placing them in the wastebasket by the door and handed the flower to the vampire.
Kurt examined it as if appraising a diamond for occlusions. “Passable.”
Christ, it was just a flower. Joe grew more and more annoyed by their superior attitude. Taking for granted hours he spent tracking down grand pianos, silk panties and long stemmed red roses. They were very particular. He specified costly designer lines for his simple trousers and cotton shirts. His shoes alone cost a small fortune. She had to have a particular brand of lily-of-the-valley perfume and bath oil from the most expensive shop, not to mention Pima cotton sheets, goose-down comforter and pillows. He’d begun to think of them as a couple of spoiled brats. Luckily Jean had agreed to shop for her, sparing him the agony of those floral-scented, pastel boutiques. But, he reflected, at least they weren’t attacking him.
Kurt handed the rose back. “Don’t forget my letter.” A glimmer of expression passed over his disturbingly youthful face. “Thanks for your trouble, Doctor.”
Joe was taken aback, regarding this sudden change in attitude. “You’re welcome.”
As if reading his thoughts the vampire explained, “You’ve been fair to Mia and me where others haven’t.”
“That’s quite a trick you two have.”
“Not if one’s observant. Try it, Doctor, you may find it useful— particularly when matters of honesty are at stake.”
Joe wondered if there was a hidden meaning in Kurt’s words. “I’ll remember that.”
The vampire smiled, chilling Joe to the core, a disarming, boyish smile that conflicted sharply with the haunted eyes. “Don’t ever give me reason to question yours. Good evening, Doctor.”
What the hell did that mean? Kurt was subtle. Deep currents ran through what little he said. This was no boy but a wary, shrewd old man who’d lived through a hell of a lot, a survivor. Joe didn’t take his eyes off Kurt as he let himself out. Kurt just looked back, appraising him with his sapphire stare.
Damn it, how much did Lydia know about Kurt and Mia? She must know where they came from and why. Where did she find them? Mia might enlighten him, if she’d ever learn to trust him. But why should she? He’d failed in getting her what she wanted most. The only thing he could give her was his letter.
Mia received him coolly when he arrived at her cell, holding out her hand for Kurt’s letter. Instead of ripping it open she held it up, inhaling its smell. Intense relief appeared to flood over her, only then did she tear open the envelope. Sinking down on the bed she took in the contents. Joe craned his neck to see what he could as he set down his equipment. The writing was unrecognizable— symbols not resembling any language he was familiar with. Was it code? He wondered if he could get hold of it and decipher it somehow but moments later she tore it to shreds and took it to the bathroom, flushing it down the toilet. He closed his eyes to capture a picture of the symbols to later jot them down.
Joe had forgotten the flower, reaching down into the bag he came up with the rose. She stopped dead in her tracks as he held it out. “This is for you— from Kurt— it was supposed to go with the letter.”
“Oh— thanks.”
She just took it and set it on the desk, as if it meant nothing. A human woman might have shed a tear or smiled. Whether it struck an emotional chord was anybody’s guess. It bothered Joe that this gesture left her cold or apparently cold after all the care and concern Kurt had shown. Somehow it bothered him more than how she’d attacked Rider.
Joe remained by the door, unsure of how to begin. She studied his face for a moment. “Guess we have a deal, Doctor.”
He took out his notebook and took a seat. “I want you to tell me whatever you can, without embellishment, pertinent information on your behavior, without the sensationalism of your journal.”
She laughed. “Vampire stories have to be sensational or they aren’t much fun. It’s a full-blown Gothic tale with dark corners and mysterious strangers. I’m afraid it’s the only way I know.”
“Be serious, I’m trying to help you.”
“A girl can’t survive in my racket if she’s too serious. My modus operandi is to amuse. Two things at which I’m very accomplished— one is a witty turn of phrase— the other I’ll leave to the imagination. I know you have an active imagination.”