to get you to come back and sing.”
Her translucent face clouded with anger. “Fletcher, if you help put away the vampire bitch that killed both of us, then I’ll come back and sing every Saturday night for free.”
“I hoped you would say something like that.” The manager led us down the hall behind the stage. “And you did me a good turn, too, Mr. Chambeaux, even though you didn’t mean to.”
“How’s that?”
“Remember Harry Talbot, the blood-bar owner who hired you to shut down my under-the-table blood sales? He’s actually a cool guy. Likes progressive-rock music, same as me. He turned me on to some excellent obscure bands.”
“So you’re not trying to drive each other out of business anymore?” I asked. Talbot had paid his fee to Chambeaux & Deyer and closed the case; I’d never heard anything more from him.
“Just the opposite! We’re in business together, my nightclub, his blood bar. We’re opening up another place or two. There’s certainly a market for it.”
We fell into a hush as we reached the closed door to Ivory’s dressing room. Fletcher turned the knob and the three of us entered. The vamp singer had a small makeup table and a chair, a ring of bright makeup lights, but no mirror (which wouldn’t have done her any good). The table was covered with small jars, brushes, facial primer, foundation, powder, pencils, a rainbow of eye shadows and blushes, and her signature glossy red lipstick. A vase held a dozen long-stemmed red roses. The walls were covered with photographs of Ivory nuzzling famous people.
Her double-wide mahogany coffin rested on a riser on the other side of the room. Ivory had spared no expense: This was the best coffin offered in any funeral parlor catalog, about ten times more expensive than the one Robin had bought for me.
Though the sun had gone down a full hour ago, the big vamp remained in her coffin. Nothing stirred in the dressing room.
Fletcher said in a whisper, “She likes to sleep late. I usually come in here just before dark to help her put on her face. Since she can’t use a mirror, it’s my job to prepare Ivory for her public. It sometimes takes an hour, and I have to tell her a dozen times how beautiful she looks, since she can’t see her reflection.”
“Where’s the gun?” I asked.
Fletcher slid open one of the vanity drawers to reveal a Smith & Wesson revolver, a big gleaming thing that could have been in a vampire’s collection since the Civil War. Ballistics would prove whether or not this was the gun that had shot me, but it was too much of a coincidence to swallow.
Sheyenne nudged the makeup jars and bottles. “And if I find a vial of toadstool poison, that would be the cherry on top of the sundae.”
Hearing the unmistakable sound of a creaking coffin lid, the three of us turned like startled rabbits facing the same rattlesnake. The big-breasted vampire extended her hands into the air, stretching, then sat up, yawning and rubbing the fuzz of sleep from her eyes.
When she saw us standing there, she recoiled as if she were the rabbit and we the rattlesnakes. “What are you all doing here? This is my private dressing room. Get out!” She quickly covered her face. “You can’t see me like this!”
Ivory did look a lot different without her makeup. She turned her gaze on the manager. Vampires are able to manipulate people with a seductive hypnotic glamour, but what she gave Fletcher was exactly the opposite. He shivered under the glare.
“We found the gun, Ivory.” I took a step forward to intervene. “What did I ever do to you? What made you upset enough to kill me?”
The vamp looked baffled. “Kill you, sugar? What are you talking about?”
Sheyenne pulled the Smith & Wesson from the drawer. “I’ve always known you poisoned me, and this is the gun that shot Dan, right here in your dressing room. Did you kill him because he was investigating my murder? Were you worried he’d catch you?”
I pulled my own .38 from the shoulder holster. The silver-jacketed slugs would do the trick.
More annoyed than afraid, the vampire diva climbed out, indignant but embarrassed by her fresh-out-of-the-coffin appearance. “I didn’t even have that gun when Dan was murdered, sugar. I just bought it two weeks ago.”
“What do you need a gun for?” I asked.
“For protection! In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the star here, and I’ve got my share of obsessive