Never Cross a Vampire by Stuart M. Kaminsky

All-Stars?”
    â€œNo,” I said, “with Baugh at quarterback, the Bears will be lucky to win.”
    â€œMaybe so,” he said doubtfully as the door opened to reveal Wilson Wong, who wore a dark business suit and tie and a surprised look.
    The two men exchanged words in Chinese and Wong turned to me as the waiter left.
    â€œPlease come in, Mr. Peters,” he said. “It is Peters, isn’t it?”
    â€œRight,” I said as he closed the door behind us.
    It was less an office than a library. Three walls were filled with books. If there was a window, it was covered by books. A firm reading chair stood in one corner with a light over it, and a desk stood off to the right with neat piles of notes. Wong offered me a chair and I sat down. He joined me, passing up the reading chair so we’d be at the same level of comfort or lack of it.
    In the basement of the theater two nights earlier, Wilson Wong had appeared the energetic gadfly. In his office, he looked anything but.
    â€œIt was my belief that our real names were to be kept secret,” he said, “but I am not surprised. Mr. Billings is not the most discreet of souls. Can I offer you some coffee, tea?”
    â€œTea,” I said, thinking it appropriate for the setting.
    Wong went to his telephone, pressed a button, and said something in Chinese. I assumed he was ordering tea or my assassination, depending on whether I had come to the right or wrong suspect. He settled himself back in his chair and looked at me with curiosity.
    â€œNow,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
    â€œThe easiest thing is for me to tell you the story and you to give me some answers,” I said. He thought that would be fine so I got comfortable, meaning I let my sore leg hang free, and told him the Lugosi tale and my part in it. He listened, nodded, and paused only to answer the knock at his door and the delivery of tea on a dark tray. He put the tray on the desk and poured us both cups of tea.
    â€œI’m afraid I can’t help you greatly, Mr. Peters,” he said. “Unless your visit convinces you to eliminate me from your list of suspects, thus simplifying your task.”
    â€œThat’s one way,” I said. “Now can you convince me that you have no reason to give Lugosi a bad time?”
    â€œRather easily, I think,” said Wong with a smile. “I have almost no interest at all in Mr. Lugosi. If you look around at my shelves, you will discover two kinds of books in both English and Chinese. Many of my books are sociological in nature. Some are historical and quite a few are on the occult. Although this business is mine through inheritance and is one in which I take deep familial pride, my primary interest is in the exploration of social groups, cults if you will, that use the occult as a focal point. While I do not display it prominently as a matter of pride, I hold a Ph.D. degree in sociology from the University of Southern California and I do some teaching at the university. I have also written two books on the subject we have been discussing for the University of California Press.”
    â€œThen you have no real interest in …”
    â€œNo,” he finished for me. “The group itself is somewhat interesting but I’ve gathered about as much from them as I care to, and I have been contemplating removing myself from their midst, though it is difficult, considering the small membership. One develops a certain affection and understanding.”
    â€œLos Angeles must be a pretty good area for your work,” I said, draining my tea cup and getting a refill.
    â€œIt is, indeed,” said Wong. “I think that is one of the reasons I concentrated on this specialization. I would be foolish to attempt to study the social life of the Eskimo with a base in Los Angeles.”
    â€œI see your point,” I said. “Can you give me any suggestions or ideas about who might be the