Kate was thankful that the next night was unremarkable. The bodies from apartment 209 had been 'suitably handled', and the one with the torn throat had been identified as Mike Walters, the man listed on the rental agreement. The other body had been identified as John Hatcher, a man with several arrests for driving under the influence and drug possession, and suspected but not proven to have connections with a local prostitution ring. The footprints had been identified as ladies size seven, which matched the size of the missing wife, Ada Walters. The knives stuck into Hatcher's body had been determined to have a smudged up mass of fingerprints, many of them belonging to Mike Walters, and smaller prints guessed but not confirmed as belonging to Ada Walters.
Speculation as to what Hatcher had been doing there was ugly. Especially since they had found a cell phone on Hatcher's body that indicated a call from M Walters received about an hour before the estimated time of death.
Most of the speculation about where Ada might be was ugly, running along lines of dead from injuries from a big fight, beaten and hiding, or beaten to the point of snapping, killing them both and now in hiding. Kate was fairly certain Ada had been the vampire, and was wondering how many other vampires might be involved. Obviously, there had been one to turn Ada, but had that vampire kept her, or just turned her and left her on her own? How long had Ada been a vampire? What did Ada intend to do now that her husband was very dead?
Other than colorful speculation, the next few nights passed without anything particularly noteworthy. There was a minor matter of a stolen car turning out to be the exact same model and color as the car belonging to the person who had taken it. A matter of a woman giving her kitties marijuana mixed with catnip 'to settle them.' Various thefts, drunks, traffic violations, brawls, and theft reports.
Thursday, Kate arrived at the station to be handed a thick envelope. "You're new, so you get to make the station run. Take those to the Ghostbusters, in the old firehouse…"
Kate nodded, scribbling down the directions to the building that housed the Ghostbusters. O'Rourke had told her to expect something like this, and she had been trying to learn a bit more about them, in hopes of being able to prepare herself. She didn't feel prepared, but at least the directions should be enough to get her there.
She felt nervous walking into the large open area of the building. There was a red haired woman at a desk across the floor, and one heavily modified van sitting inside, behind one of the doors designed to allow the fire-trucks to go in and out of the building. The fireman's pole was still there, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. As she walked towards the receptionist, Kate wondered why nobody at the police station had explained the proper procedure for the 'station runs' delivering papers to the Ghostbusters.
The receptionist looked up, red rimmed glasses having slipped down her nose, and asked, "May I help you, officer?"
Holding up the large manila envelope, Kate explained, "I've been sent to deliver this packet of reports from the police station. They didn't mention if there was a particular procedure."
"A lot of them just toss the envelopes my way and run," the woman snickered. "It's a bit funny."
Kate pictured seasoned police officers, men like her father, hurling the envelopes at this woman and running out the door. She could feel her lips twitching as she fought the smile, "How undignified."
The other truck door opened, with a heavily modified station wagon pulling in and parking at an angle. The doors opened and two men in tan uniforms spilled out. One of them looked a bit familiar, though he was holding a rag at his neck. The other was a black man, who looked their way and shouted, "Janine! We need the first aid kit right away!"
As he helped the other man towards the desk, the brown haired Ghostbuster was mumbling, "Not a ghost. Great legs. Not a ghost… she bit me."
Kate had a suspicion forming. "Did you have someone calling you about a woman named Ada Walters?"
"Yeah, one of her friends. Said Ada's ghost had been showing up and asking to let her in. Romeo over here tried to talk to Ada and…" he shook his head. "Not like any ghost I've seen on this job."
"Here, I've got the kit," Janine the receptionist had a red bag in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. "Let me see what you've got under there… and tell me it wasn't one of those dirty rags you leave in the car."
"Sure, Janine, it wasn't one of those rags," Venkman mumbled, letting his hand move away from the rag at his neck. "What sort of ghost has teeth?"
Janine pulled the rag away, dropping it to the floor. She dabbed at his neck with the damp cloth, and then froze, "Those are some teeth marks…"
Kate moved closer, looking at Venkman's neck. Right at the join of neck and shoulder was a vicious bite mark, with a smudge of dark pink lipstick over the top. "That isn't from a ghost, it's a vampire bite."
"But there's no such thing as vampires! It's a primitive superstition resulting from a few diseases, funky decomposition patterns…" Venkman started, wincing as Janine dabbed some sort of ointment on the bite.
"And ghosts were considered to be an equally primitive superstition coming from unresolved grief and fear of the dark," Kate retorted. "That superstition left teeth marks on your neck, I'd consider that pretty strong evidence."
"And if you say vampire, what would the vampire have looked like?" the black man, his uniform patch reading Zeddemore, asked.
"Ada's medical file described her as five six, brown hair. She was probably smiling, maybe being a bit flirty trying to get someone to invite her inside. I'm guessing she didn't like something that Mr. Smooth Operator said, then her eyes would have turned yellow, heavy brow ridges, sharp teeth. She clearly went for the throat. He's luckier than her husband was, she tore his right out," Kate replied.
"Pretty much dead on, though you didn't mention the matching pink painted fake nails," Zeddemore shook his head. "Vampires. Huh."
"So what do we do about a vampire, break out the garlic and the big, fancy crosses?" Venkman muttered, holding still as Janine taped a gauze pad to his neck while muttering about shots and rabies.
"I just went through this with my new partners at the station, Kate sighed. "You can kill a vampire by beheading, fire, sunlight, or a wooden stake through the heart. Crosses keep them away, holy water burns, garlic does nothing. They can't some into someone's home without an invitation," Kate paused. "Ummm. Do you have someone sleep here in case of late calls? That might work to keep them from being able to come in here uninvited."
"I'll show you where I sleep anytime, gorgeous," Venkman offered with a grin, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
"No personal interest," Kate retorted.
"You said fire kills vampires," Zeddemore had turned and was looking at a couple bulky backpacks against the wall. "What about a blast from the proton packs?"
Kate looked over at the objects, assuming that those were the 'proton packs' in question. "Those are what you had at the liquor store? Those would probably work to kill a vampire, but I'd suggest having a wooden stake or something as a back-up plan."
"So why would Ada be trying to get an invite to her pal's house?"
"Dinner. Maybe a bit of torture and then dinner," Kate shrugged. "Vampires are evil. They eat people."
"How about you come over here and give us the longer version of everything we need to know about vampires?" Zeddemore asked, gesturing her towards a worn looking tan couch.
Kate sighed. It looked like tonight would be long and frustrating.
End part 8.