Free B00724AICC EBOK by A. J. Gallant Page B

to be one of five that night.
    Several hours later the place had been partially dusted and the photos taken. The recording devices for the two cameras had been smashed beyond functionality. Vincent knew who the guilty parties were and felt responsible about not being able to stop them, if it hadn’t been for that damn rain. The thought that they could perhaps elude him for months, especially if they departed the area, made his stomach churn.
    Sargent Pratt was almost sixty and the years hadn’t been kind to him. He approached Vincent who was sitting on one of the patrol car bumpers. “Sheriff, we’ll keep an eye out for these two.”
    “ I’ll get them. Sargent, you wouldn’t know how to contact Dracula?”
    A look of surprise showed on the Sargent’s face. “I assumed that all vampires would know his location. You know, that you could sense him or whatever.”
    Vincent removed his hat, ran his hand through his hair and then put it back on with a bit of an adjustment. “You need to start asking everyone you know of his location. It’s imperative Sargent. Something nasty is coming that will make this massacre look like a minor event.”
    “ Sheriff, I can’t sleep as it is. Why the hell do you have to tell me shit like that?”
    Vincent was one of the famous six red sheriffs. His fame came when the filming of a television commercial was interrupted by five miscreant vampires. They were in the process of killing when he showed up and killed all five. He had already been a legend to his fellow vampires, but when that event was shown on the news he had become famous to most. He didn’t care one damn iota about fame; he cared about justice for all.
    The sheriff blurred off into the night as it started to pour.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
     
     
    PIERS ANTHONY AND DRACULA entered the bar on Main Street in Moncton and went around the corner and out of view of the dozen or so patrons. They entered through a secret door in the back wall where a photo from a Toronto and Montreal hockey game hung. A C5 stick-shift knob from a Corvette opened the wall to reveal the clandestine room. The room had a red carpeted floor surrounded by an ink black wall adorned by large paintings of gambling scenes. Most of the scenes were poker although there was one roulette wheel, with most of them being a look into Las Vegas, but one was from Casino New Brunswick, with a Blackjack game in progress.
    Ginger tea permeated the air, as two identical twin brothers from Africa were both enjoying similar beverages from behind different tables. One had downed half his cup in one drink, with a trickle of it running down his chin. Dracula could detect the scent of brown sugar in the oversized white cups. It was amusing how their eyes dashed back and forth, checking out the poker faces, while simultaneously attempting to distract. The two individuals were relatively new to poker but had lots of cash and didn’t seem averse to losing some of it. They were also watched closely for any signs of possible cheating, although they were both down more than ten thousand dollars. But a single properly timed hand could change their luck.
    It was an atmosphere of relative quiet as big money was at risk. One evening during the past week a Welsh businessman lost exactly one million dollars in the room; he flew home the next day and promptly shot his wife. It was strictly a game of cash, although one night a bar of solid gold was permitted entry onto one of the three eight-player round Honduran mahogany poker tables. Its leather black cushioned armrest was a welcome addition, and the plush green velvet-like center was a feature in many dreams and nightmares as well. Black top of the line pokers chairs with mahogany varnish surrounded the table.
    At just over four feet tall, a dwarf that called himself John Smith had the habit of constantly whispering to himself, and initially was the subject of some