Moonlight, The Next Chapter: Darkness
Chapter 15
The Plot Thickens…and So Does Blood
Intro song: Honesty, Billy Joel
Beth smoothed the last layer of gauze in place on Mick's chest, biting her lower lip in concentration as she worked.
His head bent down to watch her, the vampire fought the urge to grab those hands and move them lower... His lips twitched in amusement as he imagined the reaction of his best friend, sitting across the room. Wouldn't Josef just love that!
"Okay, done!" Beth announced, standing back to study her handiwork. "What do you think, Josef? Does that look like enough bandages?"
"He looks like a damn mummy," Kostan responded gloomily.
"Good! Can you move, Mick?"
"Not much," the vampire admitted, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. "All this will certainly remind me not to."
"That's the general idea." Beth smiled triumphantly. "That - and making sure Carl has no reason to see your 'scar'." She scooped up the leftover pieces of gauze and tape, depositing them in the trash bag she'd dropped on the floor next to the couch when she started working on the vampire. Hands on hips, she studied the tableau in front of her.
Beth had spent the last half hour staging Mick - and his living space. It was so important for him to have the appearance of a severely-injured invalid – Carl's life literally depended on it. She wanted to be sure they hadn't missed anything. There were used glasses sitting on the coffee table, a stack of books and magazines on the floor, a walker parked in a corner - and, most importantly, a heavily-bandaged vampire now sprawled on the couch in a bathrobe and sweat pants, propped up on pillows.
A bandaged vampire who was extremely distressed over the clutter in his living space...
"Don't you think this is overkill, Beth?" Mick pleaded unhappily, taking in the jumble she had created. His hands itched to clean up the mess.
Guessing his thoughts, Beth grinned down at him, crossing her arms. "Oh, cool it, Mr. OCD. Your place is way too neat anyway."
"You are enjoying this," he said accusingly.
"Uh-huh." She leaned down to kiss him, a quick peck turning into a lengthy kiss when he couldn't resist grabbing her.
"Okay, lovebirds, break it up." Josef cocked his head, listening for a moment. "I think your company is here." He caught Mick's eye. "For Davis' sake, I hope you're a damn good actor."
The tension in the room was palpable as a knock sounded at the door. With a last glance around the room, Beth stuffed the bag with bandage remnants in the trashcan under the kitchen counter, and then ran to open the door. "Carl!" the two vampires heard her exclaim as she threw the door open wide. "Come in."
Grimacing at his friend, Josef rose and turned to meet the guest.
Davis's eyes widened at the sight of Josef Kostan. When he'd heard that the billionaire had taken Mick under his care after the ambush, the detective had researched him extensively. You shouldn't be that surprised, he told himself. After all, the two must be very close for Kostan to have marshaled the resources he apparently had in order to save the injured P.I.
"This is-" Beth began.
"Josef Kostan," Carl jumped in. "Yes, I recognize you from your pictures, Mr. Kostan." The detective dumped the boxes he had carried in with him on the kitchen island before hurrying forward to grasp the billionaire's hand. "It's a great pleasure to meet you. Thank you for everything you did for Mick."
The startled vampire responded with a handshake. "It was my great pleasure to help," he said dryly.
Good at reading people from his years as a detective, Davis dropped his hand quickly. "I'm sorry if I sounded condescending. I meant that sincerely..." Flustered and angry with himself, he turned to Beth.
Exasperated, the young woman shook her head. "Don't mind Josef, Carl. His sense of humor can be a little...biting." She glared at Kostan accusingly.
Oh no you didn't! The elder vampire had to fight back a smile. One certainly had to admire Beth Turner's spunk... "Yes, don't mind me, Mr. Davis. Beth's right." His lips twitching, he glanced over to observe her reaction as he added, "My sense of humor has been known to draw blood." His smile broadened as she shook her head at him in exasperation.
"I am glad to meet you. Truly." His dark brown eyes met Carl's, carefully keeping his tone neutral. "I've been curious about the man for whom my good friend was apparently willing to give up his life."
"I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you, Mr. Kostan. There's nothing out of the ordinary about me."
"Hey, that makes it sound like I'm a poor judge of character," a weak voice protested from the couch behind them.
