No Dominion The Walker Papers - By CE Murphy Page 0,3
just beggin’ me to ask questions. I leaned on a pew, looking her over. Poor kid was all but bristling, waiting for me to push it a little too far. I was a nosy old bastard, but not dumb. “So what do they call you?”
“Joanne. Or Joanie. Sometimes people call me Annie, but not very often.”
My back reminded me I was an old man. I straightened up, rubbing the middle, and shook my head. “Not Annie. My wife was named Annie. You don’t look like one.”
She relaxed a little. “What’d your wife look like?”
“’bout four eleven, blonde, brown eyes. Petite. You gotta be at least a foot taller than she was.”
“Yeah. So call me Jo, I guess, if you want.”
We ain’t gonna be bosom buddies, the undertone said, and I figured she was right. Didn’t matter what I called her. But if I was giving her nicknames she didn’t like, she probably oughta know my name, at least. I stuck out a hand. “Gary Muldoon.”
She glanced at me, then shook my hand. “Yeah, I know. Your license said so. I mean, it said Garrison, but I never met anybody who went by that.”
“Me neither. I think my ma saddled me with it ‘cause she hoped I’d be President.”
Joanne grinned. “President Garrison Matthew Muldoon. Sounds pretty good to me. Except, no offense, but they don’t elect guys as old as you anymore.”
“And when they did I wasn’t this old yet.”
Her mouth twitched like a laugh was tryin’ ta get out. “You realize that makes almost no sense.”
I leaned against a pew, arms folded smugly over my chest. “You understood.”
The laugh almost got out. “So I did.”
“Arright then. Look, lady, either there’s nobody here or you gotta do your thing and find your dame.”
“My thing?”
“You got some kinda thing goin’ on here. Normal people don’t stick their heads out plane windows and see somebody needing rescuing, so do your thing and find her. My meter’s still runnin’.”
“Oh, great. I hope you take credit cards.” She walked all the way to the front of the church and around the pulpit. “Shit.”
I jolted off my pew and long-legged it up the aisle. “What? She dead?”
“No.” Joanne slumped against the pulpit. “There’s nobody here. I really thought she would be.”
“Hah. I won’t ask for a tip, just for the satisfaction of bein’ right.”
“Gee, thanks.” She shoved off the pulpit and stomped circles around the altar, then leaned on it. “Shit. I really thought she’d be here. Churches are supposed to be sanctuary, or something, you know?”
“About a million centuries ago.”
She gave me a dirty look. “Like when you were a kid, you mean.” She thumped the altar in emphasis.
It slipped.
Joanne jumped off like the damned thing had bitten her. I grabbed the pulpit so I wouldn’t grab my chest like some wheezy old guy, and we both stared at the open crack where the lid had moved. “…do you believe in vampires, Gary?”
“God damn it, I was tryin’ real hard not to think that way.”
Her eyes were big as saucers. “Kind of fits, though, doesn’t it? Scary church with a crypt, the living dead ris—”
“The sun already rose,” I said firmly. “No vampires after dawn, right?”
“There’s no such thing as vampires.”
She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. She sure as hell wasn’t convincing me. “Well?” I demanded. “Are you gonna look in it?”
“Yeah.”
I waited a minute. She kept standin’ there. “When?”
“As soon as I get up the nerve.”
I edged her way and prodded her in the back. She inched forward, feet squeaking against the floor. Had to be wearing rubber-soled boots to make that sound. I looked down. She was, and they were providing plenty of resistance, so I gave her a little more shove.
She glared at me. “You’re a big strong man. Aren’t you supposed to be plunging into danger before me?”
“I’m forty-seven years older than you, lady, and you’re almost my height and in my weight class. And it’s your vampire.”
That put the kibosh on her goin’ anywhere. She turned back to me, all pink-cheeked with offense. “I am not in your weight class!”
Dames, I swear. “How much do you weigh?”
“Isn’t it rude to ask a woman how much she weighs?”
“Nah, it’s rude to ask how old she is, and I already know. G’wan, look in the coffin.”
“Oh. Damn.” She took a half-step toward it, mumbling, “I weigh one seventy two,” like if we talked about her weight she didn’t have to think about vampires.