She bit the bottom of her lip, her expression uncertain, then made her decision and picked up the phone. "James, there are some investigators from the vampire council here who wish to speak to you about Ms. Summer."
"Another bloody complaint, no doubt," he replied, voice clearly audible even from where I stood. As was his annoyance. "Send them in."
The woman hung up and motioned to the vibrant yellow door at the far end of the desk. "Through there, green door on your left."
"Thanks."
We followed her directions, and a balding, middle-aged man rose from his chair and gave a welcoming—if somewhat tense—smile. "James Parred, at your service."
I shook his offered hand. "Annie Logan and Bear Brown," I said, grabbing at the first names that came to mind.
He glanced at Azriel, amusement briefly touching his lips. "Bear?"
"It is more a nickname," Azriel replied, giving me a "must-you?" sort of look.
"Well, it's certainly appropriate, if you don't mind me saying." He waved a hand toward the seats, then sat back down himself. "What do you wish to know about Ms. Summer?"
"We went to Hallowed Ground to talk to her this afternoon, but she disappeared—"
"Yeah, damn annoying, that was," he cut in. "She did me out of a booking fee and annoyed a good customer."
"Have you been in contact with her? Do you know why she ran?"
He shook his head. "I tried calling her, but she's not answering her phone."
"And have you had any problems like this with her before?"
"Like this? No."