"Mick!" Carl exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting to see you out of bed!" He rushed over to the prone man on the leather couch, carefully taking one of the P.I.'s hands in both of his, his eyes full of concern. "How are you doing?"
"I'm good," Mick said. "Help me sit up, will you?" He pretended to be struggling to get upright as Carl gently held his shoulders. With the detective looking the other way, he met Beth's wide blue eyes...and winked.
If I didn't know better... Beth thought. Playing her role, she hurried to help the detective sit the 'injured' man upright, his bathrobe falling open in the process, displaying her handiwork.
"Damn, Mick, you look like a mummy!" the detective exclaimed.
"Thank you," Josef chimed in. "I said exactly the same thing when I saw him." He caught Beth's withering stare and hastily added, "Of course, it's for his own good. If he rips open those stitches..." He shrugged. "What was that movie? Alien?"
Carl couldn't help himself; he guffawed. Mick joined in, keeping the charade going by grabbing a pillow to cradle against his chest. He had an all-too-vivid memory of when he'd actually needed it.
"Josef!" Beth snapped, throwing an irate look at Davis. "That's not funny!"
"Sorry, Beth!" all three men chorused before breaking into laughter again. Playing the role of an invalid to the hilt, Mick threw in a groan for good measure.
Davis immediately stopped laughing and squatted down beside the couch so that he was eye-level with the man who had saved his life. "Are you really doing okay, Mick? You look damn good for someone whose insides were on the outside just a few weeks ago - even with all this." He nodded toward the thick bandages covering Mick's torso.
"I'm doing okay." Mick remembered to inject a note of weakness into his voice. "Moving kinda slow, but I'm good. Definitely much better than the last time we saw each other." An image flashed through his mind of Carl's face when he first took in the extent of Mick's injuries in the desert. He could feel Davis's hands pressing down on his, trying to hold his intestines in place, the pain, the excruciating pain…
"I can't believe you're moving at all." Davis took Mick's hand again and shook it, jarring the vampire back to the present. "I want to thank you for saving my life, man. I don't know why you did it, but I'm sure that if you hadn't-" Carl's voice was choked and he had to stop to get his emotions under control before continuing. "Well, if you hadn't, I wouldn't still be breathing."
Mick could feel the lieutenant's very real anguish and was genuinely sorry for the man. "You'd have done the same for me," he said awkwardly.
Before Carl could respond, Josef broke in. "Guys, this is really touching and all, but wouldn't a stiff drink be a better way to celebrate?"
"I agree - and I'm buying." Davis bounced to his feet. "That tall box over there is some pretty good scotch." He looked down at the P.I. "I seemed to remember you had a liking for it."
"He's not the only one," Kostan added, his dark eyes glowing with interest as he watched the detective walk over to the island and grab the box he'd left there.. Scotch drinker, huh? This cop might not be all bad.
Carl extracted a large bottle of scotch from the box and set it down on the coffee table in front of the injured man.
Mick couldn't help but whistle. "Damn... Balvenie Fifty. Fifty year old single-malt?" He smiled broadly. "Almost worth getting shot for that."
"Almost," Beth interjected drily.
"Hell, I'd have bought you a damn bottle; you didn't have to go get shot to get it." Carl grinned as he twisted the foil off the cap. You know, I had my first hit of scotch when I was sixteen. Wasn't nearly as good quality as this, though."
"Sounds like you were raised right." Josef's estimation of the detective had raised several notches when he saw the scotch. Even he had had difficulty securing a bottle of this rare brew.
Carl nodded. "Davis family tradition among men when you turned sixteen. Your grandfather, father, uncles, cousins – anyone who was of age – all got together, pulled out the bottle, and the toasts would start. It was a 'coming of age' ritual in our family. Of course, at that age, cough syrup was probably the strongest thing I'd had up to that point, so one shot damn near did me in." His mind drifted back to those happy days. "Usually had Miles Davis, Louie Armstrong, or some other great music playing in the background."
Kostan groaned. "You're into jazz too? I shoulda known." He glared accusingly at St. John as if he were personally responsible for Carl's affinity for jazz. Mick grinned innocently back at him and shrugged his shoulders.
Carl nodded. "Damn straight. Don't tell me you're not! I mean... it is the great music of this country. Quintessentially American." He twisted his mouth in thought. "Well, of course, French roots fully acknowledged and appreciated."
