Page 52 of Dead of Night
“Then who are you texting?” Nana Pratt asked with suspicion.
“There’s someone else in town who might have information about The Corporation.” Someone else with excellent taste in food and music. It seemed like the ideal time to pay the cursed vampire a visit.
Otto Visconti lived in a suburban mansion on Walden Lane. With its white columns, parallel balconies, and black shutters, the house would have looked right at home two centuries ago. It was easy to imagine a horse and buggy awaiting its owner outside.
Heidi, Otto’s daytime housekeeper, answered the door and greeted me by name. “He’s in the study.” She didn’t escort me there this time. To my own surprise, I’d become a regular visitor.
As a result of a curse placed on Otto years ago, he couldn’t drink human blood, or he’d perish. An unintended consequence of the curse was the vampire’s vision, although he seemed to have adapted well to his change in circumstances.
The interior of the house tended to be dimly lit, but I knew my way to the study. Other than his bedroom, it was the only room Otto seemed to spend any time in, not that I was one to talk. I had a sprawling house with rooms I’d barely stepped foot in. Unlike Otto’s antique-filled rooms, however, my rooms were bare.
The sound of Bach drifted down the hall. I paused in the doorway to listen. Given Otto’s short stature and stubby fingers, it was a wonder the vampire could play as well as he did. I credited his preternatural skills.
He seemed to sense my arrival and stopped. “You’ve come back.”
“You always say that with a hint of surprise.”
“Can you blame me? I was sure once you located the missing Pratt girl and fulfilled your obligation to me, you’d have no more reason to visit.”
“What can I say, Otto? You’re an excellent host.”
“No arguments there.” He motioned to the table along the far wall. “As you can see, I had a meal prepared for your visit.”
I crossed the room to investigate my options. “You didn’t have to go to any trouble.”
“Why not? I have the means. Would you care for a glass of wine? I have a bottle of Chateau Margaux that’s dying to be uncorked.”
“Another time.” I needed to keep my head clear.
“Chess before our meal or after?” he asked.
“Before.” If I ate first, I’d be too sleepy to play.
Otto vacated the piano bench and made his way to the chessboard without the aid of a cane. He knew the layout of the study better than anybody.
“I left the pieces where they were last time,” he assured me, not that I remembered or cared. The chess was for his benefit.
I studied the board, willing to make an effort.
“You’re wearing the dreaded T-shirt and jeans again. Don’t you own anything else?” he asked good-naturedly.
“How on earth can you tell what I’m wearing?”
“The sound of the fabric as you move. Denim is stiffer and thicker. Your T-shirt is 100 percent cotton, but it has a certain smell.”
Damn vampire senses. “I like this outfit. It’s comfortable.”
“I hope you don’t plan to wear that delightful ensemble tomorrow. It would be terribly disrespectful.”
“To whom?”
“Charles Diamond, of course. Isn’t his funeral tomorrow?”
“It is, but I have no plans to attend.”
He moved a bishop diagonally. “Why not?”
“Why would I? I barely knew him.”