*Three*
Hayes/Jones Residence
Fort Dodge, Iowa
6:19 p.m.
We decided to forgo questioning Holly Kesper on Mrs. Bexley's advice that she wouldn't tell us "nothin' new," and headed up the hill toward the elegant Victorian house said to be inhabited by the Savages. The whole scene was right out of a horror film, with the refining addition of some Anne Rice overtones. The sky became overcast, and in a few minutes it was black as night and raining hard. In the flash of a lightning bolt, the mansion cast an ominous shadow onto its surrounding garden. I think I saw Scully shiver.
"Mulder, maybe we should just go back to the motel," suggested Scully. "You know how the eyes play tricks when you're chasing vampires on a dark and stormy night."
I smiled. "Don't be silly. I'm alarmed that someone with your scientific training could so easily be drawn into the lure of small-town literary stereotypes and pathetic fallacy."
"What would you like me to say? That the weather conditions may interfere with achieving an accurate bullet trajectory?"
"Not unless you brought your silver bullet clip, Scully." I parked the car at the end of the long driveway in front of the house. "You know," I said, my voice lowered, "a car is the safest place to be in a lightning storm." I don't know if I'd meant to say it so provocatively, but it kind of came out that way.
"Then why are we getting out of one?"
I banged on the elaborate wooden door with its wrought-iron knocker, and a moment later, the door creaked open to reveal a slight man, all in black, with disarming blue eyes. The first thought that sprang to mind was the time Scully had that stupid crush on the Texas sheriff who helped us investigate a previous case of vampirism. Great, watch her get all dreamy over this guy now.
"Agents Mulder and Scully, FBI," said Scully competently. "We're investigating a double murder in the area, and we'd like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?" The tone of ennui had drifted back into her voice. Maybe she needs more brownies, I thought idly. The man let us in without a word, and motioned for us to have a seat in the aesthetically decorated living room.
"Is there anyone else living here?" asked Scully methodically. Define ‘living', Scully, I thought.
"Yeah, my friend Daniel. I'm Darren." He reclined into a high-backed chair and looked at me strangely. I glanced at Scully to see if she'd caught a hint of his charm yet, but she seemed to be ignoring it. I was impressed. How very productive of you, Scully.
"And where is Daniel now?" she questioned.
"In bed." replied Darren demurely.
Scully continued. "Can you tell me where you were last Tuesday night around 9 p.m.?"
"I was here. At home. Probably watching telly." An accent had definitely surfaced in Darren's voice, which I soon placed as Australian. Come on, Scully, aren't you a sucker for accents?
"And Daniel?"
"Yeah. He was here too. I think we'd rented a video, actually."
"Did you have any contact with the two vacationers who were recently found dead near here?" She placed the photographs of the Welling couple on the glass coffee table in front of him. "Did you see them around town, talk to them at all?"
Darren eyed the pictures. "Can't say as I did. Sorry, I'm not much help, am I?" He flared a beguiling grin – not at Scully, though. At me. I hadn't even said anything. I smiled back uselessly.
"Have you got a last name, Darren?" Scully asked.
"Hayes. Daniel's is Jones. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"I don't think there's anything at this time. Will Mr. Jones be available to for us to speak with anytime soon?"
"Er ... he's really kind of ... indisposed for the time being," Darren paused and then mouthed the word ‘hangover,' "I'm sure he'll be alright tomorrow, though, if you'd like to come back and talk to him?"
Scully stood up to leave. "That sounds like a good idea. Mulder?"
I started out of Darren's gaze. "Hm? Right. Okay, thanks," I said to Darren.
"Still, maybe you guys should wait a little while till the rain lets up," Darren suggested. "You won't be able to see driving in that." He looked out the window.
I conferred with Scully in a brief exchange of looks, and we decided we might stay a few minutes.
"Make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you anything?"
We shook our heads.
"Okay. I'll be right back." He disappeared down the hall.
After about half an hour, the storm still hadn't let up any, but Scully was growing impatient, and we'd seen no sign of Darren since he'd left the room.
"Mulder, I'm going to go look for him, to let him know we're leaving." she said. "You stay right here." She walked off in the direction in which Darren had gone.
I waited for a few minutes, memorising the figurines on the gold-trimmed mantel and noting how much coloured glass there was in the room. Decorative wine tumblers, crystal vases containing exotic flowers. There were red velvet drapes on the windows and prints of Renaissance-era paintings on the walls. Geez. These guys are awfully sophisticated for a couple of college-age kids.
Just then my Ridiculous slapped my Sublime right across its conceptual little face. I am, after all, 98 parts hopeless romantic to 2 parts strategic kill-joy – idealism has that kind of command over reason for me. Vampires, stupid! Ageless, immortal deities unchanged by time and its transgressions! If nothing else, god, Mulder, you could've at least noticed they don't have any mirrors ...
And where the hell is Scully? Stay right here my ass. "Scully!" I called into the dark corridor. No answer. Perfect. I walked down the long hall until I came to a staircase, much like the one leading up from the living room, except that this one led in the opposite direction. Drawing my gun, I chased a myriad of steps spiralling downward until I reached a dim parlour. Christ, I thought, if there's a coffin in here ... "Scully!" I called again, aimlessly.
Out of nowhere, Darren materialised before me.
"Where's Scully? What did you do with her?" I yelled.
Darren put a finger of silence to his lips and murmured, "She's fine."
"Well where is she? We'd like to leave now."
"She's fine," he repeated, in the same cool whisper as before. "You're a funny man, Agent Mulder. Really, you are."
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