"I prefer music that's a little... livelier"
The detective looked up in puzzlement as he removed the stopper from the bottle. "You do know that azz is not just blues, right?"
"Well, thank god for that." Josef's tone dripped cynicism
Mick watched the back and forth with interest. He'd had this same conversation with Josef many times. You'll never get anywhere with him, Carl.
Carl grinned at Kostan. "You mean, you haven't been educated about good jazz? Hell, Mick, what have you been doing with this man?"
Nothing you'd believe… Mick thought cynically
Once the top was finally removed, Carl moved deeper into the kitchen to retrieve three of the glasses he spotted on nearby shelves.
Beth, nervous at seeing Carl so close to Mick's hidden blood supply, jumped up. "Let me help, Carl. You're the guest." How does Mick do this? The few moments she'd spent in subterfuge to hide his identity had already made her a nervous wreck. She couldn't imagine the stress of living every moment of one's life worrying about being exposed.
Grabbing a fourth glass, she slammed it down on the island next to those Carl had lined up. "I could use one too," she blurted.
The detective's eyes rounded, even as his smile broadened. "Well... all right then! Scotch for the lady!"
"Yes, Beth has become quite the scotch drinker since Mick was injured," Josef drawled. "I guess everyone handles stress in their own way."
"Well, I've seen far worse coping mechanisms," Carl answered honestly.
"Me too," Mick chimed in from the couch. "And, I've seen you use that a time or two also, Josef. In fact..." he paused, making a show of catching his breath. "In fact, Josef, here, smashed a bottle of Hardy Perfection recently as part of his 'coping'."
"Three, actually," Kostan corrected his friend.
Carl sat the bottle of scotch on the granite countertop and leaned against it as if he were suddenly weak-kneed, making a sign of the cross. "That, sir, borders on criminal - no pun intended."
"Tell me about it," Josef answered gloomily. "You would think that your real friends would save you from yourself at that point..."
"Hey, it was already done by the time I got there!" Mick protested, remembering the mess of broken bottles and ruined liquor in Josef's house that awful night. "Mr. Kostan here sometimes has a hard time controlling his emotions…"
Carl shrugged and resumed pouring the glasses. "I'm sure there's a very...private...story behind that. If I may say so, you don't strike me as the sort to make that kind of sacrifice lightly, Mr. Kostan. Anyway, no point crying over spilled milk - or cognac, as the case may be, right? Beth, can you give me a hand?"
Beth picked up Mick's glass, taking it over to him. "Here. I don't want you reaching for it." She leaned down to kiss him before handing him the glass.
Josef noticed Davis watching them with something akin to envy on his face. "Don't mind them; they've been at it like that ever since he came home."
"Can't wait for the bandages to come off, eh?"
Kostan snorted. "Does it look like those bandages are coming off anytime soon?" He took a long swig of the scotch, smacking his lips approvingly. "Not bad. Not bad at all."
"Coming from you, sir, that's quite a compliment."
"You have no idea," Mick sniped, taking a small sip as befitted a feeble invalid.
Beth again perched on the sofa arm where she could reach Mick if need be - and watch the interactions between Davis and Kostan. "I echo that. Josef doesn't hand out compliments lightly. Actually," she paused for a moment to sample her own drink, "Josef doesn't usually give out compliments at all!"
Carl made note of the familiarity with which Beth spoke about the billionaire. She seemed to know him well. Bonded over crisis maybe? "I can't take all the credit. Many thanks to my uncle and dad for introducing me to the finer spirits."
"So," Josef began, intrigued by this man in spite of himself, "Tell me about yourself, Davis. How did you end up one of L.A.'s finest?"
Carl sat down in the vacant arm chair, taking a moment to think about the question. He was surprised that someone like Josef Kostan would take any interest in him or his story.
Josef waited him out, sipping the excellent scotch. He had learned centuries ago that silence was the best encourager of conversation.
"Not much to tell... I'm an L.A. boy, born and raised. Went to college, decided to become a cop."
"Why?"
Carl was caught off guard. "You almost sound like my parents," he blurted, quickly regretting that he'd let slip something so personal.
"Ah. So, I'm guessing that means it wasn't the family business then."
