“What the hell . . . ? Why?”
“Some vampire reason. I’ll find out soon enough. The point is, he left Karin there. She’s his other child, his oldest. She was supposed to protect me, but I don’t think Eric ever thought of something like this happening. I think he thought someone was going to try to sneak in the house. But assuming Karin will tell Alcee and Andy that I didn’t leave my house last night, he did me a great good deed.”
“If the police will accept the word of a vampire.”
“There’s that. And they can’t question her until tonight. And I have no idea how to get in touch with her, so I left a message with Mustapha. Here’s Part Two of the bad Eric stuff. He told me I would be seeing him tonight, but he warned me I wouldn’t like it. It sounded pretty official. I kind of have to go, if I’m not in jail, that is.” I tried to smile. “It’s not going to be fun.”
“You want me to come with you?”
That was an amazing offer. I appreciated it, and I said so. But I had to add, “I think I have to get through this by myself, Sam. Just now, the sight of you might make Eric more . . . upset.”
Sam nodded in acknowledgment. But he looked worried. After some hesitation, he said, “What do you think is going to happen, Sook? If you have to go, you have the right to have someone with you. It’s not like you are going to a movie with Eric or something.”
“I don’t think I’m in physical danger. I’m just . . . I don’t know.” I believed—I anticipated—that Eric was going to repudiate me publicly. I just couldn’t push the words out of my throat. “Some vampire bullshit,” I muttered dismally.
Sam put his hand on my shoulder. It was almost too hot for even that slight contact, but I could tell he was trying to let me know he was ready to back me up. “Where are you two meeting?”
“Fangtasia or Eric’s house, I suppose. He’ll let me know.”
“The offer stands.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at him, but it was a weak attempt. “But I don’t want anyone more agitated than they’re gonna be.” Meaning Eric.
“Then call me when you get home?”
“I can do that. Might be pretty late.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Sam had always been my friend, though we’d had our ups and our downs and our arguments. It would be insulting to tell him that he didn’t owe me anything for bringing him back to life. He knew that.
“I woke up different,” Sam said suddenly. He’d been thinking during the little pause, too.
“How?”
“I’m not sure, yet. But I’m tired of . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Of what?”
“Of living my life like there’ll be plenty of tomorrows so what I do today doesn’t matter.”
“You think something’s going to happen to you?”
“No, not exactly,” he said. “I’m afraid nothing will happen to me. When I work it out, I’ll let you know.” He smiled at me; it was a rueful smile, but it had warmth.
“Okay,” I said. I made myself smile back. “You do that.”
And we returned to watching the police do their thing, each sunk in our own thoughts. I hope Sam’s were happier than mine. I didn’t see how the day could get much crappier. But it could.
ELSEWHERE
that night
“I think we can call him now,” the medium man said, and took out his cell phone. “You take care of the throwaway.”
The tall man extracted a cheap cell phone from his pocket. He stomped on it a few times, enjoying the crushing of the glass and metal. He picked up the carcass of the telephone and dropped it into a deep puddle. The short driveway from the road to the front of the trailer was dimpled with such puddles. Anyone driving in would be sure to press the phone into the mud.
The medium man would have preferred some method of disposal that completely obliterated the little collection of circuitry and metal, but that would do. He was frowning when the call he placed went through.
“Yes?” said a silky voice.
“It’s done. The body’s found, the scarf was on it, I retrieved the magic coin, and I’ve planted the charm in the detective’s car.”
“Call me again when it happens,” said the voice. “I want to enjoy it.”
“Then we’re through with this project,” the medium man said, and he might have been a little hopeful that was so. “And the money will be in our accounts. It’s been a pleasure working with you.” His voice was quite empty of sincerity.
“No,” said the voice on the other end. It held such promise; you just knew that whoever could speak that way must be beautiful. The medium man, who’d actually met the owner of the voice, shuddered. “No,” the voice repeated. “Not quite through.”
Chapter 7
By the time I was able to leave work, I felt like I’d been steamed and left out on the counter.
We had gotten to open at three on the dot, to my surprise. By then rumors and facts had spread all over Bon Temps. A big crowd showed up at Merlotte’s just pining to get the lowdown on what had actually happened. What with questions from every customer and the endless speculations of Andrea Norr, I was fixing to start screaming.
“So who could have put her in the Dumpster, and how’d they get her in there?” An said for the fiftieth time. “Antoine puts the kitchen trash in there. That’s disgusting.”
“It sure is,” I said, just managing not to bite her head off. “That’s why we’re not going to talk about it.”
“Okay! Okay! I get your drift, Sookie. Mum’s the word. At least I’m telling everyone that you didn’t do it, sweetie.” And she went right back to talking. There was no doubt that gossipy An had the mysterious “it.” Following her movements around the bar was like watching an all-male rendition of the wave.
It was nice to know that An was telling everyone I wasn’t guilty, but it was depressing to think that anyone would have assumed I was. An’s reasoning echoed that of the detectives. It seemed impossible that a lone woman could lift Arlene, literally a dead weight, up into the mouth of the Dumpster.
In fact, when I tried to picture the insertion, the only way such a maneuver would work for one person would be if the killer already had Arlene over his shoulder (and I was using his because it would take a strong person to lift Arlene that way). She had gotten skinny, but she was still no featherweight.
Two people could do it easily enough—or one supernatural of any gender.
I glanced over at Sam, working behind the bar. Since he was a shifter, he was incredibly strong. He could easily have tossed Arlene’s corpse into the trash.
He could have, but he hadn’t.
The most obvious reason was that he would never put Arlene’s corpse in the Dumpster right behind his business in the first place. Second, Sam would never have staged himself finding the body with me as witness. And third, I simply didn’t believe he would have killed Arlene, not without some compelling reason or in the heat of some terrible struggle. Fourth, he would already have told me if either of those circumstances applied.
If Andy understood that I couldn’t get Arlene in there by myself, he must be trying to figure out who would help me do such a thing. When I considered that, I did have a lot of friends and acquaintances who were not strangers to body disposal. They would help me with few questions asked. But what did that say about my life?