“Then come away from there. You don’t want bugs all over you, do you?”

Raf’s small shoulders pumped up and down, and instead of coming back to her side, he squatted on his hunkers and grabbed a stick.

This time, Doreen couldn’t stop herself from sighing, but she tempered it with a smile. “Rafy, don’t get the bugs mad, okay?”

“Sure,” he said, eyeing the bush with a little more caution than he had before. “Will they sting?”

“I don’t know. What kind of bugs are they, baby boy?”

Again, Raf’s shoulders pumped up and down.

“Well, what color are they? Black and yellow? Red? Brownish-yellow?”

“No,” he said, drawing the word out. “Most of them are just black, but some of them are kind of all-colored.”

“All-colored, are they?” she asked with a smile as she turned the stroller around and headed back to him.

“Yeah. Red and gold and green and purple and orange.” Raf shrugged again. “All-colored.”

Doreen rolled to his side, then, after a quick glance at the baby, she squatted beside him and looked at the flies and blow flies swarming in the bush. “Umm,” she said, looking at the base of the bush, but seeing nothing.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Why’s that man sleeping back there? And why’s he all gray?”

Doreen followed her son’s gaze, then snatched him up and hurried away as fast as she could go.

2

Sam swiveled on his heel, looking at the gallery door with an expectant expression. The bailiff had disappeared through the door five minutes before, and Sam found it strange that he had not returned with his witness.

Bailiff Ketchum came through the door, glanced at Judge Cayce, and shook his head. Cayce looked at Sam and quirked an eyebrow. “Your witness seems to be missing, Mr. McCoy.”

Sam gave a slow shake of his head. “He was instructed, Your Honor. He sat through the proceedings yesterday.”

“Yes, but not, it seems, today. Wesley, did he sign in this morning?”

Ketchum shook his head. “No, Your Honor.”

Cayce turned back to McCoy. “Can we proceed without him, Mr. Prosecutor?”

“No, Judge Cayce. Mr. Gatsby’s testimony is pivotal to my case. I fear that without his testimony as foundation, the testimony of the following witnesses may be misconstrued. And I fear something untoward may have kept him from his duty this morning.”

Cayce fixed him with a stern glance. “Then I’d suggest you find him, Mr. McCoy.” He glanced at the large clock over the jury box. “It is already nearly noon. We shall break early for lunch, and you may take the afternoon to put your house in order, McCoy.”

“Most generous, Your Honor.”

“Court is dismissed,” said Cayce. With a wan smile, he pointed at his gavel and said, “Bang!”

Sam returned to the prosecution table and leaned down to whisper in Angie’s ear. “Find him, Angie, and make sure he’s here tomorrow.”

“I don’t understand it, Sam. He knows how important his testimony is.”

Sam shook his head and shrugged. “Witnesses.”

They gathered their belongings, but as they turned to stride through the bar, Leery Oriscoe came into the gallery, followed by Dru Nogan. The two detectives bee-lined straight for the two prosecutors.

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Problem, Detectives?”

“You could say that,” said Oriscoe. “We just took a call about a body in Battery Park. Seems his ID names him as one J. Gatsby.”

Sam grimaced and looked at Angie. “Our J. Gatsby?”

“He’s not here,” she said with a shrug.

“Let’s go,” Sam said, turning to Leery.

3

Sam and Angie climbed out of the Crown Vic, and Sam grimaced at Oriscoe. “You might need a refresher course at driving school, Detective.”

“What? We’re here, aren’t we?” He glanced down at his bare wrist as though he wore a watch. “And in record time.”

Angie grinned and patted Sam on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, boss. And Leery’s faster than the best cabby in the city.”

“Feels like he was faster than my stomach,” said McCoy.

“Cup of coffee will settle you right down,” said Leery. “My treat. I think there’s a cart around here…” He craned his neck, looking hither and yon.

“Maybe another time, Detective,” Sam said after an acidic burp. “Let’s get this done.”

“Right.” Leery led them in past the SeaGlass Carousel, down the path past the East Coast Memorial, then to the second path in the Battery proper. “The sarge should be standing… Ah! There he is.” Leery pointed to a young policeman with three stripes on his sleeve. “Hey, Silvers!” he shouted. “Down that way?”

Sergeant Shayne Silvers pointed into the bushes to his left. “Right in there, Oriscoe.”

“How’s that unicorn of yours?” he asked.

“Still murdering rainbows,” Silvers said.

“Good, good,” said Oriscoe.

Silvers turned to the two magisters. “Mr. McCoy. Ms. Carmichael.”

“Sergeant,” said Angie with a smile.

Leery stepped through the bushes. “Oh boy,” he said.

“What is it?” asked Sam.

“This guy’s drained. Dru?”

She grimaced but stepped into the bushes. “Vampires,” she said. “Four or five of them.”

“You’re sure?” asked Carmichael.

“Absolutely. The wounds are‍—‍”

“This makes no sense,” said McCoy. “He was our star witness in the Gerald Tarrant case.”

Leery pushed out of the bushes. “One of you should lay eyes on him. IDs can be faked.” He shook his head. “But I don’t get it. Tarrant was a vampire, right? The one that coven of witches murdered?”

Sam nodded. “The same.” He jerked his chin at the bushes. “Show me.”

Leery led him back into the bushes and then stood back to give the prosecutor room. “Look familiar, Counselor?”

“Yes,” said Sam with a deep sigh. “That’s Gatsby.” He sucked his teeth and shook his head once. “It just doesn’t make sense for vampires to kill him. He was on their side in all this.”

“Oh, goody,” said Leery. “A mystery. I get all shivery when we have an exciting mystery to solve.”

“Well, let’s get this one solved as soon as possible, shivery or not. I’ll file for a continuance, but it won’t last forever.”

“We’ll get right on it. Like always.”

“I know,” said Sam. “Mea culpa.”

“Let me get Hinton in here to do her voodoo. See what Mr. Gatsby has to say.”

Sam nodded. “Think he’ll talk?”

Leery shrugged. “I would if someone gnawed on my neck like that.”

Sam returned his gaze to the multitude of bite wounds on Gatsby’s neck, then sucked his teeth again.