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Are you finished? She spoke with a pronounced gringa accent.
Was this Lara?
I darted around the kitchen counter and paused at the
threshold to the hall.
Someone with a brisk and light feminine stride padded on
the carpet.
I jumped out, my vampire glare at full power.
My gaze stopped the young woman in her tracks. With short
blond hair, a wide Slavic face, and plump hips, she didn t look
anything like Roxy Bronze. Unless Lara liked to wear an EX-
PERT MAIDS apron for fun, this wasn t her.
I asked, Where s Lara Phillips?
The woman s aura bubbled with anxiety. She gurgled open-
mouthed, as if the words spun midway between her brain and
throat.
I tapped her head like it was a TV with a loose connection.
Not here, she said.
Then where?
Again with the gurgling. I tapped her head.
Not here, she said.
This could take all morning. The first maid might know.
X- RATED BLOODSUCKERS 1 87
I left the woman there, returned to the dining room, and
asked the other maid. Where is Lara?
The-señora-Mrs.-Phillips-is-at-her-lessons-which-she-goes-
to
Her Spanish came at me like water from a fire hydrant. I
pinched her lips shut. What lessons?
The maid mumbled.
I let go of her lips.
. . . like-I-was-telling-you-three-times-a-week
I pinched again. Sometimes vampire hypnosis was a pain
in the ass. The blonde couldn t get one word out without me
thonking her head, and the maid jabbered like she was trying
for a world speed record.
I started into the maid s eyes to strengthen my control.
Don t say a word. Carefully, I released her lips and she kept
quiet.
I didn t see anything in the dining room that could help me.
I went to the kitchen, which was outfitted with every culinary
gadget and notion, as if Lara had binged at Williams-Sonoma.
I d never seen designer dish detergent before. A wall calendar
had names and telephone numbers scribbled over it, but noth-
ing gave a clue where Lara was today. Colorful magnets held
coupons and recipes to the refrigerator door. A wipe board
listed grocery items, but nothing said: If you re looking for me
on Monday morning I m at . . .
In the living room I sorted through a wire basket on a console
table containing unopened mail: bills and junk. So far I hadn t
found anything out of the ordinary, and that was the problem. I
sat on the edge of an armchair to decide what to do next.
What kind of lessons would a divorced single mom be tak-
ing? Yoga? Gourmet cooking? Or did the maid mean school
1 88 MARI O ACEVEDO
classes like college? Maybe this was a dead end. Was I wasting
my time or should I come back?
Copies of Journey with God magazine sat on the coffee table.
The subscription label carried Lara s name. Lara attended Rev-
erend Dale Journey s church? The same church I d seen Dr.
Niphe sneak to?
My stink-o-meter activated again but I couldn t make a con-
nection between Lara, Niphe, and Journey.
I flipped through one issue. The centerfold listed the
monthly calendar for the church campus activities. Circled in
red ink was a Gospel aerobics class for women only, Jumping
for Jesus, offered 9 A.M. Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.
Was she taking these classes? Could she be there now?
I approached the maid and asked, Is Lara at Journey s
church?
Sí-at-la-iglesia-she-teaches-I-should-exercise-too-but-with-
work-who-can-find-the-time-I-am-getting-fat-maybe-I-will-start
I clamped my fingers on the maid s lips to contemplate this
news in silence. Lara Phillips formerly Lara Krieger, sister to
Freya Krieger, a.k.a. Roxy Bronze taught exercise classes at
Journey s church?
Niphe and Journey. Add Lara to the equation.
Did Lara have something to do with her sister s murder?
The implication was so crazy that even I, cynical private detec-
tive Felix Gomez, had problems wrapping my thoughts around
the idea. If she had, why? How?
Carmela, the blonde whispered from the hall. Her vam-
pire hypnosis had worn off.
I rolled up the magazine and shoved it into my trouser
pocket. I had learned enough here. Time to find Lara Phillips
and listen to what she had to say.
X- RATED BLOODSUCKERS 1 89
C HAPT ER 27
- -- --
On the way to Altadena, I wondered about this latest tangle.
Roxy Bronze s sister, Lara Phillips, taught exercise classes at
Journey s church. Was she also a parishioner? Did she have
anything to do with Reverend Journey? Or with Dr. Niphe?
Their names moved like mathematical variables.
A plus B plus C equals what?
I reached Loma Linda Drive. Journey s church looked as
exaggerated and gaudy in the day as it had at night. The rows
of windows, as precisely arranged as facets on a rhinestone, re-
flected the glare of the California sun against the craggy back-
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