Beth rested one hand on Mick's neck, massaging gently as she worked on her drink and listened with interest to the conversation going on in front of her.
Carl sighed. "You guessed correctly."
"So, since you didn't have a family tradition of this fine occupation, what drew you to it, may I ask?"
"What can I say? Desks suck. I liked feeling like I was contributing to my community. And then, if I'm being candid, I liked the rush."
Josef laughed delightedly. "An honest man! I like it."
Despite his initial reservations, Kostan's apparent interest prompted Carl to continue. "I love my family, but I didn't want the life my dad and uncle have - going to work every day, doing pretty much the same thing, day in, day out. And after finishing my law degree, I was burned out-"
"Wait!" Beth almost choked on her drink. "You're a lawyer?! I had no idea!"
"No," Davis corrected her. "I have a law degree. I never took the bar."
"Why in the world not?" Beth's blue eyes were wide with astonishment.
"Because I hated it. I went for my dad - and my grandfather - but I hated every minute of it. If I'd taken the bar, they'd have been all over me to join a law firm somewhere. No bar, no law firm." The detective looked around at the trio, his brown eyes unreadable. "I know what you're thinking. Seems pretty passive-aggressive, doesn't it?"
Suddenly realizing that he was divulging a great deal of personal information, he shrugged. "Anyway, that's my story. Nothing remarkable." He took a long draught of the scotch, coughing slightly as it slid down his throat. "Sorry, can't hold my liquor I guess."
"On the contrary," Josef said. "I find every individual's life story to be remarkable. Over the years, I've learned that the best way to understand a person's motivations is to know their background. What brought them to whatever point they are at."
"Well, I'm the odd man out then," Davis laughed. "I know almost nothing about anyone in this room. Maybe I need to change that. What about you, Mr. Kostan?"
Josef smiled enigmatically. "What do you want to know about me? And please, call me Josef."
"How did you get to this very wealthy point... Josef"
"Luck. Well, luck and an inheritance. I was wealthy when I was born - I was just careful not to screw it up." The silence that followed begged to be filled. You have to give him a little more or you'll look like an asshole. "Unlike you, I looked at my father, who was making money hand-over-fist in the business world and decided I wanted to do exactly the same thing. He made it look like fun."
Mick frowned at his best friend. That had sounded suspiciously like a slam at Carl's story.
"Well, then, I envy you on many fronts," the detective replied honestly.
Kostan had the good grace to feel ashamed. "I didn't mean that as a put-down to you. Just different circumstances – and clearly, I lack your altruistic instincts. No offense intended."
"None taken. And please, call me Carl." He took another gulp from his glass, then looked pointedly at Beth. "So... how's it going working with Dickbot these days?"
Josef guffawed. "I must admit to liking that particular nickname. I've met ADA Talbot on one or two occasions at fundraisers. The nickname seems… appropriate."
Beth made a face, ignoring the billionaire. "As much fun as you'd imagine it to be. It's all I can do to be civil to him. I don't know how much longer I can stand to work there." She glanced at Josef, seeing him frown. She sighed. "I just feel like I have... obligations."
"That's a trap, Beth," Davis stated flatly. "Another case is always coming along. Don't let that be the reason that holds you there."
"I know," she said quietly.
Mick reached up to take her hand and squeeze it. He knew the toll it took on Beth to show up at that office every day. Damn you, Josef. The elder vampire had convinced her that she would be an asset to them by being their eyes and ears with the ADA's office and now she wouldn't even entertain the idea of quitting. He knew that the comment about not being able to work there much longer had been for Carl's benefit.
"Look, it's not my place to tell you what to do. I apologize." Carl regretted his comments but he genuinely cared about the young woman and he wanted to see her free of the hornet's nest that he felt the ADA's office was becoming. Case in point... "So, what did you think of Christophe Durand?"
"What?" Beth asked, startled.
"I talked to Jamie yesterday and she mentioned that the guy came by and met you. He's a pretty big deal, right?" He was fishing but he wanted to find out just how much she knew about him.
"That's what I hear," she said haltingly. "It would certainly appear so, given how Talbot's sucking up to him. I met with Mr. Durand in Ben's office. He, um, kicked him out."
Carl snickered. "Now that I would have liked to see. Did he give you any idea why-?"
