Free Innocent Blood by Graham Masterton Page A

been here ever since. I wouldn’t say that I know how he does it, but he does it, and that’s good enough for me.’
    Detective Booker said, ‘You should meet my grandma. She can tell your fortune out of chicken’s guts and broken mirrors.’
    â€˜You don’t mind if I take a rain check on that?’ said Lieutenant Chessman. ‘By the way, Mr Bell, I’ve just heard from headquarters. Charles Lasser has offered a five million dollar reward for information that leads to the arrest and conviction of all members of Dar Tariki Tariqat. That could help us.’
    â€˜Charles Lasser? Star-TV?’
    â€˜The very man.’
    â€˜And he’s offering a five million reward? What’s the catch? He hates every other TV network with a passion, and they hate him.’
    â€˜It’s probably nothing more than a PR stunt. But who cares? If it encourages just one more witness to come forward and give evidence, then it’s worth it.’
    â€˜I guess so,’ said Frank. ‘Talking of witnesses . . .’
    â€˜Yes?’
    It was seven minutes of twelve. Astrid was probably waiting for him already. He could picture that faded, faraway look of hers, and the sun shining in her hair.
    â€˜If you need me to make any more statements, you know. Or look through mugshots . . .’
    Lieutenant Chessman clapped him on the back. ‘Thanks for the offer, Mr Bell. I’ll let you know.’
    As it turned out, Astrid wasn’t waiting for him, so he settled at his table next to the fountain, under the shade of a large green parasol, and ordered a vodka-tonic. It was a hot afternoon but there was a steady breeze flowing through the gardens, and the bougainvillea trembled all around him. He saw several people he recognized at other tables: Yvette Kane, the agent, Laszlo Wittenski, the TV director, and Gordon Thurman from People magazine. He was sure that they had seen him, too, but he guessed that they didn’t want to think about blown-apart children while they sipped their Chardonnay spritzers and toyed with their chèvre and green chili calzone. Real blown-apart children were too real. No latex involved. No stunt persons. No clever trickery with Maya digital software. The bombing at The Cedars had been met in Hollywood with an unexpected variety of emotions – anger, hysteria, bewilderment – but after the initial shock had worn off, most people had been irritated more than grief-stricken. ( We control the tears and the tragedy and the big explosions around here . . . how dare these Arab terrorists upstage us?)
    Frank heard laughter, but then he heard Yvette Kane say, ‘ Ssh .’
    After ten minutes, Astrid came down the stone steps into the garden, wearing a pale blue straw hat and a pale blue cotton dress with an off-the-shoulder top. He stood up, and they kissed, and she smelled of Flowers. Light, fragrant, tempting. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked him. ‘I haven’t kept you waiting too long, have I?’
    â€˜No, no. You’re fine. I’ve had a strange morning, that’s all.’
    â€˜Strange in what way?’
    He told her about Nevile Strange and his ‘psychic imprints,’ and what he had said about Amy Cutter, and about him , too. Astrid listened, but for some reason she didn’t appear to be particularly interested, and she kept twiddling her fork and looking around the gardens as if she expected to see somebody she knew.
    â€˜What do you think?’ he asked her. ‘I never believed in this stuff before – séances and spirits and getting in touch with your long-dead relatives. But he seemed to be convinced that Danny was still with me, and if Danny still wants to be with me, that must mean that he doesn’t blame me for what happened, right?’
    â€˜Strange was sure that it was Danny?’
    â€˜Who else could it be? I don’t know anybody else who’s died,