Diamonds and Blood (Chameleon Assassin Book 5) Read online

  I shook my head. “Not in a place like this. They’ll deliver it all to the hotel.”

  His mood seemed to brighten after that.

  While Nellie was in a changing room trying some of the clothes, I asked Boulanger, “Had you ever met Sonia before Joseph’s death?”

  She gave me a startled look and shook her head. “Sonia? You mean the woman who’s claiming she was married to him? I’ve still never met her.”

  “You did know they were married, though. Didn’t you?”

  “I knew he had some kind of relationship when he was young, but I didn’t know he married her. I thought she had an abortion or gave it away, or something. He told me he paid her off. There were several girls over the years that he had to pay to go away.”

  “Speaking as a lawyer, if he did have any children, what would their legal position be?”

  She gave me another startled look, then her brow wrinkled as she thought. “If they could prove he was their father, they might have a claim on his estate. Most wealthy men have lawyers who deal with such things, so such a situation never arises.”

  “And were you the one who dealt with such things for Joseph?”

  Boulanger chuckled. “You’re sharp, Ms. Nelson. Yes, I was on several occasions. But I wasn’t in on whatever indiscretions he committed in Europe before his father died.”

  “Sonia hasn’t mentioned a child. You’d think that would strengthen her claim.”

  “Unless she had an abortion or something. Even if she had the baby, she may not know where it is.” Boulanger chuckled. “And if she pulled a scam on Joseph all those years ago, she may not want to have the child do a DNA test.”

  Boulanger’s boutique satisfied Nellie’s shopping urge, and after dinner we kicked back in the room and watched videos, including an old twentieth-century murder mystery. After all the excitement of the past few days, it was very relaxing.

  My phone rang as I was getting ready for bed that night. Victor Laroche, one of Wil’s investigators, was on the other end when I answered.

  “Sorry for the late hour. I called Director Wilberforce, and he told me to call you. A man named Theodore Smith was just admitted to the hospital with a gunshot wound. I understand he’s a person of interest in the investigation you’re helping us with.”

  “Yes, thanks. How badly is he hurt?”

  “Shot in the shoulder. Probably not life threatening, but he’s in surgery right now.”

  “He may be in further danger if he survives,” I said. “Can you put a guard on him? And let me know when we can question him?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll let you know.”

  As I crawled into bed, I reflected that even on a quiet night, Montreal was an exciting town.

  The call from Victor came around noon the following day.

  “Smith is awake, and the doctors say we can talk to him.”

  “I’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” I said, hauling my butt out of a comfortable chair and heading for the shower.

  Victor met me in the hospital lobby and filled me in on our way up the elevator.

  “Theodore Smith, aka Teddy, walked into the emergency room last night with a gunshot wound high in his right back. The hospital called the police, and since Director Wilberforce had placed him on a watch list, the police called us. We haven’t talked to him yet.”

  “Good. He’s at the top of our list for Joseph Morgan’s homicide,” I said. “He was an old friend of Morgan’s and he didn’t have an alibi when we questioned him before. With all the murders since then, I want to approach him from a different angle.”

  Victor nodded. “The director told me to let you take the lead.”

  The surgeon greeted us outside Smith’s room.

  “Shot once in the upper right back. The bullet clipped the scapula and broke the right clavicle. The patient lost a significant amount of blood before walking into the emergency room under his own power.”

  “What caliber bullet?” I asked.

  “Thirty-two caliber.”

  “There weren’t any powder burns on the victim’s clothes,” Victor said.

  “Pau Ricard and Eileen Desroches were killed with a thirty-two,” I said.

  “We’re ahead of you,” Victor said. “Ballistics says this bullet came from the same gun.”

  “So, the shooter was behind him, and at least three feet away,” I said.

  Victor nodded.