"Why what?" Mick interrupted. He'd been sequestered in the freezer room for most of the week after the ambush, so he was not aware of the role Christophe Durand had played in the firestorm that had swirled around Talbot.
Before Beth could reply, Davis filled him in. "The guy's some bigwig; heads up a non-profit organization that comes in after disasters and basically cleans up whatever mess the government leaves behind." He hesitated as if weighing what to share with Mick. "He also rode in like a white knight when Ben was taking a bunch of heat in the media for sending us down to San Diego. By the time he was done, Dickbot sounded like a goddamn hero."
Beth exchanged guilty looks with Josef, who calmly sipped his scotch. Why hadn't she also told Mick about the Whitley - CHOIR connection she'd come across? Because he'd just almost died and you were protecting him.
"What the hell?!" Mick exclaimed, forgetting his role of invalid as he sprang up from the couch in one fluid motion. "What were you doing meeting with this guy, Beth?! And when were you planning on telling me?"
Beth's eyes flashed a warning as Carl also jumped to his feet, alarmed.
"Mick, take it easy!" the muscular detective cautioned, grabbing him by the arm. "You're gonna rip out every stitch you've got!" How the hell did he move like that?! He shoved the thought away. Adrenaline could cause a person to do strange things.
In a tone the humans in the room couldn't hear, Josef growled, "Mick, don't fuck this up!"
Shit! The P.I. staggered and grabbed at his abdomen, doubling over. He groped behind him for the couch, throwing in several moans as he allowed Carl to help lower him carefully back to his spot. "I'm... gonna… pay for that one," he gasped faintly, praying that Davis's detective instincts wouldn't kick in.
"Mick, I'm so sorry. I was going to mention it, but I got... distracted... last night." She ignored Josef choking on his scotch behind her as she knelt next to the couch and adjusted his bandages in a show of concern. "It really wasn't a big deal. We didn't talk about Ben; he just wanted to know how we were. He thinks you're a hero-"
"Which you are," Carl added, collecting the empty glasses from the coffee table and carrying them over to deposit in the sink. "Is he okay, Beth?" he asked, his voice reflecting his concern. That was definitely not a move a severely injured man should have been making.
"He'll be okay, I think, Carl. He just managed to punish himself for not being careful, didn't you, Mick?" Her eyes warned him to play his part.
"Yeah, you can say that again," Mick said faintly. "I think I need to lie flat after that bit of stupidity."
"I think that's a good idea. Carl, do you mind helping me?"
The detective hurried over and followed Beth's lead in maneuvering Mick into a prone position on the couch. "I dunno," he said doubtfully, eyeing the P.I. "Maybe you should be back in bed, Mick. I'd feel terrible if my insisting on coming to see you caused you to relapse."
Josef spoke up. "I hired a couple of home health male nurses that are on call for that, Carl. They can get him in bed when he's ready. And sit on him if he tries some other fool stunt like that. I don't know about you but I don't care to be here if he re-enacts the scene from Alien."
Carl smiled faintly. "Mr. Kostan, it sounds like you are the kind of friend a person likes to have on their side. I can see that, between you and Beth, Mick is very well-taken care of. And he deserves it. You are a damn hero, St. John, whether you believe it or not."
"Yes, you are," Beth continued softly, her hand on Mick's arm. "Mr. Durand even wanted to meet you."
"Not happening," Josef snapped.
Beth whipped her head around in time to see the detective's startled look. Goddammit! Were these two vampires trying to wave a flashing sign that said 'we're not normal'?! "Josef," she said as evenly as possible, "that's not your call to make. Even if you are paying for Mick's medical care," she added. This last statement was for Carl's benefit.
Turning back to Mick, her blue eyes met his angry hazel ones. "It's Mick's call - and, of course, it couldn't happen anytime soon. Carl, you are our only visitor for a while. Besides you, of course, Josef," she added hastily.
The awkward silence that followed was broken by their guest. Carl's eyes lit on the unopened package still sitting on the island. "Oh, I almost forgot. I did have one other thing for you, Mick." He brought the package over to the man on the couch, adding, "Good thing, since we're drinking all your scotch."
Mick handed his glass to Beth with a look that said 'we'll talk later' and accepted the gift. "Thanks, Carl. You didn't have to get me anything, though."
