. bouillon, or hot oil—I can make whatever you prefer.”
I figured that the best thing I could do for Sheldon right now was to start nosing around. “Thank you, but I’ve got a lot of cases to work on—including yours. I’ve got investigating to do.” And a 3:00 appointment at the embalmer.
He looked crestfallen. “Of course. I should have realized. Everyone’s so busy these days. I started a bridge club for my neighbor vampires, but it was difficult to keep them coming back. I guess they just weren’t that interested in cards. My next idea was a book club to discuss the latest best sellers, but that didn’t go well either. Maybe I should have chosen more literary books?” He let out a wistful sigh. “We had a dinner club, and I even tried to arrange ballroom dancing lessons for everyone. And outings! Did you know that groups can charter a leather-upholstered hearse for a guided tour of the Quarter? Tinted windows, of course. I thought that would be so much fun! But nobody showed up.”
“You did all this for your neighbors?” I began to have my doubts.
“Someone had to act as the vampires’ social director. Otherwise they’d get lonely.”
I asked carefully, “And when did these other vampires begin disappearing?”
“Right after our first book club discussion. Another friend vanished before the next bridge night. Then, when I suggested a French-themed potluck, nobody came over at all! That got me so scared that I went out to each person’s apartment—and no one was home. Some apartments were entirely empty. It’s not natural, I tell you!”
“And how often did you have these get-togethers?”
“Not as often as I’d have liked, but I tried.” His eyes were large. “Only four or five nights a week, but I was open to suggestions. And now my friends are all dead!” He moaned. “I should have done more.”
I tried to reassure him. “When I come back to do the stakeout, I’ll check with the landlord, try to get a look at the empty apartments.” I glanced at my watch. “Don’t worry, Sheldon. I’ll get to the bottom of this, and you’ll be able to sleep easy all day long.”
The sharpened stakes and mallets on his doorstep were a definite sign of mischief, possibly left by a group of teenage vampires with too much angst for their own good. But there was also the possibility that the missing neighbors had slipped away for their own reasons.
If I did find the answers I suspected, I wasn’t sure Sheldon would want to know.
CHAPTER 6
Though it might not seem a manly sort of place for a private detective to frequent, a beauty salon is a great place to pick up information. I’m not obsessed with fashion. I’ve never had a manicure, certainly not a pedicure. I don’t buy my clothes because of photos I see in Vogue: Undead. I’m not too hard on the eyes, and Sheyenne still gives me that look now and then; I hope she does for a long time to come.
But a lot of basic things change after death, and there’s a difference between looking pretty and simply maintaining yourself. Being “well preserved” takes on a whole new meaning, and it’s a constant battle to stop the onset of decay.
In the month since coming back to life, I’d been getting weekly treatments at Bruno & Heinrich’s Embalming Parlor, the zombie equivalent of a beauty salon. The proprietors—emaciated identical twins—were obsessive stylists who realized they had no talent whatsoever for interacting with warm-blooded human beings, so they became morticians by trade. After the Big Uneasy, Bruno and Heinrich had found their true calling in life.
When I arrived for my 3:00 appointment, Bruno—or maybe it was Heinrich—greeted me with a ghastly smile. “Felicitations, Mr. Chambeaux. I’ll be handling you today.” He rubbed his fingertips together; he wore a fresh coat of matte-black nail polish. “The usual, sir? Or do you have special plans this week? We could do something more radical, more edgy.”
“Just the usual,” I said.
Bruno—yes, it was Bruno, I decided—looked disappointed. “Someday we’ll get you out of your rut, sir. We could all do with a bit more flamboyance.”
“Not all of us,” I said. “Just top off the embalming fluid, check the hair and makeup, cover any discolorations.”
“As you wish, sir.”
When the physical body doesn’t regenerate very well, little bits of daily damage begin to add up. Once you start to slide down that slippery slope, there’s no getting back up again.
I had seen far too many