Vollwiz: Can you send me a copy?
Supecop1: My keyboard doesn't have the symbols. I doubt they make a keyboard that does.
About half a minute went by. Then:
Vollwiz: Do you have a text scanner available?
I knew what Vollman was getting at, and it annoyed me that I hadn't thought of it myself.
I pulled my notebook out and found the page where I'd copied the message found on Willbrand's corpse. Handing it to Karl, I said, "Do me a favor and run the scanner over this, will you? Put it on a thumb drive for me."
"Right," he said, took the notebook, and headed out room. I turned back to the keyboard and typed:
Supecop1: I should be sending that to you shortly.
VollWiz: Very well. Now, as to cause of death: I have heard it was a gunshot. Can you confirm that?
Supecop1: Where do you get your information, anyway?
Vollwiz: Please, Sergeant – let us not waste each other's time.
I stared at the screen while trying hard to keep control of myself. I didn't have to take shit like that from some bloodsucker, even if he was also a wizard.
By the same token, telling Vollman to go fuck himself wasn't going to get these cases cleared.
It would sure be fun, though.
I took in a deep breath, and let it out slow.
Supecop1: Yeah, he died of a gunshot wound. If you know that, I guess you know he was one of you… people.
Vollwiz: If you mean he was undead, yes, I was aware of that. May I assume that the bullet that killed him was silver?
Supecop1: No, you may not. Lab report says the slug was made of charcoal. It's like he was trying to barbecue the guy from inside. You ever hear of that?
Vollwiz: In fact, I believe I have.
Supecop1: I thought I was pretty well up on the ways to kill a vampire.
At the last second, I'd added "ire" to that last word. Some vamps don't like being called vamps.
Vollwiz: I'm sure you are, Sergeant. And this method of murder is not inconsistent with the knowledge you possess. Consider: what IS charcoal, anyway?
I figured out what he was getting at in about three seconds, then spent another ten feeling stupid.
Supecop1: Charcoal's super-compressed wood, isn't it? Wood – as in wooden stakes.
Vollwiz: Exactly. It is an uncommon method to kill one of my kind, but effective. As you have seen yourself.
Supecop1: Yeah, I guess I have.
Vollwiz: Have there been any other developments in the case?
Supecop1: Yeah. I may have a name for the perp. I guess you could call that a new development. It's hard to be sarcastic online. Unfortunately.
Vollwiz: Indeed? That is most interesting. Congrat ulations.
Supecop1: Don't pop any corks just yet. There's no way to know for sure whether it's our guy, but I like him for it. From what I hear, he's: 1. a wizard. 2. new in town. 3. acting secretive – pretending to be somebody else, etc.
Vollwiz: I agree, he sounds like a promising candidate. What is his name?
Supecop1: Calls himself Sligo.
No response. I watched the empty screen for a while, then typed:
Supecop1: You still there?
Still no answer. I was starting to wonder whether the connection had been broken, when this appeared:
Vollwiz: Are you absolutely certain?
Supecop1: Certain that's the guy? Hell, no. Certain that's what my informant told me? Yeah, I'm sure, since I don't have wax in my ears, oranything.
Karl appeared over my shoulder, holding a thumb drive. I attached it to the computer, downloaded the file, then sent it to Vollman's email address as an attachment.
Supecop1: I just sent the file with the symbols I copied from our latest vic. It's pretty accurate, I think.
I waited. Nothing, for maybe two minutes, then this appeared:
VollWiz: I will be in touch with you later.
Then the chat connection was broken.
"Motherfucker," I heard Karl mutter from behind me.
"Yeah, I know," I said. "But at least he's given us a way to find out where he hangs his cloak, and that's something we've been wanting to know."
I looked up the customer service number for AOL and called them. It took the better part of an hour to find a supervisor with the authority to look up a customer's mailing address, and to convince her that I had the authority to ask for it.
Finally, I heard her say, "Very well, Sergeant. What is the email address you have?"
"It's V-o-l-l-m-a-n-e-x at aol. com."
I heard her keyboard clacking in the background. Then silence. Then more clacking, followed by another stretch of silence.
"I'm sorry, Sergeant," the supervisor said, "but we have no account listed under that address."