"Yes," the detective said quietly. "I did."
"Beth, can you help prop me up just a little?" Mick was determined not to blow his cover again, gasping and groaning for effect as she stuffed a couple of pillow behind him. "Much better, thank you. Is it time for me to get some more pain killers? I could really use it after that stunt I just pulled."
Beth retorted, "I should say no, so that you have a reminder not to do anything that silly again but…" She made a show of looking at her watch. "Yeah, it's just a little early. Let me get them." She hurried into the bathroom off his office and shook out several aspirin from the bottle Mick kept there for clients. Carl would never know these weren't OxyContin.
"Here you go." She handed the vampire the fake narcotics and a glass of water, waiting while he swallowed the pills. Wonder what will happen to them, she thought idlely. "Okay, now you can open your present."
Mick ripped the paper off the large, flat box and lifted the lid to peek inside. "Oh wow," he said softly.
"What is it?" Beth asked curiously.
The vampire reverently lifted out a vinyl album. "It's Hank Mobley Blue Note! This is one of the rarest jazz albums out there. I've never even seen one. Where did you find this, Carl?"
"Just ran across it," the detective replied cryptically. "It's in great shape."
"It must have cost you a fortune! You shouldn't have done this."
"Actually, it was pretty reasonable. I had an 'in' with the proprietor." Yeah, since it was mine, I got a pretty good deal. The album had long been a cherished part of his personal jazz collection, given to him by his grandfather. When the idea had occurred to him to give it to Mick, he hadn't hesitated. Papa would understand. "I'd have brought you a Cohiba too, but I figured Beth would have my head if I brought a cigar to someone recovering from major surgery."
"And you would be right," Beth retorted, bending over Mick's shoulder to see the old LP cover, her blond hair brushing the vampire's cheek. "What a thoughtful gift."
"Thank you," Mick said softly, genuinely touched by the gesture.
"You're welcome." He touched Mick carefully on the shoulder, then straightened. "I'd better go. I drank all your scotch and caused a fight between you and Beth – and probably got you to rip out half your stitches too." Davis laughed ruefully. "I'd say my work here is done."
He turned and held out his hand to the Josef, who climbed to his feet. "It was great to meet you, Mr. Kos- Josef," he amended with an almost shy smile. "I meant what I said. Can't thank you enough for taking care of Mick. Your medical folks obviously did an outstanding job; I would never have expected him to look this good. If I'm ever shot, I'm calling you up."
"You do that," Josef replied with a grin. "It was a pleasure to meet you as well. I understand a little better now why my friend here chose to be a human flack vest."
"Thanks - I think."
"Come on, Carl," Beth said, rising from her spot next to Mick. "Let me walk you out."
At the front door, Davis abruptly turned around, bending his head down toward the young woman. In a quiet voice that he thought the two men in the room couldn't hear, he said urgently, "Don't let Durand near Mick, Beth."
"Why? What do you know, Carl?" Beth's tone was guarded; she knew the two vampires behind her could hear every word they said.
The handsome detective hesitated before speaking his mind. "I- I don't really know anything specific. I've just heard some... rumblings... that the guy isn't to be trusted." He put his hand on Beth's shoulder, his warm brown eyes holding hers. "If I knew more specifics, I'd tell you. I promise."
"I know you would. Thank you, Carl. You're a good friend - to both of us."
"Oh!" Davis snapped his fingers and called over Beth's head to the vampire still stretched out on the sofa. "Mick, I forgot! I've got some of your things from our little expedition. Meant to bring them but I left them sitting on my counter."
"What things?" Mick called weakly.
"Your hat - oh, and your thermos. I keep forgetting to wash the damn thing out, but I'll do that and drop it by. I'm guessing you won't need them for a while."
"Thanks," Mick said faintly. He didn't have to act this time. The thermos! Fuck, fuck, fuck! By the look on Beth's face, he knew she was thinking the same thing.
As soon as the door closed behind their guest, Beth whirled around. "Mick..." she began haltingly, meeting his stricken gaze. "The thermos..."
Josef looked from one to the other, reading the worry in their faces. "What the hell was in it, Mick?"
His anger over Beth's contact with Durand evaporating in the face of a much bigger concern, Mick answered, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Blood."
End Song: It's A Mistake, Men at Work