Language in the Blood

  Chapter 19: Nanette

  I had seen her around a few times – a slim brunette, possibly of Arabic descent and with exquisite taste. She looked to be in her early forties and was still very beautiful. I often saw her talking to people and while her mouth would sometimes pull into a smile, her eyes never did. She seemed mysterious and distant to me. Three weeks after the murder of Yvette she approached me at a yacht party.

  ‘So Cameron. what do you do for a living?’ she asked, obviously trying to sound bored as she looked beyond me at the lights of Cannes.

  ‘As little as possible, my dear,’ I said airily. What did she want with me? The men she hung around with were usually much older and richer. ‘And what do you do, Nanette?’ I asked.

  She took a drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. ‘I marry,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t know marrying was a profession,’ I replied, intrigued by this glamorous but frosty woman.

  ‘Oh trust me, it’s hard work,’ she said, slowly walking towards the back of the deck. I followed her wondering why she had wanted to talk to me. I’d heard her husband was bedridden and had not been seen in public for many years. ‘So, you like jewellery?’ she continued.

  She must have noticed me looking at the fabulous Bulgari necklace and bracelet she was wearing. The bracelet was one of their gold and enamel snake designs from the 1960s and it suited her perfectly. I felt her bite would be venomous too.

  ‘I like all beautiful things,’ I said moving closer and giving her my most charming smile. She raised her eyebrows and looked at me mockingly. She took another drag of her cigarette, but I turned away before she could exhale in my face again. I’m not a candidate for husband number two then. So what does she want with me?

  ‘It’s a shame they’re so often the cause for such ugliness. Wasn’t that ghastly murder and robbery in Cannes that I read about in the papers terrible – one feels quite scared these days wearing jewellery.’

  She looked at me intently with her strange, almost golden, eyes. Did she know something?

  ‘I’m sure they’ll catch the killer soon. The police will pull in all their resources to solve a high profile case like that,’ I said. I tried to sound calm, but there was something unsettling about her.

  ‘Hmm. They say the killer was almost like a ghost,’ she said, holding my gaze. ‘The building has CCTV but the only people seen entering were the residents.’ Oh my god! I’d never had a woman look at me with such hatred in her eyes!

  ‘Maybe it was a resident then. That’s why I live on a boat; never trusted neighbours,’ I said, trying to sound cheerful.

  ‘Yes. The Count Dracula, isn’t it? Funny name to choose,’ and she gave me another of her looks. What does she want and why does she hate me? ‘I never see you in any of the papers. It’s almost as though you don’t like having your picture taken,’ she went on.

  ‘Come to think of it, I never see yours either, Nanette. I suppose we’re just not rich or famous enough,’ I joked.

  We were now standing alone by the railing. Nanette quickly looked around us, then snarled, ‘I know what you are! We both stand around with a glass but never drink! How long have you been dead?’

  I grabbed her arm and pulled her close. She was as cold as I was and I felt no pulse. How had I not guessed it? ‘I died in 1915. How long have you been...?’

  ‘Only since 1998, but I feel I know more about behaving inconspicuously than you do! You’ve been rather an idiot with this Yvette business,’ she hissed.

  ‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about,’ I said, trying not to be alarmed. Fuck! She hates me and she could kill me.

  ‘Don’t be naïve! Any high profile murder case brings unwanted attention, and that’s bad for us both. The slightest hint of vampire would initiate a witch hunt. You should leave and I’ll keep a low profile for a while.’

  I didn’t agree with her, but I knew that Nanette could become a big problem; if she wanted me gone, she’d find a way to make it happen.

  ‘Just sail that ridiculous boat of yours to the Caribbean. I want you gone!’

  With that, she pushed me out of the way and walked back into the crowd. I called Roberto on my mobile and asked him to bring the tender round. The party had gone stale.