Part seven

Meryl had several problems in her life but disorganization was not one of them. She was already down in the saloon before nine, working on her second cup of coffee and scribbling notes on a legal pad. Her erstwhile partner was still taking a shower and she hadn't heard a single noise escape from Vash's room all morning, so she presumed he was still dead to the world.

She first made a rough map of the town, marking the areas where each of the victims had been found, then wrote out a quick report summing up the case thus far. Hardly necessary for her work at Bernardelli, but it helped get her thoughts straightened out. Unfortunately, she didn't have much to write about – without any witnesses, it was mostly assumptions and hypotheses. All the victims were found with their throats ripped, showing little or no signs of struggle. All were killed at night. Both of those facts told her very little. The only significant detail so far was the missing blood; she was hardly an expert but she was pretty sure if you got your throat cut there was usually a really big mess afterwards. But thus far, the corpses had had few bloodstains surrounding them. Which meant they had been killed, then moved to a different location or…

Or the killer had taken the blood.

Meryl shuddered. She didn't really want to think about that but she diligently included it in her notes anyway. Followed by a list of suspects which really only consisted of one person: Vash's mysterious blonde. Vash hadn't seemed to think she was actually their killer and Meryl was inclined to agree with him; personal objections aside, she couldn't deny he was a good judge of character. Still, the attack-first-and-ask-questions-later introduction made her a little wary. Not to mention the girl's bizarre choice in personal protection.

Who the hell carried around a sharpened stick in their pocket?

She chewed on the end of her pen and skimmed back over what she'd just written. Almost as an afterthought, she scribbled in the margin Relation to Monev the Gale?

Well, one could never tell.

She frowned over the woefully small list of evidence in front of her. She wished her father was there – he had been a lawman back home for years. Hell, he had even faced a pattern killer himself. It had taken a special task force made up of three county sheriff's offices to finally catch their man. Her father rarely spoke about the incident and she suspected he would like nothing better than to forget that the entire event had ever happened. But at least he knew what he was doing in these cases. She had a few ideas, and after spending three months on Vash's trail, she had developed some skill as a detective. But for the most part, she was still playing this by ear. She didn't have the correct background to perform a more effective investigation.

Why couldn't she have just taken her own advice and stayed away from the entire situation?

"Good morning, Mister Vash!"

"Morning! Your partner around?"

"Yep! She's down here for breakfast."

Ah yes. Her fellow investigators. No wonder they weren't getting anywhere.

Millie sat down next to her, her own coffee already in hand. Vash slid in across from them, munching happily on a donut. For some reason, he was wearing his sunglasses indoors. Meryl raised an eyebrow. "Too bright in here for you?"

"Nope, they're a fashion statement," Vash grinned around his food and took another bite of donut.

"Really?" Millie wondered, sounding a little confused. "I thought it was because of that big bruise, Mister Vash."

"Bruise?" Meryl blinked at the outlaw. His smile dimmed a little and he ducked his head.

"It's nothing, really. Besides," he perked up. "I think they make me look kind of cool." When that failed to get smile out of her, he sighed and removed them, revealing one colorful black eye.

Meryl hissed out her next breath. "Ouch. Was that the girl from last night?"

"What girl from last night?" Millie asked. She turned to Vash. "You got beat up by a girl?"

"No!" he protested, then added sheepishly. "Well, she wasn't an ordinary girl. She was a super-girl!"

Meryl rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. What else does she do, catch bullets in her teeth?"

Vash grunted and popped his glasses back on, stuffing the rest of the donut in his mouth and slumping down sulkily in his seat. Meryl sighed and looked over her legal pad again. "Well, I've got all the information we have. Which is almost nothing, but at least we have something to start with."

Millie leaned over her shoulder. "Wow. You have really neat writing."

"Uh, gee, thanks, Millie."

"You're welcome," the girl smiled and continued to scan the page. "Huh."

"What?"

"Oh, it's probably nothing," Millie shook her head and laughed lightly. "I'm being silly."

"Millie, at this point, I'm ready to try any ideas."

"We-ell, promise not to laugh?"

"I promise."

"You too, Mister Vash."

The outlaw solemnly raised his left hand and placed his right over his heart. "I swear not to laugh."

"Okay," Millie took a large breath. "When we were little, my big brother – my *big* big brother, not my little big brother – well, he used to tell scary stories to us at night. And when Meryl wrote everything down, it sounded just like a vampire story he made up."

"Vampire?" Vash blinked.

"Sure, you know, like Dracula," she raised her hands, hooking them like claws. "Grr."

Meryl stared down at the paper in her hand. Slowly, she began underling certain phrases and muttering to herself. "Oh my god. That actually makes sense."

"What makes sense?" Vash still looked lost.

"All the old myths," Meryl explained. "The girl you were fighting, was there anything else about her you remember? Anything that stood out?"

He frowned as he thought about it. "Well, she was wearing a cross, silver. Actually, that was how I noticed her, when the streetlight caught the metal."

