So naturally I went with the bad idea.
“Seriously?” Rachel crossed her arms to glare at me. “You’re just going to ask him?”
“It’s what I do.” I shrugged. “Reporter? Detective? It’s all about asking questions. And sometimes running away.”
“Yeah.” She dropped her arms. “Okay. I’m coming with you. He can’t zap both of us with his ring at once. I hope.”
I’ve learned not to argue with Rachel about stuff like this. Or anything, really. “At least you can stop me from leaving any more $40 tips.”
Which was how we ended up back at the Twisted Tavern again that night.
We went early, before it got too crowded on a Thursday night. Dustin wore a Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, and we spotted the ring on his finger as he set beers in front of us. “Good to see you guys again.” He gave Rachel a wink.
“Yeah.” I set some cash on the bar—for our beers, and a reasonable tip. “Got a minute to talk?”
Puzzled, he glanced down at two guys at the other end. “Let me check. Just a minute.”
We watched Dustin refill their glasses. Then he returned. “What can I do for you?”
“That ring.” I pointed. “Your uncle didn’t give it to you. You stole it.”
“And we know what it does,” Rachel added.
Dustin blinked. “Damn it.” Then he yanked the ring from his finger and slammed it on the bar. “All right. Take it. Zach’s an asshole anyway.”
Wait, what? This was too easy “You’re just giving it back?”
“Why not?” He rubbed his finger. “I mean, it was fun for a while, but it’s not worth any trouble. Do you guys want another beer or something?”
“Hang on.” Rachel cut in. “How did you figure out what the ring could do?”
He leaned back, thinking. “I asked the manager for a night off. I think I said something like, ‘Can you give me tomorrow night off?’ and she just said yeah. It was weird. Then a customer started leaving me a lousy tip, and I said, ‘Come on, give me a little bit more,’ and he did.” He glanced up and down the bar and lowered his voice. “It was a couple days before I tried it on a girl.”
I was surprised—and a little impressed—that Rachel didn’t reach across the bar to break his fingers right then. Instead she grabbed the ring, slipped it on a finger, and smiled. “Ooh. Feels warm. Okay.” She pointed it at Dustin. “Tell us what you used it for.”
His eyes grew blank, and he spoke slowly. “A night off from work. A bigger tip from a jerk. A girl named Trish. Free tacos from Taco Joe. A girl named Ellen. A free cab ride—”
“Wait a minute. What about . . .” I held Rachel’s arm. “What did you do with it last night?”
“A big tip.”
“Nothing else?” No murder?
“I gave it to Rick.”
Huh? “Who’s Rick?”
Again, slowly. “My friend. Rick Vance.”
Rachel and I looked at each other. Then Rachel took the ring off, and I stuffed it into my pocket. “Who’s Rick Vance?”
Dustin rubbed his head. “What? Uh, he’s a waiter down the street. He comes in every night or so for a brandy. I never charge him.”
Brandy. I’d seen him. “He wears a black cap? Knit? Leather jacket?”
Dustin nodded, puzzled. “That’s him.”
“So you lend him the ring sometimes?”
“Yeah. How do you—” He hesitated, looking at Rachel. “Oh. Right. Yeah, I let him take it sometimes. So what? He always gives it back.”
I didn’t exactly want to tell him his friend was a serial killer. Especially since it was still mostly speculation. Okay, more than a little, but nothing I could take to the cops or to court.
“Don’t tell him about this when he comes in.” I stood up, my beer untouched. “Come on.”
Rachel got up as Dustin spread his hands apologetically. “Tell Zach I said sorry.”
“He’s in the hospital. Stroke.”
“Oh. Nuts.” Dustin sighed. “Well, have a good night.”
In the car Rachel buckled her belt. “Now what?”
I planted my hands on the wheel, but didn’t strap in. “We wait for Vance.”
Rachel argued. Then she stopped talking to me, which was worse. We sat next to each other, watching the bar’s entrance, for an hour and a half.
“How long?” Rachel scratched her nose.
I checked the car’s clock. “Just until closing time.” Another 20 minutes.
She sighed. “Glad I didn’t drink any of that beer.”
At least she was talking to me again. After a minute she asked, “So what’s your plan?”
That’s what we’d been arguing about. “Like I said, I just have to know.”
“Then what?”
This time I didn’t answer. Mostly because I didn’t know.
A few minutes later I spotted him—leather jacket, black knit cap, black mask. This time I saw he was wearing gloves.
I opened my door and pulled up my mask. “You can wait here—”
“Like hell.” She pushed her door open. “I have to go to the bathroom now.”
The bar was more crowded. I hoped that meant no one would overhear us. Vance sat at a corner, his gloves next to his brandy, his mask down, talking to Dustin. Who was shaking his head and looking nervous.
“Rick Vance?” I eased between him and a guy chatting with friends while watching TV.
He turned his head. “Yeah?”
“I’d like to talk to you about the ring.”
Dustin backed away.
Vance picked up his brandy. “What ring?”