  He followed me into Smith’s room and leaned against the wall near the door, tacitly handing me the lead. Smith lay in the bed with an IV feeding whole blood into his arm. He looked pretty alert for someone who had been shot and then cut on very recently. But vampires were tough, and all that whole blood they were feeding him was probably his best meal in years. When Wil and I questioned him at the casino, he hadn’t seen me in my own persona, so I introduced myself and showed him my Chamber identification.

  “Who shot you?” I started.

  “Dunno. Never saw him.”

  “Sure it wasn’t a woman? You haven’t pissed any girlfriends off recently?”

  He chuckled. “I should be so lucky.”

  “Do you think you were shot because of what happened to Joseph Morgan?”

  Smith took a deep breath. “I don’t know how. I don’t know who killed Joe, or why they killed him.”

  “Tell me about your relationship with Pau Ricard and Eileen Desroches,” I said.

  He started to shrug and winced. “I know them. Knew them. Pau was a friend of Joe Morgan’s. And everyone knew Eileen. Joe used to pay her to come to his parties, then he passed her around like a party favorite. Why do you want to know about them?”

  “What do you know about Alysia Capozzi?”

  “Nothing. Don’t want anything to do with the Capozzis.”

  “Oh, come now, Teddy. You know everyone, and who you don’t know, you hear the gossip. Tell me about Alysia. I know she was friends with the Desroches girls.”

  He turned his head and gazed out the window. I waited. Past the point where the silence had become uncomfortable, he said, “Alysia used to hang out at the mutie bars. She and Leslie Desroches became friends, used to hang out together. Leslie brought her to a party and introduced her to Joe.” He looked up and met my eyes. “You know that her husband has peculiar tastes.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, Joe always had a thing for muties. She started coming around without Leslie. But I think that was over before he was killed. She was just a piece of ass, and unless a girl was something really special, he got tired of them quickly.”

  “So, she took up with Savatier?”

  He shook his head. “Joe shared almost everything with Jacques. He shared the Capozzi woman with him early on. Jacques always took Joe’s leftovers. It made it easier for Joe to dump them.”

  “Did he share Leslie Desroches also?”

  “He did with Jacques, but not with anyone else. She was special. A wolfgirl with class. You know he screwed Jacques, too, don’t you? Been riding each other for decades. Joe wasn’t very particular as to where he put it.”

  “Did he do Alysia’s husband?” I asked.

  Smith shot me a sharp look. “You crazy? Even Joe was smarter than that. He was wrapped up with Benito, and if Benito ever found out Joe was screwing David, that would have been the end. Just a rumor would be enough for old Carmine Capozzi to shut up a loose tongue. The Capozzis are old school, traditional.”

  “How was Joe wrapped up with Benito?”

  He seemed to shrink, trying to draw his head down between his shoulders.

  “I dunno.” He looked away from me, fear on his face. “I’m rambling. Must be the drugs. I dunno anything about the Capozzis.”

  I thought about what direction to take things next. I’d taken the opening he gave me, but my question made him realize he’d said too much.

  “Teddy, the gun that shot you was the same one used to kill Pau Ricard and Eileen Desroches.”

  His head snapped around, and he stared at me. />
  “What were they up to that someone wanted them dead? And then he came after you. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

  “I’m tired. Don’t want to talk no more,” he said.

  “I can protect you,” I said. “If you walk out of here, I can’t protect you. If the people I’m thinking of are after you, you need me.”

  “Tired.” Smith turned his head away and closed his eyes.

  “Think about it, Teddy. I’ll be back tonight. Think about where your best chance lies.”

  I walked to the door, and Victor followed me out into the corridor.

  “You’re not from Montreal,” Victor said. “Do you know who the Capozzis are?”

  “I went to school with Alysia in Toronto. I’ve met Alonzo Donofrio. Yeah, I know who the Capozzis are.”

  “You can’t blame him for being scared.”

  “I’ll blame him if he ends up dead. Hell, Morgan in bed with Benito Capozzi? And did you hear how familiarly he spoke about the Capozzis? That was more than gossip. He knows who’s at the center of all this.”

