“Hate crime?”
“Well, won't the relatives be offended, on, well religious grounds, Carl?”
I gotta admit that would never have occurred to me.
I would have just been very, very angry, religion aside.
“So, what do I hold him on, then?”
“Uh, well, a serious misdemeanor, I guess,” he said, “at least for now.”
At least for now. What did he think, that Toby was going to commit some more serious crime while he was in jail? A serious misdemeanor would keep him just long enough to do the paperwork, if we were lucky.
“It's gonna have to do,” I said. And if the bond were typically reduced to ten percent of the fine, he was going to walk on a fifty-dollar deposit. Great.
I got back to Hester, who was baby-sitting Toby in my office. No real point in beginning the process that would book him into jail, at least not if he was still talking, and there wasn't a really good reason to distract him with a lot of jail-related questions.
“How we comin' for an attorney for him?” I asked.
“Attorney Junkel called,” said Hester. “He's on his way down. Wanted to know what he was being charged with.”
“And?”
“I told him the charges were still being determined.” She looked at Toby, who was listening closely. “He told Toby not to talk about the case with us until he got here.”
Expected, as any good attorney would say that. Toby, unfortunately, simply had to talk, and about anything that came into his head, I guess. Talk, talk, talk. And bouncing his feet. Still handcuffed, he looked pretty disheveled, because his hair was falling down over one eye, and he couldn't reach out and push it back. Consequently, he kept tossing his head, to clear his field of vision. I was thinking in terms of crystal meth or ecstasy. I didn't want to ask him, though, because it might lead to a charge, which his attorney would use to discount what he'd said.
“Nothing can be done, anyway,” said Toby.
When you deal with someone who is wired like that, you talk to them. If you don't at least provide some input from an outside source, they get angry, and sometimes violent. It's not difficult to talk with them, though, because they will chat about virtually anything you toss their way.
“I'm not so certain about that,” I said. “Frequently… ”
I'd started him off on another tangent, and he interrupted.
“A lot you know. There's this physics thing called the Uncertainty Principle, you know, and it says that nobody can know anything for certain. Ever. Nope, they can't, and it's been scientifically proven, too.”
My, he was wired. “You mean Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle,” I asked, offhandedly as I was wondering what to do when Attorney Junkel arrived.
“Ooooh, you can read,” he said.
“I think Uncle Werner was referring to subatomic particles that can be influenced by the impact of a photon,” I said. “Not whether or not your bank account balanced.”
“Uncle? He was your uncle?” There was wonder in his voice. It was apparently easier for him to believe I was related to the famous physicist than for him to believe I had read anything concerning the man. Helped along, no doubt, by the fact he was stoned.
“Figure of speech, Toby,” I said. “Just a figure of speech.” I kept a straight face, but it wasn't easy.
“My bank account never balances,” he pronounced with great dignity, “because I don't have one.” He began to giggle. “But I had one once, and I couldn't keep it balanced on the end of my nose to save my ass!” He broke himself up with that one.
While our captive entertained himself, I told Hester about my conversation with the county attorney.
“I figured as much,” she said. “Shit.”
“Oooh, lady,” came from Toby. “The 'S' word.”
“Go balance your checkbook, Toby,” she said. That got him laughing quietly to himself, and he left us alone for the moment.
“Do we want the county attorney here for Junkel? On the off chance that he might let us interview Toby in his presence?”
She shook her head. “Not at this point.”
Toby started to sing in a thin voice, using what he evidently thought was an English accent.
“D'ye ken Dan Peale with his teeth so white?
He sleeps in the day and comes out at night,
His unearthly powers give the mortals a fright
Till he goes back to his coffin in the morning.”
Hester and I looked at each other. He sang it again, in a quavering voice, keeping time with his foot.
“D'ye ken Dan Peale with his teeth so white?
He sleeps in the day and comes out at night,
His unearthly powers give the mortals a fright
Till he goes back to his coffin in the morning.”
He stopped, and looked at us. “He's gonna kill me, 'cause I failed him twice, and you don't get a third chance. Not from old Dan Peale.” His eyes darted about the room. “In the crypt, he told me to kill her, and I couldn't. He told me to keep her dead, and I couldn't do it right. He's going to kill me now, 'cause I failed him.” He spoke in a calm, steady voice. “Plonk, plonk, plonk,” he said. Just like that first night in the woods.
“He was born in 1604 in London fucking England, and he never, never dies.”
It was creepy.
I glanced at Hester, and mouthed “Crypt?”
She nodded.
“It's all right, Toby. Don't worry,” said Hester. “Wait till your attorney gets here. Quietly.” Her tape was obviously still running.
“Not my attorney. Their attorney,” he said, suddenly getting petulant on us. “He'll save me, all right, but he'll just be saving me for them.” He looked beseechingly at Hester. “Don't let 'em kill me, lady. Please?”
“Now you're putting me on,” I said. “Just wait for Mr. Junkel.”
“Don't I wish I was.”
“Yeah. Hey, why'd you run on us the other night? Just curious, no charge or anything.” I really was interested in why, and there wasn't anything that an attorney could glom onto with that question.
He tittered. “Well, I forgot to lock the fuckin' door, didn't I?”
“Yeah, you're just not fast enough,” I said. “But why'd you run?”
He positively giggled. “Toby wins,” he got out. “Yes!”
I tried another tack. “And who's this 'they' you keep referring to?” I tried to keep it matter-of-fact, but there was a tinge of anticipation in my voice, I'm afraid. It was a justifiable question, though, even in the light of Miranda. Our knowing who was going to “kill” Toby was in his own interest.
He regarded me for a moment, suddenly quite calm. Sober, in a way.
“Vampires all over the world,” he said. “That's who 'they' are.”
He was lying again.
“I mean the 'they' you were just talking about,” I said. “The ones represented by Junkel.” And we all knew who at least one of those clients would be. I really expected him to say “Jessica Hunley.” Of course, that would have been a truthful statement, and I should have known better.
“Corporate America,” he said, looking me right in the eye.
“Can't help you unless you play it straight,” I said. Hoping against hope that he'd tell.
He suddenly cocked his head, squinted, and then began to breathe more rapidly. The dope again.
“You're the one,” he said, to me. “You're the reason. I heard you say that Edie was telling on us. You said so. So I had to make sure she stayed dead.”
I was taken aback for a second, both by the accusation and the sudden mood swing, until I remembered that I had said something about Edie, and speaking to us. Holy shit. I'd meant at the autopsy.
Before I could say anything, he said, “I fucked that up, too. You're supposed to stake 'em through the heart,
