak.' Rich nodded toward the pile on his brother's desk as he leaned against the window. 'What's with the books?'
'I've been reading up on vampires.' Robert smiled wryly, picked up the top volume. 'I thought I could learn something, but most of it's a load of crap. I've gotten some history, but mostly it's a lot of English professors talking about the 'metaphor of the vampire,' explaining how sex lies at the root of the vampire's appeal. The reason people have been interested in vampires over the centuries is because they're supposed to be sexy. The vampire represents repressed sexuality, you know.'
Rich smiled halfheartedly.
Robert shook his head. 'Real vampires aren't sexy, though, are they?
The word 'suck' sounds erotic when you read it, but when you come across the body of someone who's been completely drained of all fluids, it's not erotic, just scary as hell.' He dropped the book on his desk.
'English professors. Literary critics. Who are these people and why don't they just use a little common sense?
Bloodsucking is sexy these men get boners when they cut themselves shaving? Do these women get all hot and wet when they slice their fingers chopping vegetables? Jesus, what happens when they participate in the blood drive? There must be orgasms galorel' He snorted. 'Who perpetuates this shill'
Rich smiled. 'They're talking about vampires in literature Not real life. They don't know there are vampires in real life.'
'Well, there are That's not a metaphor runnin around loose out there and draining people of blood.' He pushed the pile of books away from him and stood. 'We need to kill this fucker, not interpret his meaning. I got more information about vampires from horror flicks than I did from most of these books.'
'They're right about one thing,' Rich said. 'There is an appeal to vampires. But it's not sex. It has nothing to do with eroticism or repressed desire or forbidden love or any of that.' He pointed out the window toward the black church, visible over a low row of houses. 'It's the same appeal as that, as religion. It's a chance to live for ever.
A guarantee that your consciousness will survive death.'
'What can we do about that place?' Robert walked over to the window to join his brother. 'I can't get a search warrant because I have no probable cause. Judge Simons says that the Constitution guarantees freedom of religion and that a preacher can build whatever kind of church he wants. He looked me straight in the eye and told me that a preacher should be able to do that without fear of police harassment.'
'He's right.'
'I know he is. But it pisses me off.' Robert shook his head. 'Maybe we should just burn the fucking place down.'
Rich smiled. 'Do you ever wonder what people would think if our conversations were bugged? I mean, here we are, the police chief and the editor of the paper, talking about setting fire to a church.'
'I wasn't serious. 'I know. But it's still a strange thing for people in our positions to discuss.'
'We were brothers before we got our jobs. We were speaking as brothers, not cop and reporter.'
'Forget it,' Rich said. 'It was just an observation. Damn, you're testy today.'
'A vampire's out there killing people. What do you expect?'
'You know, I was thinking this afternoon about that old ghost town off the Globe Highway.'
Robert frowned. 'What ghost town? Those four old shacks by the side of the road?'
''Yeah. I mean, that place has no name. No one knows who used to live there or why they left.'
'So there are a lot of little ghost towns like that all across the Southwest. Little places that no one knew about and that just disappeared. I was thinking maybe there's a trail of them. A trail of them across the country, lading all the way back to, I don't know, Roanoke.' 'Now you're stretching.'
'Am I? We've got a vampire here that's who-knowshowmany-centuries old.
He's had to feed off something all those hundreds of years. You don't think it's reasonable to assume that he's been traveling around? You think he's been in Rio Verde all this time?'
'All those years.' Robert sighed. 'Intimidating, isn't it?'
'No kidding.' 'Maybe he's not that old. Maybe he was only made recently.'
'Then where's the vampire who made him?' Rich stared out the window.
'Either wgy, there's an old one out there.'
'So you think it's a vampire now, too?'
Rich shrugged. 'I guess I do. You know, I was talking to Sue Wing, and she told me about Chinese vampires. Cup hugirngsis, they call them.'
'Cup-who-girng-sees? How do you spell that?'
'I don't know. But, according to the Chinese, vampires aren't afraid of garlic, they're afraid of willow. You keep them away with jade, not crosses.'
'I was thinking of having my men wear crogses, just in case.'
'Maybe you should have them wear jade, too. It can't hurt.'
'How many different vampire legends are there?' 'Who knows? I told Sue to write a feature about vampires, tell people how they can protect themselves according to the English, the Chinese, whatever other U!tU(gS she can dig up.'
'A vampire story in the paper?'
'It's a feature. It'll be presented like an interesting discussion of foreign customs and beliefs--but I bet there
