We snuck to my car. I took Santa Monica Boulevard east to the Hollywood Freeway and straight to Coyote's home. I checked the mirrors for police. Nada.

My back muscles throbbed from the lacerations. The frustration that overwhelmed me earlier returned and my mind spiraled into a whorl of confusion. The red taillights around me fused into a crimson smear. My thoughts tumbled around the other vampire, as if he and I were locked inside a barrel careening down a hill. What part did this vampire play in Cragnow's plan? Was he a mere lookout, a guard… or an assassin? How much did he know?

I recoiled, startled by the rank odor of rat chorizo and stale mescal. Coyote chugged from his flask.

The stench yanked me back to the present like a whiff of ammonia. The taillights of the car in front of me snapped into sharp focus.

Coyote lowered the flask and munched on something.

"You had another worm in there?" I asked, wondering what he chewed.

He shrugged. "Worm, cockroach, don't know."

Coyote's aura pulsed with anxiety. He hunched forward and screwed and unscrewed the metal cap of the flask.

"What did that vampire tell you, ese?"

"Not much." I remembered my hand rebounding from the vampire's face. My lips curled into a grin. "He said he worked for Cragnow."

"Surprised?"

I paused. No. "Relieved, actually. Means I'm getting close to my answers. He got on the phone too quickly after he saw me. Like it was part of a plan. That confirms what I've suspected."

"What?"

"Cragnow was behind Roxy's murder."

Coyote twisted the cap onto the flask and shoved it back into his jacket. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Felix. It only means Cragnow expected you to visit the alley." Lights from oncoming traffic cast moving shadows across Coyote's withered face.

"You're quick to defend him," I said.

"Chale. I dream to see you do to Cragnow what you did to his maton." His thug. "Think about it, ese. Did that vampire tell you anything about Roxy?"

"I didn't have the chance to ask. But the trail from Roxy's murder leads to Cragnow."

"Don't be too sure."

"I am sure," I replied. "Why else would he plant a lookout on the alley?"

"To catch you, ese. Why are you here in Los Angeles?"

Seemed an obvious question. "To find out who killed Roxy Bronze. And investigate vampire-human collusion, which seems as rampant here as chicken pox in a kindergarten."

Coyote reeled his fingers, as if to draw out my response. "Why does Cragnow want to stop you?"

Another obvious question. "To keep me from finding out who killed Roxy."

Coyote shook his head in rebuttal. "Let's suppose, vato, that Cragnow had nothing to do with her death. In that case, why would he care if you solved her murder or not?"

"Explain this. I ask about Roxy and for my troubles I almost get turned into asphalt pate. Then this goon tonight tried to play bumper tag with his Jag."

"Cragnow fears you," Coyote said. "Why?"

"Because I'm a threat to his vampire-human enterprise."

"Which is not the same as Roxy's murder, is it?" Coyote grinned expectantly, as if waiting for a dim bulb to light in my brain.

"What about Rebecca Dwelling?" I asked. "Why was she knocked off if not to protect Cragnow? And Katz Meow is still missing. Tell me that's not a coincidence. What's the connection?"

Coyote stroked his mustache and massaged his chin. "Good questions." He touched the button on his armrest and retracted the window. Cool air blasted in and cleansed the interior of rat chorizo and mescal stink. Coyote extended his legs to prop his feet out the window. "You're the professional. You tell me."

Tell him what? That the investigation had so far been a knot of clues in a maze of blind corners?

Back at his "palace," and hungry as always, Coyote poured himself a bowl of pork in chile rojo, the rojo coming from type A-positive stirred into the sauce.

I washed and changed clothes. Four aspirins and a bourbon straight up dulled the sting from my wounds. I'd be fine by morning.

Email waited from my Internet hacker. He-or she-was still working on retrieving Katz Meow's telephone records.

And I got confirmation that Roxy Bronze-Freya Krieger-had a sister. Lara Krieger, now Lara Phillips, her married name, though recently divorced. The hacker included Lara's address and a telephone number.

A clue or yet another wrinkle to smooth over?

Tuesday I would have lunch with Roxy's attorney, Andrew Tonic. He wanted to talk, and I felt certain that he would help me find the link between Roxy's murder and Cragnow.

And I needed a chat with Lara Phillips. Nothing in the case pointed to Lara about vampire-human collusion or her sister's murder. A quick visit, a little vampire hypnosis, and that would be the end of my interest with Lara Phillips.

Simple.

The next morning, a Monday, I drove to Glendale and got on La Crescenta Avenue. I endured the bumper-to-bumper crawl by listening to an extended mix of African world beat music on the radio and sipping from my to-go cup-Costa Rican blend with goat's blood.

My task was straightforward. A talk with Lara Phillips.

Coyote stayed home to fix his truck. I «loaned» him money for a new starter. I didn't anticipate anything dangerous with Lara, so there was no need for Coyote to watch my back. In case of trouble, I had my vampire wits and a Colt .380 automatic.

My cell phone buzzed, the caller ID announcing Veronica's number. I answered.

"Hey, lover boy," Veronica said, her tone playful. "Catch you at a bad time? Just wanted to say I'm still sore from yesterday morning."

"Sore? In what way?" I asked, worried that I might have been too aggressive.

"A very good way." Veronica gave a smoky laugh. "Any chance we could get together this evening for dinner or whatever?"

The «whatever» part clinched the offer. "Maybe," I teased.

She laughed again. "Maybe? Never figured you to be coy."

"I was thinking about you," I replied. "Wouldn't want you to get too sore."

"Ha. When that happens, I'll tell you."

"Six, then? Pick you up at your place?"

"See you there. Ciao." She hung up.

Now I had two women on my agenda. Lara and Veronica.

I followed La Crescenta Avenue. Considering Lara's almost inconsequential mention-her name was but a note among the reams of papers in Roxy's files-I didn't expect to spend much time interrogating her, as previously mentioned. A quick dazzle with the eyes, a few questions, some answers, and I'd disappear, like a vapor.

Still, she was Roxy's sister. I wasn't as thorough a detective as I thought, considering that I stumbled upon this discovery. My inquiry into Roxy's past told me both her parents died years ago. I hadn't bothered to find out if Roxy had siblings. Or rather, sibling. Lara.

A gap opened in the wall of trees along La Crescenta. I took a left to cross over a large concrete viaduct that separated the neighborhood from the rest of Verdugo City like a moat. The street meandered through nicely tended homes terraced on a hill facing northeast.

Lara Phillips's house was near the top, a cream-colored ranch home with a single-car garage and the ubiquitous red tile roof. A moss-dappled, stone retaining wall held a narrow lawn at hip-height above the front sidewalk.

A small Ford Focus sat in the driveway. Large decals advertising EXPERT MAIDS decorated the car doors.

I parked the big Chrysler in the shade of tall evergreens marking the property line with her neighbor. I removed my contacts and checked the area. For a Monday morning, the neighborhood appeared as it should. Quiet.