I held my hand up. “This.”
The ring was on my finger. Rachel was right—it felt warm. Powerful.
Vance blinked. Rachel stood behind him, a hand in her jacket pocket on her stun gun. In case something went wrong.
The ring pulsed on my finger. I licked my lips under my mask. “What did you do last night?”
He looked into my eyes. “I made a guy stab himself to death.”
“How many people have you done it to?”
His eyes clouded for a moment. “Five.”
“Why?”
Vance’s lips slowly curled into a vampiric smile, while his eyes stayed dead. “Try it yourself.”
The ring seemed to tighten around my finger, burning against my skin. My heart started rising, faster and harder. I shivered.
Then Rachel leaned around Vance and punched me. Hard. I jostled the guy behind me, then jerked forward, catching my breath. “Sorry.” I twisted the ring off my finger and nodded to Rachel. “Thanks.”
“I thought I’d have to hit him, not you.” She crossed her arms. “You okay?”
“Hey!” Vance grabbed for my hand. “That’s mine! Give it back—”
Rachel yanked at her pocket. He froze as the stun gun pressed against his butt. I guess she didn’t think the electrodes would penetrate his leather jacket. “What the hell?”
“Don’t make me press the stud on this.” Rachel grinned. “I’m not sure how much it hurts.”
Dustin came up. “Hey, settle down. Don’t make me call the cops.”
The guy behind me, and his friends, were looking at us, along with a few other people. “Yeah, let’s go.” I slapped some money on the bar for Vance’s brandy.
Outside we waited as a car rolled by. With a deep breath I slid the ring on again. Rachel moved away from Vance, next to me. Probably in case she had to stun my ass.
Vance glared. “Now what?”
I held the ring out. Again it seemed to wrap itself around my finger with a warm pulse. I cleared my throat. “You got a knife on you?”
He reached around for his back pocket. I winced as the switchblade snicked open.
“No. Put it away.” Another deep breath as I tried to focus. “Go home. Call the police. Tell them what you did. All of it.”
He stepped away. Without a word he turned and headed up the street.
I pulled the ring off and resisted the urge to hurl it into the shadows. Someone might find it. Instead I handed it to Rachel. “You keep it. Until we can give it back.”
“Or throw it into the fires of Mt. Doom.” She watched Vance until he crossed the street. “You really think the cops will do anything to him?”
I shook my head. “I’ll call Sharpe, but even if his knife matches the other ones . . . I can’t see a way for them to make any serious trouble for him. But I had to do something. Get it on the record. If he goes on and kills someone else . . .” I shuddered at the thought. Maybe the ring had given him a taste for blood? Or sparked an urge he already had? Would I be responsible for any murders he committed on his own from here on out?
Rachel took my hand. She can’t read minds, but she could see my face. “At least you didn’t make him do it himself.”
“It crossed my mind.” I’d staked vampires and sent demons back to hell. And yeah, I was indirectly responsible for some human deaths, which kept me awake too often. “Cold-blooded murder, though? Not my style.”
“I would have had to zap you.” She patted her jacket.
“You would have enjoyed it, right?”
I could see her smirk through the mask. “You know me too well.”
“It’s why we haven’t killed each other.”
“Yet.” She turned to the car. “Let’s go home. I’ve got two more episodes of The Queen’s Gambit to watch.”
Rachel and I watched Alex put the ring back into the case and lock it. “Safe and sound.” She sighed through her mask. “Thank you.”
I’d worked on Staley’s invoice this morning, but in the end he owed me so little after the retainer than I marked it “paid’ before emailing it. I hoped Rachel didn’t find out—although she does the same thing with her clients sometimes.
“How’s Mr. Staley?” Rachel asked.
“Better today. Especially when I told him you got the ring back.” She held up a thumb.
“Did you tell him, uh, everything?”
Alex shook her head. “Just that Dustin gave it back without any trouble. He closed his eyes for a minute or two, and I thought he feel asleep, but then he looked up and said something like, ‘Good.’”
I sighed with relief. “Yeah. Well, thanks for your help.”
“No problem.” She began to reach a hand out, then stopped and laughed. The three of us awkwardly bumped elbows.
I lingered in the room while Rachel and Alex chatted in the hall. The cat walked around my feet, sniffing at my legs. My eyes drifted down the shelves—the bell, the bowl, the tea set, along with a small bronze horse, a wooden cup, a silver thimble—but my eyes went relentlessly back to the ring. Locked behind the glass.
My hand trembled. My fingers twitched. I lifted my arm without thinking about it and pressed my hand against the glass, staring at the ring.
“Tom?” Rachel in the doorway. “You coming?”
I jerked my hand back. “Y-yeah. Coming.” Trumpy followed me to the door.
She held my hand as we walked to the car. “I saw that. Was it calling to you? Your preciousss?”
“Shut up.” I squeezed her fingers. “But . . . yeah. Good thing you’re here.”
“You got that right.” She kissed my cheek.
I smiled. Still thinking about the ring.
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