"In the meantime," I continued, "I'm going to try to help Cameron resolve his problem. Can I call on you if I need your help?"
"Sure," she said. "Anything you need." She got a notebook out of her purse and scribbled on a page, ripped it out, and handed it to me. "That's my boyfriend's cell phone number. He left it with me while he's in Italy."
I cocked a quizzical look at her. "You've had a phone all this time?"
"Yeah, but I wasn't going to let my mom know that." She grinned and became a very pretty girl with very ugly hair.
"I won't tell her," I promised.
"Thanks."
Back across the water, I stopped at the office to check my messages.
"Ms. Blaine, of course paying for information is no problem. Up t… five hundred dollars? This will be acceptable. Please keep me informed." Sergeyev really wanted this thing.
I wrote myself a note, then headed home.
I checked Chaos when I got home and found her sleeping, ignoring me with a will. I looked toward the chair and the narrow, awful-red cabinet and let them wait. I flopped onto the couch with a beer and indulged in total, potato-headed TV-watching.
I was fascinated by some kind of nature show about Australia when the phone rang. I answered and was ambushed.
"I just talked to my son, thank you," Colleen Shadley started, "and he told me some… cockamamie story about vampires and night-clubs and I don't know what. Now, you—you tell me what is really going on!"
"I'm not certain myself yet," I answered. "It's complicated."
"That's hogwash! Why is he doing this to me? Why is Cameron lying to me? I hired you to find my son and you seem to have found some kind of nut!"
"Are you saying that the man you just spoke to was not your son?" I asked.
"No, I am not!"
"So it was Cameron who called?"
"Well, it sounded like him. Except for this wild tale-telling. Now, you tell me the truth, damn it!"
"Well," I drawled, "I am pretty well convinced your son is a vampire."
"What!" she shrieked. "Have you gone completely insane!"
"No." My speech was like molasses. "I don't want to upset you, Colleen, but, as the Bard said, 'There are more things in heaven and earth… I wasn't inclined to believe it myself, at first, but Cam has said and demonstrated some things that convince me that he's… not factory spec anymore. And he still has some problems to resolve."
She barked. Well, it sounded like a cross between a growl and a bark, and it wasn't the sound I was expecting. "I want you over here— now!" She spat out the address and slammed down the phone. I pushed the disconnect button. The phone rang again before I could even put it down.
Cam sounded about eight years old. "Harper? Did my mom call you?"
"Yes. She just hung up."
"Is she still upset?"
"Upset would be a very mild description. I have been ordered into the presence at once. How 'bout you?"
"Me, too. Umm… do you want to go together? I could pick you up."
"I think separate cars would be better. There's no guarantee we'd be leaving at the same time."
"All right. I'll see you over there."
I hung up and went looking for my shoes. I tickled my computer and got it to spit out a copy of my bill, just in case.
On the way to Bellevue, I considered what I was heading into. I hadn't really expected Cameron to try the truth on her quite so soon, and I hadn't any idea how Colleen Shadley would react once I arrived. I supposed that she wanted me out there so she could fire me or demand answers she liked better than her son's. I didn't think she'd like mine any better, but since I'd already completed the task, she couldn't fire me.
She could refuse the bill, though, and that would be unpleasant. I hadn't had to remind a client of nonpayment in a long time and I didn't look forward to it. Colleen was the lawyers-and-litigation type, without a doubt, and Nan Grover wouldn't like having to choose between a friend and me. No matter what happened, it wasn't going to be fun.
The Shadley house sprawled in one of the horse-trail suburbs where the yards run to an acre or two around houses of equal size. I had to wander a bit to get into the nest of twisted streets and up the curving, grumpy rises to the rambling stone house that hung back from the street like a shy child behind a screen of cypress trees. Cameron's green Camaro stood in the driveway.
The air near the house flickered a bit to my gaze and familiar, cold nausea slid a bodkin along my ribs. I looked sideways at the curtain between here and there, probing the dark spots until I thought I had looked into them all. I caught the shape…
"Hi," he said, and I twitched, not quite prepared. Cam was waiting in the shadows of the trellised entry. "I didn't want to go in without you."
"Afraid your mother will eat you?" I asked.
"Sort of. I've never heard her this mad. I mean, she yells at Sarah once in a while, but not like this. She's hot."
"I noticed." I took a few deep, slow breaths before continuing. "All right. Let's beard the lioness." I rang the bell. The porch light came on and the door wrenched open.
Colleen glared at both of us and directed us in. Cam, the coward, let me go first. She led us into a stiff, formal room. I shot a glance at Cameron and he made a grimace. This must have been the child-free zone of his youth, approached only on formal occasions or under parental indictment. We were being called onto the antique Chinese carpet.
Cameron's mother sat down on the pale cream sofa and pointed us at narrow-backed chairs without armrests. I sat on the love seat across from her instead. After a second's pause, Cameron sat next to me.
Colleen reined in a scowl, but didn't comment. "I would like an explanation out of both of you. Now."
Cameron started to answer, "Mo—"
I cut him off with a hand gesture, presenting his mother a bland face. "Of what, Colleen?"
"Of this phone call I had from Cameron this evening. Of what is really going on. Now, please."
"I think we need some clarification first," I suggested, sitting back and stretching out my legs to their full, space-hogging length. I crossed my booted feet at the ankle, heels pointing at her in insouciant despite. "You hired me to find your son and I have, unless you claim that this young man is not your son. Is he?"
"Yes, of course he is," she replied. "But—"
"Then you agree that I've supplied the service you contracted for."
She hedged. "Up to a point."
"There was no other point agreed on in the contract or our discussion, Colleen. As his mother, you were concerned for your son. As the executrix of his trust fund, you were concerned for your trustee. Here he is—son and trustee, whole and sound. I'm willing to discuss the case with you insofar as it doesn't intrude on Cameron's privacy—even further with his permission. But, professionally and ethically, that's all I will do."
She glowered, but she also knew I had her, as far as contracts were concerned. "Very well, then. You can send me your bill and go now."
Cameron was vibrating with tension, his flickering making me dizzy. "I want her to stay. Mom, I'm sorry I tried to run away from my problem and that I didn't get in touch with you a lot earlier, but I knew you would have a hard time with this. I had a hard time with it, and I'm still having a hard time. I wish you'd cut me some slack."
"Slack? You sound just like your sister. You think you'll be handled with kid gloves if you just whine enough."