Dragons Luck

Forty-six

Even though it was late, the hotel lobby bar was still open. During its stay, the conclave had spent enough time and money in the bar to convince the management to schedule extra help to keep it open as long as they had customers, and tonight looked to be a banner ring.

Griffen had come and gone, and now a goodly percentage of the attendees had gravitated to the bar both to absorb and discuss the news he had brought.

“I don’t like it,” Tail declared, glaring into his drink.

“The whole situation abounds with things not to like,” Margie said, cocking her head at him. “Which thing in particular don’t you like, Tail?”

Surprisingly enough, of all the tactics the organizers had scheduled in an effort to get the various groups at the conclave to interact, the one that seemed to have been the most effective was the unscheduled poker game. Since that game, the participants had tended to hang and drink together, preferring each other’s company to that of their own specific group.

“I don’t like the idea of the cops poking around the conclave,” Tail said with a grimace.

“I’ll wager we’ve all had to deal with the cops at one time or another.” Margie shrugged. “No reason this time around should be any different.”

“Lot o’ differences.” Kane spoke up. “For one ting, dere are a lot of us dat have gathered in this here place. Too many maybe. Means de little tings dat make us different and we could normally cover on our own get blown up, dey get exaggerated. How many here you trust to not slip up, keep traps shut ’bout every little ting?”

“There’s also the minor detail that we’ve got a body that is being tied directly to us,” Lowell put in. “I myself don’t like the bit about him being staked through the heart.”

“See? I’m not the only one who’s worried,” Tail said triumphantly.

“I’m not saying that there’s nothing to worry about,” Margie said, raising her hands defensively. “I just think we’d be better off spending our time getting our stories straight instead of just sitting around and fretting. For example, what are we going to say about Slim and Griffen? That’s the main reason they’re coming around, isn’t it?”

“I think I can handle that, since I was there,” Lowell said.

“I’ll just tell them the truth. That there were some harsh words tossed back and forth, but nothing beyond that. Nothing to kill anyone over. What’s more, McCandles didn’t even show up until it was almost over. If anything, there was more bad blood between me and Slim than between Slim and McCandles.”

“Bad blood. Good one dat, vamp,” Kane said with a wink.

“Not sure you should say such a thing to a cop now. Wit how Slim was killed and all.”

“Why not?” Lowell said. “They don’t know I’m a vampire. To them, I’m just another attendee of a weird convention. All of us are.”

“So you sayin’ we cover for him?” Kane said.

“I’m not covering for him. I’m just going to tell them what happened,” Lowell said. “Besides, I don’t think he did it.”

“Because he said so?” Margie said.

“Because I don’t see where he’d have any reason to,” Lowell corrected. “If anything, quite the opposite. He’s been knocking himself out trying to run this conclave. Why would he do anything to disrupt it or to draw unwanted attention to it?”

“I’ll have to go along with that,” Tail agreed. “He rubs me the wrong way, but he’s also doing right by us. We all expect certain things from dragons; Griffen has turned at least some of my ideas around.”

“That’s certainly true for us changelings,” Tink said. “He always has time to talk with us and make us feel welcome. This whole thing with Slim, it’s almost as if whoever did it wanted Griffen to look bad.”

A silence fell over the group as they looked at each other.

“Why? Seems a powerful strong way to wrong someone,” Kane said softly.

“Someone already said it.” Tail frowned. “To mess up the conclave.”

“Maybe by setting up one of the groups, like, say, us vampires, to appear to be disruptive influences, if not killers,” said Lowell. “By the way, Tail, we really didn’t send you that cake from the Three Dog Bakery.”

“I think the real question,” Margie said, “is not ‘why?’ but ‘who?’ Who would want to see the conclave fail at Griffen’s expense?”

“What about a dragon?” Tail said, darkly.

“What is it wit you ’n’ dragons? You got a serious mad on for a reason?” Kane grimaced.

“No. Wait a minute,” Lowell said. “Tail might have a point there.”

“How do you figure that?” Tink asked.

“Think about it,” the vampire said. “Remember all the things we’ve heard about dragons, and how ruthless and power-hungry they are. This is the first time we’ve had a dragon at one of our conclaves, and we all like, or at least respect, McCandles. That’s got to have some kind of impact on other dragons. They may see it as degrading.”

“Or as an opportunity to do Griffen some dirt,” Tink said. “Anything that happened could get blamed on his being involved with the conclave.”

“Slow down here. Let’s not get carried away,” Margie said. “All of this is just speculation. We don’t know that Slim’s death was anything except random violence. We sure can’t point the finger at any one person or group without some kind of proof.”

“Well, there’s nothing stopping us from doing a little investigating on our own,” Lowell said.

“Reality check?” Margie said, raising her hand. “Exactly what do yo think we can do that the regular police can’t?”

“Lots of things.” The vampire smiled. “How about it, Tail? Is there anything you or yours could do to help track down the killer?”

“Not de way it work, Batman,” the shape-shifter growled. “We’re not bloodhounds. Even if’n we were, got any idea how many damn tourists passed by de scene of de crime by now? Worse’n a needle in a haystack, dat job.”

“We might be able to help with that,” Tink said. “One of the things we changelings are good at is finding things.”

“And that helps us how?” Margie said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, one of us… Tammy, you remember her… is particularly good at detecting supernaturals. If she could locate some that aren’t involved with the conclave, and one of them turned out to have a grudge against Griffen, we just might have found our killer.”

“That’s pretty thin,” Lowell said. “And we’ve only got, what, maybe thirty-six hours to do it in? Besides, from what I recall of that little scene at the poker game, I’m not sure Tammy will be all that eager to do a favor for McCandles.”

“You don’t know Tammy,” Tink said. “She’s probably cooled down by now. Besides, it will give her a chance to gain his thanks, if not admiration.”

“And if it doesn’t work, we’re no worse off than before,” Tail pointed out. “Let’s do it.”