61.
An hour later, still at the window, my cell rang.
The name that popped up on the LCD screen said it was Sara Benson, Kingsley's receptionist. "Mr. Kingsley Fulcrum requests a meeting tonight at the Downtown Grill in Fullerton at ten thirty."
"Oh, really?" I said, rolling my eyes. "And why doesn't Mr. Kingsley Fulcrum call me himself?" I emphasized Kingsley Fulcrum. I mean, who has their secretary set up dates for them? Not only was I falling for a werewolf, I was falling for a werewolf with a massive ego.
"He's in a meeting at the moment."
I checked my watch. Geez, defense attorneys kept weird hours. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
"Fine," I said. "Tell Kingsley I'll be there."
"I'm sure he will be pleased."
More than likely this was a business meeting, but since this was Friday night, who knows, maybe Kingsley had something more on his mind.
As I was getting dressed for what might or might not be a date, my cell rang again.
"Funny how you only call when you need something," said the deep voice immediately. It was Chad.
"Would you prefer I called if I didn't need something?"
"Would be a pleasant change."
"I'll think about it."
"How's that skin disease working out for you?" he asked.
"Very well, thanks for asking."
"Anytime," he said. "You want the name and address for that cell number?"
"Would be nice," I said, very aware that the name he was about to give me could very well be the shooter.
He gave me the name and address. I used the hotel stationery and pen. By the time I finished writing, my hand was shaking.
I clicked off and stared at the name.
62.
I parked in the half full parking lot. Ever the optimist.
I was wearing flats, which slapped loudly on the swath of cobblestones that led up to the rear entrance of the restaurant. The night was clear and inviting, and I had a sudden surge of hope, and love of life. I felt that all was right in the world, or would be, and for the first time I actually believed it. Hell, I almost felt sorry for people who were not vampires, who did not get to experience this side of the night. I was lonely, sure, but that could always change. Loneliness is not permanent.
The cobblestone path ended in a short alley. The alley was kept immaculately clean, for it provided convenient access to the many shops and restaurants. At the moment, the alley was empty and dark. The lights were out. Or broken. I was willing to bet broken. I had long ago lost my fear of dark alleys. My footfalls reverberated off the high walls of the surrounding businesses. I passed behind the back entrance to a used bookstore, a comic book shop, a stationary store and a pet store. The Downtown Grill was the only establishment open at this hour. Music pumped from the restaurant's open door. Fire escapes crowded the air space above the alley like oversized cobwebs.
Sitting on the fire escape was a woman. Pointing a gun at me.
There was a flash, followed immediately by a muffled shot. Something exploded in my chest and I staggered backward. I kept my balance and looked down. Dark blood trickled from a hole in my dress. Next came two more muffled shots
25
