The Laughing Corpse Read Free

ain’t what I heard,” Tommy of the blond hair said.
    I glanced at him. His eyes were still as empty as a doll’s. “I don’t kill people for money.”
    â€œYou kill vampires for money,” he said.
    â€œLegal execution, and I don’t do it for the money,” I said.
    Tommy shook his head and moved away from the wall. “I hear you like staking vampires. And you aren’t too careful about who you have to kill to get to ’em.”
    â€œMy informants tell me you have killed humans before, Ms. Blake,” Gaynor said.
    â€œOnly in self-defense, Gaynor. I don’t do murder.”
    Bert was standing now. “I think it is time to leave.”
    Bruno stood in one fluid movement, big dark hands loose and half-cupped at his sides. I was betting on some kind of martial arts.
    Tommy was standing away from the wall. His sport jacket was pushedback to expose his gun, like an old-time gunfighter. It was a .357 Magnum. It would make a very big hole.
    I just stood there, staring at them. What else could I do? I might be able to do something with Bruno, but Tommy had a gun. I didn’t. It sort of ended the argument.
    They were treating me like I was a very dangerous person. At five-three I am not imposing. Raise the dead, kill a few vampires, and people start considering you one of the monsters. Sometimes it hurt. But now . . . it had possibilities. “Do you really think I came in here unarmed?” I asked. My voice sounded very matter-of-fact.
    Bruno looked at Tommy. He sort of shrugged. “I didn’t pat her down.”
    Bruno snorted.
    â€œShe ain’t wearing a gun, though,” Tommy said.
    â€œWant to bet your life on it?” I said. I smiled when I said it, and slid my hand, very slowly, towards my back. Make them think I had a hip holster at the small of my back. Tommy shifted, flexing his hand near his gun. If he went for it, we were going to die. I was going to come back and haunt Bert.
    Gaynor said, “No. No need for anyone to die here today, Ms. Blake.”
    â€œNo,” I said, “no need at all.” I swallowed my pulse back into my throat and eased my hand away from my imaginary gun. Tommy eased away from his real one. Goody for us.
    Gaynor smiled again, like a pleasant beardless Santa. “You of course understand that telling the police would be useless.”
    I nodded. “We have no proof. You didn’t even tell us who you wanted raised from the dead, or why.”
    â€œIt would be your word against mine,” he said.
    â€œAnd I’m sure you have friends in high places.” I smiled when I said it.
    His smile widened, dimpling his fat little cheeks. “Of course.”
    I turned my back on Tommy and his gun. Bert followed. We walked outside into the blistering summer heat. Bert looked a little shaken. I felt almost friendly towards him. It was nice to know that Bert had limits, something he wouldn’t do, even for a million dollars.
    â€œWould they really have shot us?” he asked. His voice soundedmatter-of-fact, firmer than the slightly glassy look in his eyes. Tough Bert. He unlocked the trunk without being asked.
    â€œWith Harold Gaynor’s name in our appointment book and in the computer?” I got my gun out and slipped on the holster rig. “Not knowing who we’d mentioned this trip to?” I shook my head. “Too risky.”
    â€œThen why did you pretend to have a gun?” He looked me straight in the eyes as he asked, and for the first time I saw uncertainty in his face. Ol’ money bags needed a comforting word, but I was fresh out.
    â€œBecause, Bert, I could have been wrong.”

2
    T HE BRIDAL SHOP was just off 70 West in St. Peters. It was called The Maiden Voyage. Cute. There was a pizza place on one side of it and a beauty salon on the other. It was called Full Dark Beauty Salon. The windows were blacked out, outlined in bloodred neon. You could