Just because someone's dead, it doesn't mean they can't tell you things

Disclaimer: Moonlight remains someone else's intellectual property. I wish they'd hurry up and put something new on our screens. In the meanwhile…

Just because someone's dead, it doesn't mean they can't tell you things. Look at me, for instance. So despite Josef's dismissive suggestion that I "work around" the fact that he decapitated the one guy that could probably give us a pretty good clue about why Jessica was killed, I'm going to do a little digging on the late, but not so lamented Rob. A full name would be a start.

I'm driving over to Rob's last known address now, the morning after the night before, and hoping that the Cleaner hasn't already gone for one of her more usual ways of disposing of vampire bodies – mysterious but devastating house fires, that curiously leave no remains. Or at least, I'm hoping to get there before she drops the match. Pulling up in the drive, it looks like I'm in luck.

The place is in a middle-of-the-road suburb – no gang fights in the street here, but no groomed and polished showbiz types either. Just well-manicured lawns with the odd plastic ornament in front of small, pastel-shaded houses. It's a strange place for one of us to live, given that in these places, people generally know what their neighbours are up to, but then again, no one suspects their neighbour of being a blood-sucking creature of the night. Even if they see something odd, they overlook it.

Luckily for my purposes, a tree in the drive blocks the view of my car from the road. I don't really want people to see I'm here, especially since the place is likely to become a fireball in the near future. Coming to the door, I take out my handy lock-picking set and select something appropriate. The lock gives way easily, with only two tumblers to crack. I guess Rob realised that the only people who'd be a threat to him wouldn't bother with locks and doors so much, not when they could smash through the wall to get at him. I don't want to make a scene though.

Stepping inside, the darkness of the lounge is a relief to my eyes, and I take off my shades to have a look round, shutting the door behind me. What are you looking for, Mick? The place has that unnaturally clean, tidy appearance that most of our homes have. No one eats late-night takeaway pizza in here and forgets to throw out the box, no one falls asleep on the couch watching TV, there is no dog to leave hair on the couch. From the junk mail on the floor, Rob's name is revealed to be McDonal, although that doesn't reveal much about his real identity. He's probably changed it, possibly more than once. Josef is my friend's original name; he's been around so long it doesn't matter, although when I first met him he was Charles. Wonder what I'll change my name to when I have to. I'm going to have to keep Mick. Mick St John, Private Investigator – it rolls off the tongue well. Too bad it'll have to go at some point.

Seems Josef was right about Rob's life, pre-vampire: on the wall there is an old NYPD badge in a glass wall case. If he ever had unaware visitors here, he probably passed it off as his pa's. I'm a little surprised to see a personal memento of Rob's former life displayed so prominently, with pride. Vampires often keep or collect stuff from their past – Josef has a record collection covering the past three hundred and fifty odd years that would be of immense interest to a musical historian, and Coraline has a collection of old children's toys – but they generally don't keep anything directly connected with their human selves, or at least they don't show them off. It's seen as false nostalgia, as well as a security risk. I don't keep anything like that because I don't want to be reminded of what I've lost, but this badge, tarnished by use and since cleaned up and polished before being put on show, makes me warm to Rob. And that brings to mind the only images I have of him. The proud, get-the-job-done cop jars violently with the bloodied monster shrugging apologetically in front of Josef last night.

Moving through into the kitchen, which is again spotless, I see Rob's refrigerator, one of those industrial sized ones, horizontal rather than upright. Taking a look inside, it's empty. The large amount of money I shelled out to get my own air-conditioned unit made by, let's say understanding, professionals seems so worth it now. I come up against another locked door. Picking its lock and opening it, it turns out to be the back door, as daylight streams in. Ow. The door creaks too, and now I look just like a B-movie vampire, cringing from the sun. Shame that at this moment, Rob's elderly neighbour and her cat happen to be sitting in a wicker chair on her porch, both looking right at me.

I resist the strong desire to put my shades on and step out into the light, smiling at her. "Hi there, seen Rob lately?" I ask casually.

"Why, not since last week," she answers, bewilderment at my direct question briefly overcoming her suspicion at seeing a strange guy emerge into her neighbour's back yard. "Who are you?"

"Ah, gee, I was hoping I'd catch him." I'm trying to quickly think of a plausible explanation for my presence. Damn, I said "gee" – no one's said that in a couple of decades. The pressure is getting to me because I didn't want to get seen, I don't want to and can't intimidate her without raising suspicions (unless I just kill her, but I rule that option out in ninety nine point nine percent of cases), plus I can see and smell the rising fear of her cat radiating towards me. It won't be long before even she picks up on it. A lie comes mercifully into my head: "I'm his brother and I've got some news for him – I'm getting married. She's called…" - a brief moment of hesitation a vampire would have noticed but luckily not her – "Carol. I was in town and thought I'd surprise him, celebrate over a beer." Stop giving out details – it sounds ridiculous I mentally yell at myself.

She, thank God, seems to be convinced. "How lovely, my congratulations. I'm afraid he's not in. He's probably working. He's normally on the night shift at the car lot, but I guess he's got more sociable hours today. Just your bad luck."

"Tell me about it. Thanks for your help. I'll try and come round later." I let myself back into the house just as the cat begins hissing. She presumes it's smelt another neighbour's dog. I lean back on the door. Ok, that was sloppy, and complicates matters a lot. Still, Rob seems pretty ordinary, for a vampire. There's nothing here to indicate why he'd rip the throat out of a willing freshie in a house belonging to the most powerful, rich and influential vampire on the west coast. Hell, possibly the country. Putting on the shades, I get out of there as quickly as I can. That's really pretty quick.

As soon as I get home, I call the Cleaner. "Can I suggest a less dramatic disappearance for Rob?" I ask her.

"Mick, always a pleasure. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine, but I was seen at his house earlier, and I don't want the police turning up and asking what I was doing there when the place strangely blows up tonight."

"Who saw you?"

There's no way I'm telling her that. "A passing motorist, but I think he saw my face." I pause, then add pre-emptively, "No, I didn't catch the auto's registration."

"Ok, no problem. Rob can just quietly disappear." Under her smooth professionalism, I can almost sense her disappointment. But a disappearance will be easy. No one will notice for a few weeks anyway, and even then no one will put up a fuss. If he's anything like most of us, Rob won't have anyone that cares enough to alert the human authorities. His name will just go into a police to-do list, and he'll never be found. "What were you doing there?"

"Client confidentiality, sorry. You of all people should understand that." She knows what I was doing there. What Josef did yesterday will have got all around the country among us by now. I'll get nothing more from her: "Bye." I put the phone down and put my feet up on the desk. Rob's place has been a let down, with precisely zilch new leads to follow. I won't tell Josef that though. But I will have to deal with him tomorrow when I start my investigation into yesterday's other victim. Jessica.

Author's note:Again, thanks for reading and reviewing – it makes my day when someone says this isn't complete rubbish!