Mr. Vampire Who Lives in My Neighbourhood

8

"He's got a great situation - high salary, respected in the police force. Lots of women are interested in him."

"Well if you admire him so much, he's all yours."

"I'm just looking out for you, Florence." Her supervisor clearly didn't know how to seize an opportunity.

"Please return to your work station. If you feel you don't have enough to do, I can assign you more tasks."

Florence was asserting her authority. Toni had no choice but to gracefully return to work. But as she reached the door, she couldn't resist turning back around.

"You sure you don't want to reconsider?"

"Toni!" Florence glared at her. Toni stuck out her tongue playfully and hurried out.

Florence shook her head and sighed, sitting back down at her computer and staring at the data and files - her mind wandering to what Toni had said. Agent Wade did have a certain charm, with a steady confidence and masculinity. But she just wasn't into him. Instead, she couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious man with long dark hair and eyes like two red gems set against the night that she had met last evening. He had an alluring yet eerie presence.

Was her taste in men off? She had no interest in normal guys, instead repeatedly reminiscing about that red-eyed stranger, her cheeks flushing slightly...

Good lord! What was she thinking? He was a vampire! She shook the thoughts from her head.

Back to business - the investigative bureau said this situation was irregular. Was the red-eyed man good or evil? Did he really commit murder? She felt he wasn't a bad person, just unique in his behaviors. She found herself worrying about him.

Worrying? The word jolted her. She could hardly believe herself. It must be the shock of meeting a real vampire that made her, someone who only ever believed in scientific evidence, start thinking so abnormally.

Was it just that she had been around dead bodies too long in her line of work, and it had made her perspectives deviate from the norm? No wonder her colleagues kept suggesting she go on dates with living men. She sighed.

The red eyes appeared again in her mind and she drifted off into yet another daydream...

Florence's upscale downtown apartment building was situated right in the heart of the expensive central district. After finishing the day's forensic work late into the evening and responding with police to a homicide scene, visiting multiple sites to determine which was the location of the initial murder and documenting evidence - they finally established a time of death, transported the body to the morgue, notified next of kin, and she returned to the examiner's lab to supervise her team in divvying up tasks. She then performed the autopsy on the victim herself.

By the time she got home, it was already past 8 pm.

As she approached the entrance of her building, she noticed a small crowd by the door with a truck parked. New neighbors seemed to be moving in.

"Mrs. Landlady?"

Florence was surprised to see the widow, as she rarely made appearances, with her daughter usually handling rental matters. But what astonished her even more was the makeup plastered on the landlady's face - faded features obscured by thick, garish paint. Bold eyeshadow and lip colors resembling an artist's palette. Her daughter had a similarly loud look, with an outfit more fitting for a streetwalker than her usual conservative attire.

What had provoked this dramatic change in the normally modest women?