  Chapter 18

  “Who wants to go out to a mutie bar with me?” I asked.

  “Me!” Nellie answered.

  “Not a chance,” Tom said. “You going out hunting whoever’s been killing all these people?”

  “Well, not specifically. I just want to see if I can get some information on some of the people involved.”

  Tom shook his head. “Nellie’s not going.”

  In the end, Tom said he would go with me to cover my back. At six-foot-two and about two hundred fifty pounds with a weight-lifter’s body, Tom could be intimidating. The .356 magnum he carried was also pretty intimidating.

  Victor had given me the names of a couple of mutie bars that I might try, but Safari was the largest and best-known mutie bar, so we headed there first. Tom’s paranoia dictated that we take a car, with Billy driving and then waiting outside.

  “I’ve gone places with you in the past that had bad endings,” Tom told me. “If we have to make a quick getaway, I want to make it easier.”

  Tom knew about my chameleon abilities, so I didn’t have to worry about morphing into a semi-sedate version of my Becca image. In Toronto, I usually frequented the mutie bars as myself, but in Montreal, too many people associated with Morgan’s murder were getting shot or blown up.

  “So, what’s our play?” Tom asked as we entered the club.

  “Just keep an eye on me. I’m really just looking for information on a couple of people. The women who got killed were shifting high-end diamonds, and I’m trying to figure out who their middleman was.”

  I carried pictures of Alysia, Geraldine, and the Desroches sisters. I bought a drink and wandered around telling people I was from out of town and looking to hook up with an old friend named Alysia.

  Someone finally referred me to a woman with white hair, the face of a twelve-year-old, and a body like Mae West in an old vid. Clarissa looked me over and asked, “What kind of business do you have with Alysia?”

  “We’re old friends, grew up together in Toronto. It’s been a couple of years, and I can’t remember the name of the guy she married. She said to find her here when I got into town.”

  Clarissa studied me. “Alysia’s dead.”

  I tried to project shock and horror. “Dead? I just talked to her a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Yeah, she got caught in some kind of dirty business,” Clarissa said. “Or maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Got blown up with a bunch of other people.”

  “Wow. I heard there was a terrorist bombing or something, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.” I took a deep breath. “Wow.”

  Clarissa watched me very carefully. “Guess you’ll have to hang out with someone else.”

  “Yeah. Well, the major reason I came was she said she had a business deal for me. I guess that’s dead now.”

  “What kind of business deal?”

  I acted as though I suddenly realized where I was, and that I was talking to a complete stranger.

  “Oh, well, that’s…don’t worry about it. It was something she put together.”

  I started to turn away.

  “Capozzi,” Clarissa said, her eyes narrowing as she studied my reaction.

  “What?”

  “Her last name is Capozzi. Her husband’s name is David. If she was doing any kind of business thing, it would be with him. Alysia didn’t have her act together enough to do anything without him.”

  I shook my head. “She said something about a woman named Geraldine.”

  Clarissa nodded. “Yeah, I knew Gerry, too. You want to talk with David.”

  “How would I find him?”

  “Try the phone directory,” Clarissa said. “Be careful. Montreal is a dangerous place when the hunters hunt the hunters.” She drained her glass and turned away from me, heading for the bar.

  I waited a few minutes, then went to the bar to order another drink. I squeezed between Tom and another guy and signaled the bartender.

  After the guy behind the bar took my order, Tom muttered, “Ya know how lycan males get territorial?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Three guys have taken a real interest in you. Suggest a change of outfit next time you visit the little girl’s room.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I took a sip and sauntered off toward the stage. Simply by paying a little attention, it was obvious who Tom was talking about. Three big lycan males seemed to have zeroed in on me for their evening’s entertainment. In lycan society, a female often didn’t have much say about her own body. Half-lycan females often didn’t either but tended to object a lot more.

