“Not exactly.” That seemed like enough information to volunteer.
Gary unbent a little, hooking his arm over the top of a pew as he looked at me. Enough time passed to let me know that he was politely not asking about my dad before he asked, “Then what do they call you?”
“Joanie, or Joanne, usually. Sometimes Anne, Annie.”
Gary straightened up, hands in the small of his back. “My wife was named Anne. You don’t look like an Anne to me.”
I smiled. “What’d she look like?”
“’Bout four eleven, blond hair, brown eyes, petite. You gotta be at least a foot taller than she was.”
“Yeah.” It came out sounding like a laugh, and I smiled again. “So call me Jo, then.”
“You sure? I don’t think you get along with your old man.”
“I don’t not get along with him.” How had I ended up in a church looking for a body and discussing my home life? “It’s okay. I don’t mind Jo.” I waited for the muscle in my shoulder blade to spasm again. It always did when I was tense. This time it didn’t. Maybe I really didn’t mind being called Jo. Who knew?
“There’s nobody in here, Jo,” Gary repeated. I tried to stuff my hands in my pockets, only to discover I didn’t have any. The thing I’d learned about traveling was that it was slightly less miserable if I wore stretch pants with an elastic waistband. The ones I was wearing were black and comfy and had nice straight legs, but no pockets. I hooked my thumbs into the strap of my fanny pack, instead. I hated the things, but I never learned to carry a purse, and a fanny pack is at least attached to me. Makes it harder to forget.
“C’mon, let’s go. Nobody here.”
“No, wait.”
Gary sighed, exasperated, and leaned against a pew, arms folded across his chest. Seventy-three or not, he made a pretty impressive wall of a man. “Then do your thing and find the broad.”
I looked at him. “My thing?”
“You got some kinda thing going on here, lady. Normal people don’t stick their heads out a plane window and see dames that need rescuing. So do your thing and rescue her. My meter’s still running.”
Oh, God. It probably was, too. “Hope you take credit cards.” I walked to the front of the church and around the pulpit.
I really, honest-to-God, expected to see the woman cowering in the back side of the pulpit. That she wasn’t came as a shock. “Well, shit.”
“What? You find your body after all?” Gary shoved off his pew and came long-legging it up to the front.
“No, you ghoul. There’s nobody here. I really thought she would be.”
“I’ll cut you a break and won’t expect a tip, just for the satisfaction of being right.” He leaned on the pulpit, grinning whitely at me. I had the sudden urge to pop him in those nice straight clean teeth. It must have shown in my face, because his grin got even wider. “You wanna try it?”
“No,” I said sourly. “I think you’d break me in half.”
“Only a little bit.”
“Gee. Thanks.” I backed up a couple steps and leaned on the edge of the…hell if I know what it’s called. Looked like an altar to me. All gilded and dour. It had probably never been introduced to a woman’s behind in its whole existence. Or maybe it had been. You always heard stories about the priest who’s a pillar of the community but turns out to be having affairs with half the congregation. Seemed to me if you’re going to sin, you might as well do it right. On the altar would be a nice big sin. “I thought she’d be here.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Churches are supposed to be sanctuary, or something. I thought she’d be safe in here. Consecrated ground.”
“What century are you living in, lady?”
“The wrong one, I guess.” I thumped on the edge of the altar, annoyed.
The top slipped.
I leaped off it like it had bitten me. Gary’s bushy eyebrows went up. We both stared at the inch-wide crack at the edge of the box where the lid had pushed back. “You don’t believe in vampires, do you, Gary?”
“God damn it,” he said, “I was trying real hard not to think that way.”
“Kind of fits, though, doesn’t it? Scary-looking church, big old crypt in the middle, the living dead ris—”
“It’s past dawn,” Gary said hastily. “No vampires after dawn. Right?”
“There’s no such thing as vampires, Gary.”
He stared at me dubiously. I stared at the crypt dubiously. Funny how a second ago it had been an altar and now it was a crypt. “Well?” he demanded. “Are you gonna look in it?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“As soon as I get up the nerve.”
He prodded me in the small of my back, pushing me forward. I admired the resistance in my body. I felt like he was trying to move a me-shaped lead weight. I expected to hear my feet scraping along with the sound of metal ripping up hardwood. Instead, I stumbled half a step forward, then glared over my shoulder at Gary. “You’re a big strong man. Aren’t you supposed to be plunging into danger before me?”
“You’re forty-seven years younger than me, lady,” he pointed out. “And almost as tall as I am. And you’re in my weight class. And it’s your vampire in the coffin.”
“I am not in your weight class,” I said, offended. “You’ve got to outweigh me by at least forty pounds.” I edged a quarter of a step closer to the crypt. “And it’s not a vampire.”
“How much do you weigh?”
“Isn’t it rude to ask a woman how much she weighs?”
“Nah, it’s rude to ask how old she is, and I already know.”
Oh. Damn. I stepped forward, holding my breath. The crypt didn’t do anything. “I weigh one seventy-two.”
“No shit?”
“I’m almost six feet tall, Gary, what do you want me to weigh, a hundred and thirty? I’d be dead.” I peeked into the little hole the lid made where it had slid over. If there was a vampire in there, it was a very small, very hidden vampire. Or maybe it blended with shadows well. Vampires were supposed to do that, weren’t they?
I was scaring myself. “Give me a hand with this.”
Gary crept forward. “I outweigh you by sixty pounds.”
“That’s why you’re a linebacker, and I’m not. Push on three.
