The Polanski Brothers: Home of Eternal Rest(6)

By: Dakota Cassidy

Adelaide Perkins had mentioned something about how impossible she thought it was that Alan might kill himself. Maybe the nice detective would go Sherlock Holmes Alan’s demise to death and leave the Polanskis alone.

A foreboding chill crept up her spine as she glanced out her window into the black ink of night.

And then again, maybe not, because look who just came to dinner.

Larkin McBride.

Joy closed her curtains, blocking out the persistent detective in his very obvious white car.

Idiot. He’s a real super sleuth.

What kind of detective sat in plain view of their suspect?

Joy’s phone rang and she rushed to grab it, hoping it might be her brother.


“The kind who wants to know what the hell is going on.”

“What?” she asked innocently, smothering a groan.

“You wanted to know what kind of detective sat in plain sight of their suspect. A super sleuth is what you thought me, I believe.”

“Detective, it’s late and I’m tired. If you don’t go away I’m going to report you to your superior.”

“Don’t vampires stay up all night long?”

“Not if they just worked a double shift.” He chuckled into the phone and an odd Dakota Cassidy

The Polanski Brothers: Home of Eternal Rest

electricity shifted Joy’s insides.

“The fact remains that we have some things to discuss.”

“Your vampire fixation, perhaps?”

“Yeah, my vampire fixation,” he said dryly. “Answer the door, Joy, or we will play cops and vampires because I’ll slap some cuffs on you and haul you to the station if I have to in order to get some answers.”

Joy didn’t have the time to protest before the line went dead and she heard her doorbell. Shitpissfuck! Joy threw on a robe and rolled her shoulders. He wasn’t going away. He’d made that clear. So she’d just have to empty her mind of everything. How did you do that anyway? If she didn’t play this right her family could be in danger and she refused to let that happen.

“Open the door, Joy,” Larkin demanded from behind the shiny oak of her apartment door.

Blowing out a breath, Joy flipped the locks and flung it open to a more casually dressed Larkin McBride.

He pushed his way past her and stood in the middle of her living room, all big and intimidating. A crisp pair of blue jeans molded to his muscled thighs, and his black T-shirt hugged his wide chest.

“I should make you show me your badge, Detective,” Joy said for lack of anything better to say. Besides her mouth was kinda dry and her legs were weak again.

He reached behind him and whipped out a flash of something shiny and held it up before he shoved it back in his jeans pocket. “Now, let’s cut the bullshit and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Joy brushed past him, making a beeline for her kitchen. She flipped on the light in the small kitchenette and went to the cabinet to find some coffee. She couldn’t really taste coffee per se. She kept it because her human friends seemed to like it, and right now it seemed like a very human thing to do. “Shouldn’t you be out hunting down the nearest all night donut shop?”

Larkin remained silent as he followed her into the kitchen and went to the Dakota Cassidy

The Polanski Brothers: Home of Eternal Rest

cabinet where she kept her coffee cups, presumptuously taking out one for him too.

Joy fought a smile. Pushy bastard.

“I’m a cop. We’re all pushy.”

Hookay, now this was bordering spooky. “Well, Mr. Pushy Cop, what do you hope to accomplish by forcing your way in here and drinking coffee you weren’t invited to drink?”

“An answer to my question.”

“Could you remind me again what the question was? Oh, wait, now I remember.

You want to know if I’m a vampire, right?” Joy snorted, hoping to put him on the defensive -- or at the very least make him think she thought he was one egg shy of a dozen. Only nut-jobs thought they were vamps, right?

“I want to know why I can read your every thought and yeah, I want to know if you’re a vampire.”

“I don’t know and no, but I play one on TV.” Joy turned her back to him to fill the coffee pot, then went to sit at her small table, purposely moving with an unhurried pace.