  Walking around one of the pillars holding the roof up, I blurred my image and froze with my back against the pillar. I had to choke back a laugh. A guy at a table about twenty feet in front of me was staring at me, or rather at the pillar, in open-mouthed astonishment. After a minute, he shut his mouth and pushed his drink away from him. He said something to one of his companions, shaking his head, then got up and semi-staggered toward the restrooms.

  When it appeared that no one was looking at me, I morphed into myself, and using the pillar for some cover, headed to the ladies’ room.

  I came out five minutes later. I couldn’t locate one of the lycans, and the other two seemed to be wandering around looking for something. I grinned and joined Tom at the bar.

  “Much better,” he said. “Never been a fan of all that fur. Ya know, if you weren’t so skinny, I might let you in my bed some night. You ain’t half bad when you make the effort.”

  “In your dreams.”

  He chuckled. “Any luck?”

  “I think so. No way to check it out, though. Shall we try one of the other bars?”

  “Whatever. Go in as you, though. I’m not in the mood to take on a pack of lycans.”

  “No, I’m not either.”

  Tom got on his phone as we exited the club, and Billy pulled the car up to the corner. As we got in, I saw a guy come out and stand there watching us. He looked a little familiar, and as we pulled away, I realized I had seen him on the street when Nellie and Billy and I left Janice Boulanger’s boutique.

  “Where to?” Billy asked.

  “A place called Wonderland,” I replied.

  Billy gave the autopilot instructions, then said, “That’s really down in the ghetto.”

  Safari was located on the edge of the mutant district. We drove east, deeper into the enclave. We passed near the area where the Desroches sisters lived, and I allowed myself a bit of mourning for my statuette. The money hurt, but the major thing was that Leslie Desroches would never again create such a beautiful piece of art.

  Rather than deal with another macho lycan situation, I simply donned a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude and entered Wonderland as myself. I almost never used a vampire persona because I couldn’t stomach drinking straight blood. Dealing with a male troll was far worse than dealing with lycans, and most othe
r mutations were either ugly or unnoticeable. Call me vain, but I had enough self-image problems without adding a disfigurement. I was six feet tall at thirteen years old, and the other children weren’t kind.

  Wonderland had plenty of ugly. Most cities had a bar where the socially unacceptable muties gathered, and the horror show at Wonderland told me we had found it. Vampires were the most normal-looking people in the place.

  Changing tactics a little, I focused my inquiries on Geraldine instead of Alysia. After a frustrating hour, I realized that Gerry probably didn’t meet lovers such as Joseph Morgan and Benito Capozzi by hanging out in a mutie dive bar.

  I slid up beside Tom and said, “This is a bust.”

  “I figured as much,” he said. “Even you wouldn’t hang out here, and you’re not a gold digger.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult, so I let it go. Instead, I asked, “See the Vampire down at the other end of the bar? Tall, skinny guy.”

  “Yeah. I think you’ve got an admirer.”

  “I think I’ve got a tail. He was at Safari earlier, and I saw him on the street yesterday.”

  “Back door?” Tom asked.

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll head to the ladies’ room.” The door to the kitchen was close beside the hallway that led to the restrooms.

  Tom put a hand to his ear and started giving Billy instructions. I walked toward the ladies’ room. My admirer, as Tom called him, turned and leaned back against the bar to watch me. I walked into the hallway to the restrooms and found myself alone. Immediately blurring my form, I hugged the wall and peeked around the corner.

  I watched Tom casually stroll down the length of the bar, then trip and spill his beer in the vampire’s face. The vamp let out a loud curse, and while everyone’s attention was on the wet vamp, I scooted around the corner and slipped through the kitchen door. Keeping close to the wall, I hurried through the cramped, dirty space to the open back door and ducked into the alley.

  It was obvious the alley was too narrow for the car we were using, but Billy was parked across one end, so I took off in that direction. I unblurred when I got close and jumped into the back seat.