"Please. We're vampires. Someone's always trying to kill us - for millennia." Pam snapped her head around when the phone rang. Before the bartender could spin and snatch the receiver, Midnight stood on his stool and answered the phone.
"Hello? Speaking. Hello, Sergeant Murphy. I would need something personal. It would be a help. I understand. Good night, Sergeant Murphy." He handed the receiver to the bartender who was drumming his fingers on the bar. Midnight exhaled the last of his smoke before stubbing out his cigar.
"More bodies." He turned to John. "We'd better hurry."
"Are we disposing bodies?" Pam sounded perky and tired at the same time.