Free Breakdown by Sara Paretsky Page B

the cops, and the sooner you make that happen, the easier controlling your damage will be.”
    “Which girl saw the murderer?” Salanter asked.
    “No one,” Arielle said. “Tyler thought she saw a vampire, but she couldn’t have, she wasn’t even initiated yet.”
    This new grievance made Arielle bunch up her fists and pound the cushions. She was on that tightrope between childhood and young adulthood—like young Kira, hoping to fly off to her father in Poland, Arielle and Nia still hoped magic might really happen.
    “Tyler?” Julia said. “I don’t remember her name from your Malina book group.”
    “She isn’t in it. Lots of kids at Vina Fields want to join our Carmilla club. Jessie and Tyler hang out; Jessie persuaded us to let her join, but now—we told Tyler it would hurt, but I guess she didn’t believe us.”
    “Or she wanted friends badly enough not to mind—although I don’t suppose anyone is prepared for a needle in the palm,” I said. “When she ran away from you, after you’d stabbed her, she said she didn’t care if you didn’t speak to her for five years. What was that about?”
    Arielle flushed but didn’t speak.
    “Did you threaten her with ostracism?” her mother demanded.
    “Not like that,” Arielle stammered. “It’s a vow. Before you can be initiated you have to swear that you won’t reveal the secrets of Carmilla, and if you do, no one else in the group will talk to you for the rest of the time we’re at school together.”
    Arielle saw her mother’s shocked face. “Mom! It’s the only way we can keep our club a secret!”
    “How did you choose your ritual?” I asked, before the conversation devolved into a mother-daughter battle.
    “We tried to bite each other, but it’s really hard, you need extra-sharp vampire fangs, otherwise you’re just catching up a fold of skin, and then, oh, you know, Aunt Sophy, she’s always doing needlepoint, so we started experimenting with her needles.”
    “You stabbed each other?” Julia said.
    “Of course, Aunt Julia,” Nia said. “We had to do it first; we couldn’t ask someone else to go through it if we hadn’t seen what it was like.”
    The two mothers looked at each other again. Some wordless communication passed, because they nodded, and Salanter spoke.
    “The Vina Fields Carmilla club will go on without you from now on. Arielle, you and Nia will not see each other or text each other for two weeks.”
    The two girls started shrieking in protest, promising endless good behavior; Salanter raised her voice. “There’s plenty of work for you to do, either for the foundation or the campaign—that will be your community service. Grandpapa’s lawyer will come tonight to prepare you for your conversation with the police, which will be happening tomorrow morning, if we can arrange it.”
    Dr. Durango turned to me. “We’ve spoken very frankly in front of you, Ms. Warshawski. I want to know whether we can rely on your discretion.”
    “Oh, yes, I’m discreet as all get out,” I said impatiently. “But I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously. A man was murdered last night, stabbed through the heart in a way that looked like a movie-style vampire slaying. How did he happen to be where your daughters were prancing around? Did you know him?”
    Julia flushed. “Of course we care that someone was killed. As to whether we knew him—what was his name?”
    “Miles Wuchnik,” I said, my voice tight. “Maybe you are the good guys in Illinois politics, but this focus on damage control when a man was killed, it doesn’t sit well with me.”
    “I don’t think you understand,” Salanter said. “My father is under constant attack, as is Dr. Durango. What our daughters did was ill advised, but we don’t have the luxury of dealing with them privately: their behavior isn’t just public property, it will be taken up as part of a relentless media attack machine. So I won’t apologize for focusing on damage