"So you think Dominga Salvador is our zombie raiser?" Dolph said.
"Yes."
He stared at me across the small table. His eyes were very serious. "Can you prove it?"
"No."
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Great, just great."
"The coffee smells done," Zerbrowski said. He was sitting on the floor, back propped against the kitchen doorway.
I got up and poured the coffee. "If you want sugar or cream, help yourself." I put the cream, real cream, out on the kitchen counter along with the sugar bowl. Zerbrowski took a lot of sugar and a dab of cream. Dolph went for black. It was the way I took it most of the time. Tonight I added cream and sweetened it. Real cream in real coffee. Yum, yum.
"If we could get you inside Dominga's house, could you find proof?" Dolph asked.
"Proof of something, sure, but of raising the killer zombie … " I shook my head. "If she did raise it and it got away, then she won't want to be tied to it. She'll have destroyed all the proof, just to save face."
"I want her for this," Dolph said.
"Me, too."
"She might also try and kill you again," Zerbrowski said from the doorway. He was blowing on his coffee to cool it.
"No joke," I said.
"You think she'll try again?" Dolph asked.
"Probably. How the hell did two zombies get inside my apartment?"
"Someone picked the lock," Dolph said. "Could the zombie …»
"No, a zombie would rip a door off its hinges, but it wouldn't take the time to pick a lock. Even if it had the fine motor skill to do it."
"So someone with skill opened the door and let them in," Dolph said.
"Appears so," I said.
"Any ideas on that?"
"I would bet one of her bodyguards. Her grandson Antonio or maybe Enzo. A big guy in his forties who seems to be her personal protection. I don't know if either of them have the skill, but they'd do it. Enzo, but not Antonio."
"Why cross him off?"
"If Tony had let the zombies in, he'd have stayed and watched."
"You sure?"
I shrugged. "He's that kind of guy. Enzo would do business and leave. He'd follow orders. The grandson wouldn't."
Dolph nodded. "There's a lot of heat from upstairs to solve this case. I think I can get us a search warrant in forty-eight hours."
"Two days is a long time, Dolph."
"Two days without one piece of proof, Anita. Except for your word. I'm going out on a limb for this one."
"She's in it, Dolph, somehow. I don't know why, and I don't know what could have caused her to lose control of the zombie, but she's in it."
"I'll get the warrant," he said.
"One of the brothers in blue said you told him you were a cop," Zerbrowski said.
"I told him I was with your squad. I never said I was a cop."
Zerbrowski grinned. "Mmm-huh."
"Will you be safe here tonight?" Dolph asked.
"I think so. The Seсora doesn't want to get on the bad side of the law. They treat renegade witches sort of like renegade vampires. It's an automatic death sentence."
"Because people are too scared of them," Dolph said.
"Because some witches can slip through the fucking bars."
"How about voodoo queens?" Zerbrowski said.
I shook my head. "I don't want to know."
"We better go, leave you to get some sleep," Dolph said. He left his empty coffee cup on the table. Zerbrowski hadn't finished his, but he put it on the counter and followed Dolph out.
I walked them to the door.
"I'll let you know when we get the warrant," Dolph said.
"Could you arrange for me to see Peter Burke's personal effects?"
"Why?"
"There are only two ways to lose control of a zombie this badly. One, you are strong enough to raise it, but not to control it. Dominga can control anything she can raise. Second, someone of near equal power interferes, sort of a challenge." I stared up at Dolph. "John Burke might just be strong enough to have done it. Maybe if I'm helpful enough to take John down to go over his brother's effects-you know, does any of this look out of place, that type of thing maybe this Burke will let something slip."
"You've already got Dominga Salvador pissed at you, Anita. Isn't that enough for one week?"
"For one lifetime," I said. "But it's something we can do while we wait for the warrant."
Dolph nodded. "Yeah. I'll arrange it. Call Mr. Burke tomorrow morning and set up a time. Then call me."
"Will do."
Dolph hesitated in the doorway for a moment. "Watch your back."
"Always," I said.
Zerbrowski leaned into me and said, "Nice penguins." He followed Dolph down the hallway. I knew the next time I saw the rest of the spook squad they'd all know I collected toy penguins. My secret was out. Zerbrowski would spread it far and wide. At least, he was consistent.
It was nice to know something was.
18
Stuffed animals are not meant to be submerged in water. The two in the bathtub were ruined. Maybe spot remover? The smell was thick and seemed permanent. I put an emergency message on my cleaning service's answering machine. I didn't give a lot of details. Didn't want to frighten them off.
I packed an overnight bag. Two changes of clothes and one penguin with his tummy freshly scrubbed, Harold Gaynor's file, and I was set. I also packed both guns: the Firestar in its inner pants holster; the Browning under my arm. A windbreaker hid the Browning from view. I had extra ammo in the jacket pockets. Between both guns I had twenty-two bullets. Twenty-two bullets. Why didn't I feel safe?
Unlike most walking dead, zombies can bear the touch of sunlight. They don't like it, but they can exist with it. Dominga could order a zombie to kill me in daylight just as easily as moonlight. She wouldn't be able to raise the dead during daylight, but if she planned it right, she could raise the dead the night before and send it out to get me the next day. A voodoo priestess with executive planning skills. It would be just my luck.
I didn't really believe that Dominga had backup zombies waiting to jump me. But somehow I was feeling paranoid this morning. Paranoia is just another word for longevity.
I stepped out into the quiet hallway, glancing both ways as if it were a street. Nothing. No walking corpses hiding in the shadows. No one but us fraidy-cats. The only sound was the hush of the air-conditioning. The hallway had that feel to it. I came home often enough at dawn to know the quality of silence. I thought about that for a minute. I knew it was almost dawn. Not by clock or window, but on some level deeper than that. Some instinct that an ancestor had found while hiding in a dark cave, praying for light.
Most people fear the dark in a vague way. They fear what might be out there. I raise the dead. I've slain over a dozen vampires. I know what's out there in the dark. And I am terrified of it. People are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so damn frightening.
I knew what would have happened to me if I had failed last night. If I had been slower or a worse shot. Two years ago there had been three murders. Nothing connected them except the method of death. They had been torn apart by zombies. They had not been eaten. Normal zombies don't eat anything. They may bite a time or two, but that's the worst of it. There had been the man whose throat was crushed, but that had been accidental. The zombie just bit down on the nearest body part. It happened to be a killing blow. Blind luck.