01 Rock 'n' Roll is Undead - Veronica Mason Read online

  “Four weeks? Less than five.” Okay, I’d never been on the receiving end of a stare that severe and Frank wasn’t helping matters. Any other time I couldn’t get him to shut up. Now it was as if someone had stuffed one of his white crew socks into his mouth.

  “How’d you meet him?” He scribbled on the paper again.

  “We had a kind of an audition.” I traced the little scratch on the tabletop, avoiding his glare.

  “So you don’t know much about him, then? You didn’t know him before this audition?”

  “I guess not, no.” I shrugged. At least he wasn’t still glaring at me.

  I spoke too soon. He looked up, fixing his dark eyes on me. I bet he could stare a hole right through someone. “Know anyone who’d want him dead?”

  “Heck, like I said, I didn’t know him well. The answer to your question is no.”

  Stress broke me and I forgot my manners. I’d better watch my tongue, or he’d have me handcuffed and stuffed in the back of his car before I could say cuff ’em and stuff ’em. Plus, this big guy had fangs. Long, shiny ones; my neck tensed thinking about them.

  “Yeah, I got that.” He focused his narrowed eyes on me, taking in the full length of my appearance yet again, making me shift in my seat. The room was definitely hotter than a few seconds ago.

  “What can you tell me about him other than he played bass?”

  “He was a quiet guy. Um, he was from Florida and came to Memphis to make a go of music. You know, like the rest of us. No family here, other than his wife.” As the words left my lips, I realized my voice was little more than a whisper.

  He jotted down as I spoke.

  Frank cut in. “So it wasn’t a random robbery or something? Is that what you’re saying? I mean, you’d have to know he was a vampire.”

  He had a point. When did anyone try to rob a vampire? Never. Humans really did try to distance themselves from the paranormal world as much as possible. Sure, humans gave blood, but that’s just because they liked the payday, although, the fake stuff was the ‘in’ thing to do—very trendy.

  “I’m not saying anything, just getting the facts. What’s your name?” He pointed with his pen toward Frank who’d gone virtually unnoticed until then.

  “Frank Perry,” his voice wavered.

  “Where you from Frank?”

  “Memphis.” Frank studied his shiny black shoes.

  “When were you turned?”

  “1957. I was twenty-nine.” Frank finally met the detective’s gaze.

  Detective Walker tilted his head. “And you’re Veronica Mason. I’ve heard about you.”

  “You have?” My voice went up to a normal level.

  “Yes, I’ve seen your name around town.”

  Not sure I liked the idea of that. Under normal circumstances, it would have been great, but now…not so much.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” I blurted out.

  Chapter 6

  Having the police know your name couldn’t be a good thing. Paranormal or regular cops, it didn’t matter.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Quite a voice from what I hear.”

  My cheeks probably turned three shades darker than my red lips. “Oh. Well, thanks.”

  Frank rolled his eyes.

  “So you didn’t hear any noise?” Detective Walker asked. “There must have been some sound.”

  Did the look on his face say suspicion? It seemed to be getting hotter in the room by the second.

  “No, I had headphones on after the show,” I said. Plus there was the bar-room brawl, but I didn’t add that little tidbit.

  He frowned and looked at Frank.

  “I was in the front of the bar.” Frank gestured toward the front. “Music was playing, so I guess it blocked it out.” He shrugged. “Then I came to check on Veronica.”

  The detective’s grimace deepened. “We’ll need you both to make a statement and sign it. Another officer will be in to see you in a minute.” He stuffed the notepad in his shirt pocket and turned on his heel.

  Just dandy.

  The detective left us alone—alone with a million thoughts racing through my head. I’d never seen a dead body, much less a dead vampire. Well, I’d seen dead bodies at funerals, but that didn’t count. They just looked as if they were sleeping. Johnny didn’t look as if he were sleeping; he looked like a barbeque pit.

  “What do you think happened?” I whispered when Detective Walker had exited and the door clicked shut behind him. “Do you think someone robbed him? Was he into drugs?”

