can we do to help?”
“Well, for starters,” I said, “why didn't you let us know that Peel was up on the third floor?” I was really eager to see who was going to field that one.
“We didn't know he was there,” said Kevin, “and I don't think it's fair you should assume that we did.” “But you knew he and Edie were meeting up there sometimes, didn't you?” asked Hester.
“Sometimes, maybe,” he said, and made his first mistake. He was looking squarely at Hester, in order to appear sincere, and missed the look he got from Huck, which would have told him to let her speak. As it was, all Huck had gotten out was “Wuh-” before being cut off.
I spoke very quickly. “Sometimes in her room, sometimes the third floor, then?”
“Usually her room,” he said. “That's why we had no reason to suspect him to be on the third.”
I smiled at Huck. Just to let her know that I knew, too.
“But sometimes on the third floor?”
“Sure,” he said, just as Huck interjected, “We really don't know.”
“Anywhere else?” I asked.
This time it was only Huck, who said, “Now, wait. We don't really know those things. We're guessing,” and she shot Kevin a glance.
“Is there a reason,” I asked, “why you aren't letting Kevin speak for himself?”
“I am speaking for myself,” said Kevin. A little too quickly. And, again nearly simultaneously, Huck said, “I am letting him speak.”
I held up my hand. “Just a second. Whoa. One at a time.”
They exchanged irritated looks.
“Let's start again. Why don't you guys just listen up for a second, here, and I'll tell you some of what we know, and then ask some questions.”
They were quiet; I'll give them that.
“We've already established your knowledge of Peel.” That had been pure luck. There had always been the chance that Toby had tried to cover by giving us a wrong name. “We've already established your knowledge of a relationship between Peel and Edie.” I looked at the three of them. “We've already established that you knew that he was sometimes on the third floor.” I gave them a second to digest that. “I want to remind you that this is a murder investigation, and if you start to try to backpedal now, you may give the impression of complicity.”
Kevin proceeded, smoothly, to make his second mistake. “Let me remind you,” he said, “that you have neglected to advise us of our Constitutional rights.”
I looked at Hester. It had to be her. She nodded, and looked coldly at Kevin.
“A Miranda advisory,” she said, evenly, “is triggered by a custodial interrogation.” She didn't blink. “That's two complete and separate elements. Custody. Interrogation. This, right now,” she explained, “is a noncustodial interview. So, I'd suggest you lose the smart-ass attitude and pay close attention.”
I watched Huck and Melissa's reaction very carefully. They were why Hester had to be the one to put Kevin in his place. So far, it looked like they were getting the hint.
Kevin took the bait.
“Don't condescend to me,” he said. “I'm no fool.”
Hester made a little tent of her fingers, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair. “Want a second to consider the fact you're the only one in the room who had to say that?” she asked.
Huck jumped in and rescued him. That was fine. The fact that she had to do so wasn't lost on anybody. “Wait,” she said. “Like you said a second ago, let's just sort of start over, okay?”
“Sure,” I said. I was becoming fascinated, watching Kevin try to stare Hester down. I reached across the coffee table, and tapped him on the knee. He flinched, and looked at me.
“In all sincerity, I think you're not quite understanding what's going on here. Someone has been killed, and we're trying to get to the bottom of it. Someone you knew pretty well. Possibly while you were here. That's pretty weighty stuff.” I leaned back. “This isn't a game.”
“I'm not playing games,” said Kevin.
“Then it strikes me, Kevin,” said Hester, “that you're being very nonchalant about the death of someone who lived in the same house with you.”
“I'm sorry to have upset you,” said Kevin blandly.
“We're not upset,” I said, making some notes on my pad, “so much as we're curious about a lack of reaction.”
“I,” he announced, “happen to be a Nihilist.” Although his facial expression didn't change, he sneered with his voice. “That's N-I-H-I–L-I-S-T, Deputy,” he said, watching me write. “It means that I believe that there's no purpose in existence.”
“I know,” I said, not looking up. “We used to say it was a predictable result of an egocentric confronting reality.” I looked up, with the most pleasant expression I could muster. “Sittin' round the doughnut shop, we talk about that sorta thing a lot.”
Before he could answer, I said, “Look, you guys are the ones we have to talk to, because you're the ones who might have some information. There really isn't anybody else. We can keep this on a fairly friendly basis, if we work at it. But you do have information we need. You may not know what you have,” I said, “but there could well be things you've noticed and don't realize they're significant.” That was pretty standard, and I wasn't so sure that they didn't know what they had, but it did serve the purpose of giving them an out, if they suddenly wanted to “remember” something. Or, in the particular case of Kevin, gracefully retract a lie.
“Edie,” said Kevin, “is the one who knew, if anybody did. Too bad she's not available.”
He said it straight, but he meant it sarcastically.
“Edie's been talking quite a bit to the pathologist,” I said.
Just as I said it, Toby came through the dining room door, his jaw dropped, and he said, “What?”
“Hi, Toby,” said Hester. “Have a seat.”
“Oh, yeah. Right, right.”
He looked really fresh, and it looked like they'd been telling the truth about his being in the shower when we'd arrived.
“We're just discussing what we all know about Mr. Peel,” said Hester.
“Oh,” said Toby. “Not much,” and he looked meaningfully around the room, “do we?” It was hard to tell if it was a question, or a really broad hint.
“Well,” I said, “we know what he looks like. We know his name.” I figured it was time to jump in with both feet. “You told us he was a vampire… So, where does that leave you?”
For a few seconds it got so quiet you not only could have heard a pin drop, I swear you could have heard it whistle as it fell.
Melissa broke the silence by speaking for the first time. “He is,” she said. Straight up, matter-of-fact, with no inflection. “We all know that, too.”
She'd said, “He is,” without hesitation. Nobody else qualified it by saying “He thinks he is.” Just the silence of agreement and acceptance.
“Why do you think,” she said, still with no emotion, “we call this Renfield House?” “Wasn't that the vampire's slave in Dracula?” asked Hester. “Renffeld?”
Melissa nodded. “Of course.”
I still didn't quite realize what I was dealing with. “You're saying that he is a vampire. You don't really believe that, do you? Don't you mean that he believes that he's a vampire?”
“No,” said Melissa. “He is a vampire. That's all there is to it.” I glanced around the room. There sure didn't seem to be any visible dissent.
“Now, really,” I said. “Come on. This isn't Transylvania. Hell, it's not even Los Angeles. There's no such thing as vampires.”
She shrugged. “You're entitled to your beliefs. So are we.” She gave me a secretive little smile. “We know. That's enough for us.”
I don't know that I was exactly surprised that somebody other than Toby would be capable of being conned into seriously believing in vampires, so much as I was just beginning to appreciate the ramifications for our case.
