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CHAPTER NINE

The next morning, I found myself staring at my computer. Astra was making breakfast, and I was ready for work. As I scanned Zandre’s questionnaire, my stomach knotted again.

“Auntie, I need your advice. I think Zandre threatened me last night. Subtly, but it felt like a threat.” I had tossed and turned all night.

Yes, I want a companion. Find her for me, Maisy. Because I trust you, and I’d hate to think that I’ve misplaced my trust.

The words had been said smoothly enough, but they had set my alarms going. When I had managed to get to sleep, I had felt a vague sense of dread filtering through my dreams.

Astra put down the turner she’d been using to flip the eggs. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure. But Zandre…I wish I’d just said no and turned him away. He worries me, and I think that he might be dangerous. At least when it comes to one woman in particular.” I told her everything that Zandre had told me. I usually kept my consultations private, but I still felt like he might make a stupid move when it came to Denise Rober.

“You need to talk to her, as soon as possible.”

“What about Zandre? Is there anybody I should talk to about this?” I wasn’t sure what would happen if I went to the police. What was there to report? A vampire who was obsessed with a woman he was convinced was his late wife from a couple hundred years ago? If he’d been any normal man, the cops wouldn’t do anything. Not until he took some sort of action.

“Talk to her. If on the off chance she does have feelings for him, or if she shows an interest, then maybe he’s right. We can’t discount the possibility, no matter how small. If not, then you see how he reacts.” Astra turned back to the eggs. “Damn, they’re overcooked.”

“I don’t care, as long as they aren’t burnt. All right, I’ll contact her and see what she says. I just worry because with him a vampire, and her a dog shifter, he has a lot more strength and power than she has. Auntie, my alarm bells are going off like crazy.”

“All the more reason for you to touch base with her.” Astra slid the eggs onto two plates, then added toast and bacon. “Breakfast is ready. I already fed Dahlia and Miss P.” She carried our plates over to the nook while I made our breakfast lattes.

I pulled out my tablet and sat down at the table, bringing up the number of the Shifter Creek Preschool Academy, then unlocked my phone and punched in the number. A couple rings later, someone answered.

“Shifter Creek Preschool Academy, Lana speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hi,” I said. “I’m trying to get in touch with a teacher there. Denise Rober. Is she available?”

“She’s in class right now. May I take a message?” Lana asked.

I thought for a moment. “Actually, yes. My name is Maisy Tripwater, and I really need to talk to Ms. Rober. Tell her…it’s just important. It’s about someone she may have once known.” I left my number, asking Lana to relay the message as soon as possible, then hung up. “I hope she calls back.”

“I do, too, love. Maybe you should talk to Stuart, privately. Not on record. Get his advice?” She took a bite of her eggs and grimaced. “These are like rubber. I can remake them if you like.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said. “And that’s actually a good idea. I’m just afraid that if I don’t take appropriate measures, something will happen.”

Astra stared at me, frowning. “You seem hypersensitive to the situation. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but…did anything ever happen to you, to make you this concerned? Is it a vampire thing? Or…”

I knew what she was asking. I shook my head.

“Not to me, not directly. But I had a friend in Seattle. Leslie was stalked by a guy who had convinced himself she was in love with him. She didn’t know he was alive, to be honest—not more than to say ‘hey, how are you’ on the bus…that sort of thing, until the guy started showing up where she worked, and running into her in the grocery store, the movie theater—you name it, he’d show up there when she did.”

“Did she talk to the police?” Astra asked.

“No, she didn’t. She did tell Dan and me about it, and we tried to convince her to contact the police, but she refused. Leslie thought he’d just lose interest. She didn’t want to make a scene, and she thought he’d move on.”

“I take it he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t. When she started going out with somebody else, the stalker—his name was Cliff—broke into her apartment and he raped her, beat her into unconsciousness, and left her for dead. I found her. We were supposed to go shopping together, and I dropped by to her apartment to pick her up. I found the door ajar, and I went in. She was on the floor, covered in bruises and blood. The medics managed to save her, but maybe it could have been prevented. If Dan and I had gone to the police for her, or if we just pushed her harder…”

“Did they catch this Cliff?” Astra asked.

I shook my head. “The cops broke into his apartment and found him dead. He’d shot himself and left a long, rambling note about how she’d driven him to suicide by not loving him. All sorts of victim blaming. At least he spared the city the cost of a trial and keeping him alive behind bars. But Leslie…she withdrew after that. She stopped talking to most of her friends, including us.”

The memory still stung.

“So, you feel responsible?” Astra asked.

“It’s not that simple. Dan and I did what we could, but where’s the point where doing the right thing ends, and letting others make their own choices begins? Should we have gone to the cops? Did we do the right thing by accepting her refusal? I know the final responsibility ends at Cliff’s feet, but could we have stopped him from harming her? It’s one big ball of wax that I don’t fully understand.”

I frowned, finishing my latte. “So, likening this case to that one, what if I do nothing and Zandre attacks her? What if she refuses him, and he…say…turns her into a vampire?”

“What if you do what you can, and then accept that there are dozens of potential endings to this situation, and every single move made by each person involved alters the outcome?” Astra picked up her dishes and carried them to the sink.

I followed, with mine. “True enough.”

My phone rang, then, interrupting our conversation. I picked it up and saw that the incoming call was from the preschool. “This is probably Denise.” I answered, returning to the booth.

“Hello? Maisy Tripwater here.”

“Hi, this is Denise Rober. I received a message to call this number?” She sounded curious, but wary.

“Oh, yes. Listen, is there a chance you could meet me for lunch? I have a delicate situation to discuss with you and I don’t feel like doing so over the phone would work. It’s regarding a man named Zandre, who thinks you may know him.”