  “You don’t have to whisper, Veronica, he’s gone.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe he’s listening at the door.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re being paranoid.”

  “Aren’t you a little concerned with what happened here tonight? Johnny was murdered. It takes a lot of nerve to kill someone. Big you know whats,” I whispered, “to stake a vampire. At a freakin’ vampire bar.”

  Frank laughed. “Veronica, I can’t believe you. You sing in a band at some of the shadiest dives around. You’re surrounded by vampires and werewolves and probably some creatures you don’t even know exist. You’re a witch, although I use that term loosely, and your best friend is a werewolf, yet you can’t say ‘balls’ out loud.”

  “I can say it. I’m just being polite, that’s all.”

  “No need to be polite around me, you know that.”

  “Yes, I’m fully aware. I’m hoping a little of my politeness will rub off on you. Anyway, I can say it out loud.”

  “Okay, say it.” He folded his arms in front of his chest.

  “Fine. Balls. I’ll go one further and say nuts. How about cojones? Nads? You happy? If you don’t stop messing with me, I’ll put yours in a vice.”

  “Really, Veronica, I had no idea you were so vulgar.”

  I glared at him. “Quit jerking around. I’m serious. Aren’t you afraid for your safety? You heard what Charlie said about another vampire being staked last month.”

  “I’m aware and I’m not afraid.”

  “It’s your life.” I shrugged.

  After an hour of retelling the story to the police officer taking our statements, he finally allowed us to leave. Although, at one point, I thought Frank may be arrested for making too many doughnut references.

  “You want me to drive you home?” Frank stood in front of me. “At least let me move your car around front, so you don’t have to, you know, go through the crime scene again.”

  Before I answered, the door burst open. “Oh, my sweet cartwheelin’ Jesus, I came as soon as I heard.”

  “Well if it isn’t Kitty Lauren.” Frank snorted. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have cat litter to play in?”

  “Frank! That’s not very nice,” I said.

  “Oh, go pick your fangs with your pocket knife,” Kitty snapped. Her eyes instantly took on a glowing golden hue as she fixed her stare at him. Just what I needed, a werewolf and a vampire fighting. Normally, I wouldn’t give a grasshopper’s hind leg what they said to each other, but right now, I didn’t need it.

  “Transylvania called. They miss you. They want you to come home.” She stretched her lips into a fake smile.

  “I get it.” Frank chuckled and slapped his leg. “Vampires. Transylvania.” He hissed, exposing his fangs.

  A low growl escaped Kitty’s lips.

  “Enough. Children! Children! Knock it off, or I’ll put a hex on both of you.”

  They laughed in unison.

  “Fine. But I know people who can perform a hex very well, you know. Just because I can’t do it, doesn’t mean I don’t know other witches with phenomenal witchcraft skills.”

  They ignored my threat. Kitty slipped across the floor and plopped down on the loveseat next to me. “I’m her best friend, you moron, of course I’ll show up when she has a traumatic experience.”

  “I told you, Veronica, if you run with dogs you’re gonna get fleas,” Frank said.

  It was all I could do to hold Kitty
back. I held her arm, which was like holding a steel bar. “Kitty, please, if you don’t want your daddy to come drag you away from here, stop. He’s looking for a reason for you not to associate with vamps. Don’t give him one.”

  She growled again, but her muscles relaxed slightly.

  I changed the subject. “Kitty, how the heck did you get in here, anyway?” I asked before Frank hurled another insult her way.

  “Oh, hell, it wasn’t easy. Charlie spotted me and got the police to let me in.”

  “How’d you find out so quickly?” A whiff of her grape bubble gum hit my nostrils.

  “Sweetie, it’s on the news already. There’s no way you’re getting out of here without those vultures with microphones attacking you.”

  “The news? Already?” I leaned my head back on the loveseat.

  “Uh huh.”

  Kitty’s titian colored hair fell in waves along her shoulders. She wore white shorts—the style you’d see on a pinup model—and a navy and white halter. Her wedge heels made her several inches taller than me. My four-inch heels only made me five foot six. My brother hadn’t called me Little Bit for nothing. Kitty wasn’t the pin-up of the Fifties, though. Like me, she had tattoos. Lots of them—her arms, legs, chest and back were covered.

