Laurell K. Hamilton - 04 The Lunatic Cafe - Anita Blake Series.pdf

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The Lunatic Cafe
Book 4 in the Anita Blake - Vampire Hunter series
Laurell K. Hamilton, 1996
The zombie-raising business gets slow in December, so Anita Blake is starting to see some oddball
cases. She's got a neatly typed list of eight missing lycanthropes given to her by Marcus, the leader of the
local werewolf pack, who wants her to find them. The trouble is, Anita's occasionally furry boyfriend
Richard is locked in a power struggle with Marcus. Jean-Claude, master vampire of the city and Anita's
other love interest, is getting jealous as well. To top it off, Anita has to solve some horrific murders and
keep her bounty-hunting friend Edward from killing Richard and Jean-Claude. Hamilton alternates
between funny and fearsome in this larky series about a monster hunter with a few dark secrets.
Chapter 1
It was two weeks before Christmas. A slow time of year for raising the dead. My last client of the night
sat across from me. There had been no notation by his name. No note saying zombie raising or vampire
slaying. Nothing. Which probably meant whatever he wanted me to do was something I wouldn't, or
couldn't, do. Pre-Christmas was a dead time of year, no pun intended. My boss, Bert, took any job that
would have us.
George Smitz was a tall man, well over six feet. He was broad shouldered, and muscular. Not the
muscles you get from lifting weights and running around indoor tracks. The muscles you get from hard
physical labor. I would have bet money that Mr. Smitz was a construction worker, farmer, or something
similar. He was shaped large and square with grime embedded under his fingernails that soap would not
touch.
He sat in front of me, crushing his toboggan hat, kneading it in his big hands. The coffee that he'd
accepted sat cooling on the edge of my desk. He hadn't taken so much as a sip.
I was drinking my coffee out of the Christmas mug that Bert, my boss, had insisted everyone bring in. A
personalized holiday mug to add a personal touch to the office. My mug had a reindeer in a bathrobe and
slippers with Christmas lights laced in its antlers, toasting the merry season with champagne and saying,
"Bingle Jells."
Bert didn't really like my mug, but he let it go, probably afraid of what else I might bring in. He'd been
very pleased with my outfit for the evening. A high-collared blouse so perfectly red I'd had to wear
makeup to keep from looking pale. The skirt and matching jacket were a deep forest green. I hadn't
dressed for Bert. I had dressed for my date.
The silver outline of an angel gleamed in my lapel. I looked very Christmasy. The Browning Hi-Power
9mm didn't look Christmasy at all, but since it was hidden under the jacket, that didn't seem to matter. It
might have bothered Mr. Smitz, but he looked worried enough to not care. As long as I didn't shoot him
personally.
"Now, Mr. Smitz, how may I help you today?" I asked.
He was staring at his hands and only his eyes rose to look at me. It was a little-boy gesture, an
uncertain gesture. It sat oddly on the big man's face. "I need help, and I don't know who else to go to."
"Exactly what kind of help do you need, Mr. Smitz?"
"It's my wife."
I waited for him to continue, but he stared at his hands. His hat was wadded into a tight ball.
"You want your wife raised from the dead?" I asked.
He looked up at that, eyes wide with alarm. "She's not dead. I know that."
"Then what can I possibly do for you, Mr. Smitz? I raise the dead, and am a legal vampire executioner.
What in that job description could help your wife?"
"Mr. Vaughn said you knew all about lycanthropy." He said that as if it explained everything. It didn't.
"My boss makes a lot of claims, Mr. Smitz. But what does lycanthropy have to do with your wife?"
This was the second time I'd asked about his wife. I seemed to be speaking English, but perhaps my
questions were really Swahili and I just didn't realize it. Or maybe whatever had happened was too awful
for words. That happened a lot in my business.
He leaned forward, eyes intense on my face. I leaned forward, too, I couldn't help myself. "Peggy, that's
my wife, she's a lycanthrope."
I blinked at him. "And?"
"If it came out, she'd lose her job."
I didn't argue with him. Legally, you couldn't discriminate against lycanthropes, but it happened a lot.
"What sort of work is Peggy in?"
"She's a butcher."
A lycanthrope that was a butcher. It was too perfect. But I could see why she'd lose her job. Food
preparation with a potentially fatal disease. I don't think so. I knew, and the health department knew, that
lycanthropy can only be transferred by an attack in the animal form. Most people don't believe that. Can't
say I blame them entirely. I don't want to be fuzzy, either.
"She runs a specialty meat store. It's a good business. She inherited it from her father."
"Was he a lycanthrope, too?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No, Peggy was attacked a few years back. She survived ... " He shrugged. "But,
you know."
I did know. "So your wife is a lycanthrope and would lose her business if it came out. I understand that.
But how can I help you?" I fought the urge to glance at my watch. I had the tickets. Richard couldn't go in
without me.
"Peggy's missing."
Ah. "I am not a private detective, Mr. Smitz. I don't do missing persons."
"But I can't go to the police. They might find out."
"How long has she been missing?"
"Two days."
"My advice is to go to the police."
He shook his head stubbornly. "No."
I sighed. "I don't know anything about finding a missing person. I raise the dead, slay vampires, that's
it."
"Mr. Vaughn said you could help me."
"Did you tell him your problem?"
He nodded.
drat. Bert and I were going to have a long talk. "The police are good at their job, Mr. Smitz. Just tell
them your wife is missing. Don't mention the lycanthropy. See what they turn up." I didn't like telling a
client to withhold information from the police, but it beat the heck out of not going at all.
"Ms. Blake, please, I'm worried. We've got two kids."
I started to say all the reasons I couldn't help him, then stopped. I had an idea. "Animators, Inc., has a
private investigator on retainer. Veronica Sims has been involved in a lot of preternatural cases. She
might be able to help you."
"Can I trust her?"
"I do."
He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded. "All right, how do I get in touch with her?"
"Let me give her a call, see if she can see you."
"That would be great, thank you."

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