Blood Lines

smart-mouthed PI, and a… a romance writer. She'd need proof and he simply didn't have any.
    Telling her would also ensure that he'd never see her again, but with four people dead what she thought of him personally became significantly less important.
    When it came right down to it, he needed the information and he'd have to use her interest in him-or, more exactly, her perception of his interest in her-to get it. He'd once watched Vicki pump a man dry by spending two hours batting her eyelashes and interjecting a breathless "Oh really?" into every pause in the conversation. He wouldn't have to sink that low, but even so, Rachel Shane deserved better. God willing, he'd get a chance to make it up to her another time.
    As dinner progressed, he had no trouble getting her to talk about herself and her work. The police had long since learned to exploit the human fondness for self-exposure and an amazing number of crimes were solved every year when the perpetrator just couldn't keep quiet any longer and told all. Nor was it difficult to steer the conversation sideways into ancient Egypt.
    'I have the feeling," she said as the waiter set desert and coffee on the table, "that I should only have given you my name, rank, and serial number. I haven't been so thoroughly interrogated since I defended my thesis."
    Celluci pushed the curl of hair back off his forehead and searched for something to say. He had, perhaps, been probing a little deeply. And he had, perhaps, not been as subtle as he could have been. The desire to be honest kept fighting with the need to be devious. "It's just that it's a relief not to be talking about police work," he told her at last.
    A chestnut brow rose. "Now, why don't I believe that," she mused, stirring cream into her coffee. "You're trying to find something out, something important to you." Lifting her chin, she looked him squarely in the eye. "You'd find out a lot faster, if you'd come right out and asked me. And then you wouldn't have wasted an evening."
    'I don't consider the evening to be a waste," he protested.
    'Ah. Then you found out what you needed to know."
    'Damnit, Vicki, don't twist my words!"
    Both brows rose, their movement cutting the silence to shreds. "Vicki?"
    He did say Vicki. Oh, shit. "She's an old colleague. We argue a lot. It just seems natural that a protest like that would have her name attached."
    The brows remained up.
    Celluci sighed and spread his hands in surrender. "Rachel, I'm sorry. You were right, I did need information, but I can't tell you why."
    'Why not?" The brows were down, but the tone was decidedly cool.
    'It would put you in too much danger." He waited for her protest, and when it didn't come he realized he was waiting for Vicki's protest.
    'Does this have anything to do with Dr. Rax's death?"
    'Only indirectly."
    'I thought you were taken off the case."

    He shrugged. Anything he said at this point could give her ideas and telling her about hiring Vicki-not to mention Vicki's supernatural sidekick-would only complicate things further.
    'You know I'll help in any way I can."
    Most of the people Celluci met divided the man and the cop into two very neat and separate packages. Certain subtle differences in tone and bearing indicated Rachel Shane had just closed the first package and opened the second.
    She kept him in police officer mode for the rest of the evening, and when he dropped her off at her condo he had to admit that, although he felt like he'd just finished Archaeology 101, as far as dates went, it hadn't been exactly a success. She obviously had no intention of inviting him in.
    'Thank you for dinner, Mike."
    'You're welcome. Can I call you again?"
    'Well, I tell you what." She looked up at him, her expression speculative. "You decide you want to see me and not the Assistant Curator of the Royal Ontario Museum's Department of Egyptology and you dump the hidden agendas and I'll think about it." Tossing a half smile back over her shoulder, she went into the building.
    Celluci shook his head and slid back into his car. In a number of ways Rachel reminded him of Vicki. Only not quite so… so…
    'So Vicki," he decided at last, pulling out of the driveway and turning east toward Huron Street without really thinking.
    It wasn't until he was searching for a parking space, which was, as usual, in short supply around Vicki's apartment, that he wondered what the hell he was doing.
    He drove twice more around the block before a space opened up and he