Page 40 of The Silver Fox Vampire

Then it was gone, and he flashed his signature diamond smile.

“Well, well, if it isn’tSirOliver Hale himself,” he drawled back.

“That was my father. I’m just plain Hale.”

“Ah, of course, the memories blur when you’re as old as I am.”

“Not so very much older than the rest of us.”

Vlad laughed. “Enough to be superior to you in so many ways, Hale.”

“That is a matter for conjecture. But let’s not quibble over a few centuries, shall we?” Oliver eyed his adversary from under heavy lids.

Vlad busied himself hanging dresses on hangers. “What brings you to Motham? Taking a little holiday from your cruisy job in Selig?”

“Not exactly. Thought I might purchase a suit for my new role.”

“Oh, and what might that be?” Vlad said lightly as his long fingers stacked gowns onto a rail.

“I’m heading up the missing humans case here in Motham.”

Vlad did not reply. Oliver waited. Finally, he said, “Surely you’ve not missed that tidbit of scandal, Vlad.”

Vlad shrugged. “Maybe I heard the odd rumor. So it was not enough that you failed on the Shona Dove case, they’ve brought you back to fail again, have they?”

Oliver pinned the smile firmly to his lips. “Ah well, this time around I intend to succeed.”

He brought the dress from out of the bag he’d brought with him and laid it out on Vlad’s table.

“Recognize this?”

“No.”

“You’re lying. You made it.”

Vlad twitched as Oliver displayed the label. “Unless the label is fake, of course.”

Vlad gave a shrug “Could be.”

“But such exquisite stitching, such stunning lace. You have a formidable rival in the fake market if that is the case.”

Vlad twitched. “No one can fake my brand.” Oliver notched up the little victory. When you took a shot at his vanity, Vlad was guaranteed to walk into the trap.

“Do you remember selling it?”

“I have so many customers, how would I?”

“Well, let’s go back through your records, shall we? I might find some very interesting names. And maybe not just for the sale of pretty gowns and fine suits.”

Vlad gave him a sour glance. It was a well-known secret that Vlad had a trade in illicit substances that had nothing to do with silk and lace.

Catching him at it was harder. He had too many clients in high places who would cover for him. Sly bastard.

But today, Oliver had a warrant, which he waved it in Vlad’s face. “You want me to enforce a search of your documentation?”

Vlad pursed his lips, took the dress now in his spidery fingers and laid it out on the counter. His nails were painted black, and he wore them long, like talons. He placed two fingers betweenhis furrowed brow as if thinking hard. Gods, he was so damn theatrical.

“C’mon, senility can’t be setting in quite yet.” Oliver made another dig at the older vampire’s vanity. No one knew Vlad’s real age, which was probably nearer five, even six hundred years old. He had been well into adulthood when the stakings happened.