"Right, fits the pattern. Crosses were traditionally used to ward off the undead," Meryl nodded. "Wow. This guy is definitely bad news."

"We're chasing a vampire?"

"Oh, please." She waved her hand dismissively. "That's all stories, stuff left over from Earth. But it's possible our killer *thinks* he's a vampire. It would fit that type of mentality – blood, death, power, and who doesn't want to live forever? Even if only in infamy."

"I wouldn't." Vash answered softly. She frowned briefly at him. The July incident had happened twenty-three years ago and she'd always wondered why he looked so young…but she immediately rejected the idea. While July had been attributed to him, it was obvious he wasn't old enough to have destroyed the town. She was starting to suspect Vash the Stampede was less a man and more a title – easier to take the name of an established outlaw than try to make one for yourself. Of course, why the mostly sweet-tempered man in front of her would've inherited such a name was beyond her.

Besides, it wasn't like she had seen him suddenly sprout fangs or turn into a bat. And Vash was a bona-fide sun-worshipper. She was being ridiculous.

She was spared further ruminations on the subject by the arrival of Sheriff Buck. She hoped he was there for something other than her small group, but, no, he headed right for their table. She sighed – she just knew this was somehow all Vash's fault without even having to ask. She had never had any trouble with the law before meeting him.

Buck sauntered up, hand relaxed against the butt of his gun. It wasn't a threat, but it was a promise to end trouble quickly if they caused it. "Morning, Ms. Strife."

"Good morning, Sheriff," she nodded. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Well, there was an incident last night," he drawled. "Seems there was some scuffling on the rooftops. Tall man and a short girl. You or your partners here wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Vash and Millie opened their mouths at the same time and Meryl kicked them both swiftly under the table. Millie couldn't help a small yelp but Vash kept silent. While Buck glared suspiciously at her partner out of the corner of his eye, Meryl just smiled pleasantly. "No. Why would we?"

"Let's just say some of you seem to be matching the descriptions of our suspects," Buck answered evenly. "And I think my views on outsiders have already been made clear to you."

"Well, I was in my room all night doing paperwork. Millie was with me." She indicated the taller girl. This was all true. "And I can assure you, Mr. Price here would *never* pick a fight with a girl." This was also true. Another kick under the table kept Vash from even opening his mouth this time.

"Guess I'll just have to take your word for it. For now." The sheriff did not look happy. His eyes drifted towards Vash, who simply stared blankly back from behind his yellow sunglasses. "Mr. Price, we ever meet before?"

Vash tilted his head to the side, as if thinking long and hard about it. "Don't reckon I've ever been by this way before. I would've remembered a nice, little town like this."

The two girls nearly fell off their chairs. The change from serious outlaw to good ol' boy was subtle, but Vash had slipped into his role with surprising ease, hitting the correct drawl perfectly. While Meryl gaped, the sheriff seemed more at ease. "Sorry, son. You look familiar, is all."

"S'okay." Vash shrugged. "I get that a lot. Must have one of those faces." He had his relaxed, goofy grin on, all laid-back charm and easy-going nature. He leaned his chair back a bit on its hind legs to emphasize the effect. Even Meryl, who had been following him for months now, was finding it hard to believe there were sixty billion double-dollars on his head.

Well, actually, she had trouble believing that anyway.

"Guess so," Buck agreed. "You folks stay low now, though. I don't need anymore trouble here, we clear?"

"Crystal, Sheriff." Meryl nodded solemnly.

"Alright, you have a good day." He touched the brim of his hat and tilted his head towards them. "Ma'ams, sir."

As Buck left, Meryl tried to release the tension in her shoulders with little luck. She threw a look at Vash and gave him another kick.

"Ow! Why do you keep kicking me?" he whimpered, his previous façade vanished.

"What was going on with the 'I'm jus' one of the boys' act?" she demanded.

"You were the one who said to play it safe," he grumbled, rubbing his bruised shins. "Besides, why am I suddenly Mr. Price?"

"Well, I couldn't exactly say Vash the Stampede was in town during a manhunt, could I?" she pointed out. "The sheriff thinks you're Vincent Price from Bernardelli. I hope to keep it that way."

"Vincent?" He frowned. "I don't look like a Vincent."

"What difference does that make?"

"Well, jeez, if suddenly I have to go around with an alias shouldn't I at least get some say in what it is?"

"Look, it was just the first name that came to mind, alright? You were sulking at the time."

"I do *not* sulk!"

"So what do you call holing yourself up in your room for hours on end?"

"I prefer to think of it as brooding."

"Oh please."

Millie watched the volley of words fly back and forth between the two of them, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup. It was always funny to see Mister Vash and Meryl argue like this when it was so obvious – to her at least – how much they liked each other. Well, it wasn't really her place to interfere in people's lives, so she chose to keep silent during their verbal battles. She was sure they'd figure things out eventually.

But she hoped they would finish berating each other soon.

They certainly had a lot of work to do today.

End part seven