Page 34 of How to Stake a Vampire

Bo’s ears perked up.

“There are rumors about me?” he enthused, tail swinging like crazy.

Rita politely declined to answer and led us into the mansion’s grand foyer, Officer Brigham staying put at the entrance to keep watch. The entrance hall was crowded with oil paintings of stern-faced vampires who looked like they’d spent their immortal lives complaining about taxes.

“The victim was found at the bottom of the main staircase.” The banshee indicated the impressive marble structure sweeping upward in dramatic curves from the middle of the entrance hall. “He died of a broken neck, followed by an accidental decapitation. A surprising way for a vampire to go, if I say so myself.” She shot a contrite glance at Barney.

“Accidental decapitation?” I asked nervously.

Rita pointed at a suit of armor with a bloodied sword standing guard next to the staircase. “He bounced and sliced his head right off that.”

“How, er, unfortunate,” I murmured glassily.

“But way cool,” Bo enthused with macabre enthusiasm.

Barney frowned. “I still can’t believe Giles is dead. Are you certain?”

“He’s been as cold as ice for going on eight hours, so yes.” Rita sighed at Barney’s look. “Look, I understand your skepticism. A decapitation should have been a walk in the park for a vampire to recover from, but there is no denying that he’s as dead as a doorknob.”

Barney’s face grew shuttered.

Samuel frowned at the staircase. “He fell the whole way?”

“All forty-three steps,” Detective Johnson confirmed.

Rita led us to where yellow tape cordoned off the base of the stairs. A chalk outline marked where Lord Chudwell’s body had been found.

The angle of the limbs made my stomach twist and Gavin heave a little. A grim circle a few feet away marked where the head had landed.

“Gregory told me what happened to the vampires in Springhill General,” Rita said, matter-of-fact. “The attacker used the same MO. I found injection marks on Lord Chudwell’s neck and evidence of significant blood loss. Unlike the others though, he appears to have fought back.”

Barney stirred. “How can you tell?”

“Torn fabric caught on the banister, defensive wounds on his hands, and”—Rita paused and pursed her lips like she was about to reveal a dirty secret—“he was found clutching this.” She reached inside a metal case filled with forensic tools and produced an evidence bag containing what appeared to be a very old and very worn teddy bear with its belly ripped open and stuffing spilling out. “It seems he used this to try and protect himself.”

It was the saddest thing I had ever seen.

“That’s Mr. Snuggles,” Barney said stiffly. “Giles has had him since he was human.”

“Shall we continue?” Detective Johnson grunted.

Rita nodded briskly. “The attack appears to have taken place in the victim’s private study. Let me show you.”

She led us up a side staircase to avoid the crime scene. The study was on the second floor, with views over the extensive gardens at the rear of the property. There were heavy curtains at the windows, multiple locks on the cabinets lining the walls, and enough security cameras to make a casino jealous. The place was also a mess.

I took in the paperwork and overturned objects strewn across the floor.

“What did Lord Chudwell do for a living?”

“Nothing that would warrant this level of security,” Rita said.

“He lived off the interest of his investment portfolio and the properties and land he owned here and abroad,” Barney murmured glumly.

Detective Johnson furrowed his brow. “The strange thing is, none of the security equipment was disabled. It all just stopped working when the attacker arrived.”

That sounded uncomfortably familiar.

“All of it?” Didi asked insistently.