  I stood. “Okay, let’s do this. I want out of here. I can’t handle this small space any longer.” Nor the two of them bickering. Soon Frank would start the insults again and Kitty would sprout fur.

  Kitty put her arm around me and escorted me out the door. She gave Frank a sharp look on the way out. “I can handle it from here, Count Chocula.”

  Okay, Kitty wasn’t without her name-calling, either. I steered the conversation away from her remark.

  “Wait.” I stopped. “What about the instruments in the van?”

  “I’ll hang around until I can get them.” Frank smiled, then gave Kitty a mocking smirk.

  “Thanks, Frank.” His advances got old, but I’d always been able to rely on him.

  Kitty pulled my arm before Frank uttered another word. We walked through the now empty club, a few employees stood by the bar. Their conversation became a whisper when they saw us.

  “I’ll get your car.” Frank walked ahead.

  Kitty frowned at me. “I can’t believe you let him drive your car. He’s so mean he has to keep one eye open to keep from stealing from one pocket and putting it in the other.”

  “He won’t steal my car. He’s dumb, but not that dumb. I know why Frank annoys me. He repeatedly makes stupid sexist comments and advances. But why don’t you like him, Kitty? Is it just a werewolf versus vampire thing?”

  “You’re watching too many movies. No, I don’t like him because he always has that stupid grin on his face. He’s one of those smiley types. You know the kind who always look as if they’re smiling? He probably smiles during sex and when he’s sleeping, too. I don’t trust those kinds. They give me the creeps.”

  “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you? Do you trust anyone, though?”

  “I trust my Mama…and you. Oh, and maybe Carrie Underwood.”

  “Huh?” I scrunched my brow.

  She shrugged. “I like her songs.”

  “You’re a little weird, you know that?”

  “I never claimed not to be. Anyway, about Frank…I. Don’t. Trust. Him. And just think, he has children! That’s one genetic pool I wouldn’t want to dive into.”

  “You’ve got a point about that one. Anyway, don’t listen to Frank’s drivel. Ignore him. I’ve learned to tune him out. Besides, I’m not so concerned about what he does or doesn’t do right now. All I’m concerned with is I don’t want to go back there where the body is again.” I shivered at the thought.

  She nodded. “I guess I wouldn’t want to either. But I swear if he weren’t already dead, I’d kill him.”

  “Shhh. Don’t say that.” I looked around. “Because obviously, as we can see, there are ways to eliminate vampires.”

  “You know, vampires are so connected, you’d think they’d know right away who did this. I think vampires have some sort of secret hand signal, too. Like the guys on the motorcycles,” Kitty said.

  “Um, yeah, you’re probably right.” I rolled my eyes and chuckled.

  “We should have one of those. A secret hand signal for best friends,” Kitty said.

  “Yeah, sure, we should do that someday.” The things she comes up with sometimes.

  Craig ambled out from around the side of the stage with a somber look covering his face and joined us. He didn’t utter a word. Not sure where he’d been all this time, but I didn’t ask. We made our way from inside the bar out into the beautiful summer night air—a picturesque evening turned murderous. Cars had cleared the lot, but plenty stayed behind to watch the scene. We moved toward the Bel-Air as Frank pulled it into the front space.

  He held the door open for me. “Your chariot awaits.” He bowed.

  “Thanks, Frank. I still can’t believe this happened.” I stole a glance over my shoulder at the chaotic scene. “My mind can’t even wrap around what I saw.”

  “You’re probably in shock. Don’t worry, we’ll find someone to replace him.” I didn’t bother arguing that I didn’t care at the moment if we ever found a replacement. It wasn’t what I’d meant. I was creeped out and it wasn’t the bass worrying me. Frank placed his arms around me, squeezing just a tad too long. I eased from his grip, then Craig held me in a short embrace.

  “You want me to go back to your place? To comfort you?” Frank asked.

