who claimed to be a friend.
“What about other clients, friends? Where she lived? Can you tell me anything about her day to day life?”
“She dated somebody. For real, not a job thing, but I don’t know who. She didn’t talk much about herself. Never about clients.”
A lover. “What did she say about this person?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Nothing definite. More casual comments like, it was nice to have someone to do things with. I never asked for details because…well, I didn’t think it was any of my business. Being sort of a client and all. I think they had an apartment together in Olde Town, somewhere near the park. I walked her part-way one night.” He looked at Ari. “Anything else I can do?”
“Any personal information you can remember might help us. Even little things. If we can locate her home or her lover, that might help us identify the killer.”
He stared at the floor, as if searching his memory. “She enjoyed art. We used to visit the college art museum once in a while. She liked the modern stuff. Oh, yeah, she grew up in Tennessee. I remember because my brother lives there, and we talked about whether Graceland was worth seeing.” He lifted his head and frowned at Ari. “Pitiful, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“How little I know. Seems like I should know a lot more about someone I considered a friend.” He emptied the bottle and set it down.
Ari left him contemplating life as seen through an empty beer bottle. She figured bottle number two was in his near future. Collegiate therapy.
He’d given her the first new piece of personal data and the potential link with the other cases. Now they had a lover to find. Someone knew Vanessa was missing but hadn’t come forward. Was he not worried yet, or hiding his guilt?
Ari called Ryan. No one else had done any better. Several clients had alibis; almost as many did not; others had simply not been at home to interview. Between Ari, Ryan, and his officers they’d covered most of the list. He’d have someone on the second shift follow up on those not at home.
Ryan echoed Ari’s concern about the boyfriend not reporting Vanessa’s absence.
“Could be an innocent reason, I suppose. Out of town, or married. Or maybe they had a fight. We could still get a call. Did Andreas have any luck finding her home?”
“Didn’t hear. I thought he’d called you,” Ryan said.
“Uh, no.”
“Don’t tell me,” he groaned. “You guys are on the outs again? I wish you’d make up your mind.”
“And you can mind your own business, partner.” Her words weren’t heated, more defensive, but she instantly regretted them. None of this was Ryan’s fault, and he had every right to complain if something affected the investigation. “Sorry. Guess I’m feeling bitchy.”
“And you don’t want to talk about it. Am I right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Let me know if he becomes a problem. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks. But it isn’t like that. It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always,” Ryan muttered obscurely. “He must not have found her residence, or he would have left one of us a message. Got any other ideas?”
“I have one more source I can tap. You remember Rita, my vamp informant? I’ll track her down this evening.”
* * *
Rita had been an eighteen-year-old runaway from Minnesota. She’d gotten off the bus in Riverdale, bummed around the streets for thirteen months, and one night met a handsome stranger in a bar. Only hours later, she was staggering from blood loss, out of her mind with hungers she didn’t understand, and perpetually nineteen years old. That’s when Ari found her abandoned in an alley almost two years ago. Last fall, Ari had saved her boyfriend Gordon from an ugly death at the hands of a group of werewolves. Both were good reasons Rita would help if she could. That didn’t mean getting information from her would be easy. Rita had an attitude.
Ari had never failed to locate Rita at Maurie’s Bar, a little dive on State Street, and her luck held today. The bartender didn’t like having Ari around, but he recognized her by now, and once his customers got used to periodic visits from an Otherworld cop, they stopped disappearing every time she walked in the door. He gave her his usual scowl, poured a glass of seltzer and pushed it across the counter. Ari laid down a five, and he nodded toward the far corner.
Rita was playing pinball. A reluctant grin crept across Ari’s face. If anyone