She paused, then said, “I’ve never heard of anybody by that name. Just who are you?”

“I own a matchmaking and psychic reading service—Married At First Bite. Zandre is a client of mine. He seems to think there’s some connection between the two of you, and I feel like I need to talk to you about this, before he decides to take matters into his own hands.” I felt like I was walking a tightrope.

Another pause.

Then she said, “Can you meet me here, at the preschool? I’m on playground duty during lunch, but we can talk then, if you don’t mind keeping watch over a bunch of rowdy shifter kids with me.”

“That’s fine. Tell me where to meet you, and I’ll come at…what time is your lunch?”

“Eleven-thirty. Meet me on the playground. I have to go—my break’s over.”

“I’ll see you then,” I said, jotting down the time as she hung up.

“Well, for better or worse, at least I’m warning her about this. Though I have the feeling that Zandre’s going to be extremely disappointed by the outcome. I just hope his disappointment doesn’t trigger him to do something foolish.”

“Amen to that,” my aunt said. “Amen to that.”

* * *

By eleven-thirty, I was standing by the jungle gym on the playground of the Shifter Creek Preschool Academy. The school was private, located on an acre of land near the Waterman Shopping Center, the biggest mall on the island.

The school was single-story, and most of the acre was covered with lush grass, with only a few trees here and there. The entire campus was fenced, and there was a designated area for parents to pick up their children. The parking lot was off to the side.

I watched as the doors to the school opened and a host of tiny beings raced out. They were followed by two adults, one of whom I recognized as Denise from her picture. She glanced around the yard, then saw me and waved. I waved back, as she jogged over to meet me.

“Are you Maisy Tripwater?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes, and you’re Denise? Thank you so much for meeting me. I know this all sounds odd, but I really need to talk to you. Is there a place we can sit?”

“Sure, just let me tell my colleague that I’m going to be occupied for a few minutes, so she can watch the kids on her own.” She crossed to the other woman, who was talking to a little girl who was holding a broken flower and crying. Then, a moment later, Denise returned.

She led me over to one of the picnic tables in an area shaded by a big oak tree. There were a number of the tables, but the kids were mostly racing around the grass.

“The school seems nice,” I said. “Are they all shifters?” I nodded to the children.

“For the most part, yes. We occasionally have an outlier, but the school is primarily focused on helping shifters fit into society from an early age. We help them control their animal side.”

I didn’t know much about shifters when they were young, but it sounded important.

“So, what’s this all about?” Denise asked. “I don’t have too long—Nancy needs my help watching the kids.”

“I understand, and I appreciate you giving me some time. So, as I told you, I own a matchmaking service?—”

Denise cut me off. “I’m not in the market, if you’re drumming up business.”

“No, that’s not it at all,” I said, but that answered the big question for me. “Here’s the thing. I have a new client who…well…there’s no easy way to put this, but he’s convinced you’re the reincarnation of his late wife, and that you’ve come back to be with him again. He was madly in love with her, and she was killed.”

Denise stared at me, blinking slowly. “How old is this guy? Is he a shifter? Because otherwise, I’m probably a lot older than he is.”

I sighed. “That’s the thing. He’s a vampire. He’s well over two hundred. His wife was killed in a bank robbery in the 1800s. Her name was Eugenia. He saw your picture in the paper and he’s convinced that she reincarnated as you. And that…”

“That I’ve come back to be with him again?” Denise’s eyes widened, and she looked absolutely horrified. “No, absolutely not. In the first place, I’m married, and my wife wouldn’t take kindly to me falling for a man. In the second place, I’m gay. In the third, I’d never, not in a million years, fall for a vampire.”

“That answers that. I tried to tell him to let go of the idea, but he’s the kind of man who doesn’t seem like he wants to accept anything unless he’s faced with it head-on. I told him I’d talk to you and find out the truth.” I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. “I tried to get him to let it go, but…”

“But…he’s a man, and a vampire at that. Stubborn asshole. How dare he just assume that I’m…that I…” She began to sputter.

“Listen, for what it’s worth, I think by me getting a definitive no from you, he’ll probably back off. But just in case, I want to talk to the sheriff and just fill him in on what’s going on. Do you have any objections to me talking to Stuart?”

Denise thought for a moment, then said, “No, I don’t. In fact, I’d rather you did. Please, keep me updated on what happens. I’ve dealt with too many men who didn’t want to take no for an answer, or who believed that I just needed to get laid by the right guy. That if I opened my legs to them, all my gayness would fly away just like magic.”

I pulled out my phone. “Do you mind if I record you telling Zandre that you aren’t interested, and that you’re not who he thinks you are? I don’t know if he’s going to believe that I actually talked to you without some proof.”

“Be my guest,” Denise said. She straightened, then looked straight into the camera of my phone as I hit the record button.

“Denise, will you please tell my client what you told me?”

She had dropped any semblance of a smile. In a flat voice, she said, “I’m not your late wife. I’m gay, and I’m married. I’m sorry, but you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m not interested, and you’ll have to find your lost love somewhere else.”

I ended the recording. “I’ll still have a talk with the sheriff, just to make certain we’ve covered every base. I usually keep all my clients private, but this time I just felt that I needed to intervene—the longer he goes on believing that you’re back here for him, the messier it’s bound to get.”

“You’re right, and you did a good thing. Thank you,” Denise said. “Give me your card, in case any of my friends are ever looking for a dating service.”

I handed her my card. “Thanks, Denise, and I’ll let you know what the sheriff says.”

As I waved to her and watched her slowly walk back toward the field of playing children, I decided my next stop would be at Stuart’s office. Hopefully, Zandre would gracefully accept Denise’s video and give up the idea that she was Eugenia. But I wanted backup, just in case he didn’t.