  “You know when that’ll happen, right?” I stared at him.

  “No. When?”

  “When the band plays who’d a thunk it.”

  “What? What band?”

  “Oh, never mind. Call if there are any problems,” I said and waved.

  Frank and Craig waved and nodded as they walked away toward the bar.

  I averted my gaze from the crime scene. I couldn’t look in that direction and I wasn’t sure I could ever play at this bar again. Poor Johnny. He’d certainly found himself on the wrong end of a wooden stake. Kitty stood beside the Bel-Air and I jumped behind the wheel. The leather released a swoosh when I sat.

  Now that the thunderstorm had passed, the tree branches didn’t sway, even the crickets were silent. My uneasiness amplified as the stillness grew. Until the commotion began…it caught my attention and I looked up.

  Chapter 7

  Reporters descended on the area, marching across the lot as if on a mission—troops storming the battlefield. They had the heavy artillery—cameras, reporters, tape recorders, pads of paper with pens drawn.

  “The paparazzi are here,” Kitty snapped.

  “I see that,” I said, then took a deep breath, preparing for the barrage of questions.

  “And your lipstick is smudged.” Kitty frowned.

  “I just discovered a staked vampire, cut me some slack.”

  “Quick, before they come over here, maybe we need to give you a bad ass nickname. People won’t mess with you, you know? Since you’ve discovered a staked vampire, now you could totally have a badass reputation.”

  “You think?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah, totally.” She nodded.

  “But do I really want to be badass?”

  “Of course you do. Like all those other girl bands.”

  “Yeah, ’cause The Pussycat Dolls are really badass.”

  She smirked. “No, I meant like Joan Jett or something.”

  “Nah. I think I’ll remain non-bad-ass.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “Ms. Mason can you give us any details?” The blonde reporter yelled.

  Her bright red suit matched her lips. She frowned, waiting for an answer. Obviously, she took her job seriously—her scowl did not budge. I looked to Kitty and she shrugged. How the hell did the reporter get my name so quickly?

  “I’m not sure what I should say.” Kitty ignored my pleading glance.

  “You di
scovered the remains of your bass player?” She pressed.

  Kitty smiled and played with her hair, twisting a strand around her finger as she positioned herself in front of the cameraman.

  “I don’t think I should comment. Maybe you should talk to the police first.” I looked around for help. Kitty was getting in her fifteen minutes of fame, so assistance from her was out of the question. Heck, I’d even welcome Frank at the moment. He could say something stupid as a distraction.

  “It was Johnny Davis and he was her bass player,” Kitty blurted out.

  I wanted to throw my shoe at her, but refrained. The last thing I needed was footage of me hurling a high heel at someone on the morning news.

  The reporter hurried over, deeming me not newsworthy, and stuck the microphone in front of Kitty’s mouth. By the smile spread across Kitty’s face, she didn’t seem to mind.

  “Were you there when the vampire was found?” the reporter probed.

  “Kitty, zip it,” I mouthed. “No comment,” I said to the reporter. “It’s not the Oprah show,” I whispered. “Just the local news.”

  Kitty rolled her eyes and didn’t appease me with a comment in return.

  I was not particularly fond of the idea of my face plastered all over the front page of the newspaper. Well, unless it was with praise for a gig or something. Although they say there’s no such thing as bad publicity, I didn’t want to find out.

  Luckily, a couple officers discovered the intrusion and banished the reporters to the other side of the crime tape. They stood watch, though, as if we were monkeys on display at the zoo.

  I looked over to my best friend of the past ten years. Her cheeks were flushed. “Thanks for helping me out there.”

  “Sorry, I got a little excited.” She rubbed her face.

  “A little?”

  “Let’s get out of here. Don’t you want me to drive? You’ve been through a lot tonight,” Kitty said.

  I raised an eyebrow and stared.

  “What? You just let Frank drive it.” She placed her hand on her hip.

  “Just around here,” I said.

  “Not even a traumatic event can get you to let someone else drive this car, huh?” She patted the fender.