Dead Ever After (Sookie Stackhouse #13)(49)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"Even witches sing the blues," I said, and she grinned at me.

"This is going to be one awesome baby," she said.

Chapter 14

Mr. Cataliades came in to tell us he’d been talking to Beth Osiecki by cell phone and that he had an appointment to meet her and review my situation. Diantha rode into town with him; I didn’t ask what her part in this consultation was supposed to be, and she didn’t volunteer. Barry decided to ride in with them, too, and see if there was another car to rent locally while he was in town. He’d called ahead to make sure Chessie Johnson would be at home and was willing to talk to him.

Barry was used to getting answers from people indirectly, by listening to their heads when they were in conversation with others. In other words, eavesdropping. Since he’d be the one asking the questions in this instance, he was a little anxious about the process. I briefed him as thoroughly as I could on the Johnsons and on Lisa and Coby. He had prepared a list of questions to which he needed answers: Whom had Arlene been planning to meet? Where had she been staying since she got released? Whom had she talked to? Who had paid for the new lawyer and her bail?

"If you can," I said quietly, "please find out what’s going to happen to the kids. I feel bad for all they’ve been through." Barry could see what was in my head. He nodded, his face serious.

Bob got on the phone to a touch psychic, though since we didn’t have possession of the scarf I couldn’t see the point. Bob seemed sure we’d be able to lay hands on it. The touch psychic, a Baton Rouge woman named Delphine Oubre, would drive up to Bon Temps the next morning, he said.

"And do what?" I tried hard to sound grateful and appreciative, but I didn’t think I managed. I had done the most accurate drawing of the scarf that I could, and I’d described the pattern and the colors to Diantha, since saying "teal green" and "peacock blue" to Mr. Cataliades had just resulted in a blank stare. Diantha had done a second version in color, and it had looked very like what I’d remembered.

"I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. Your demon buddies are pretty resourceful." Bob smiled mysteriously and glided out of the room. In some ways, Bob was still very catlike.

Amelia was researching spells to make Arlene’s mysterious male friends talk, if we could find them. I had a moment of longing for Pam. She could make anybody talk, no spell involved, unless you considered vamp hypnosis a spell. Pam would rather beat it out of them, anyway. Maybe I’d give her a call.

No. I told myself this firmly, and frequently. At this point, it was better if I simply let all connection with the vampires drop. Sure, Bill still lived next door, and it was inevitable that I’d see him from time to time. Sure, Eric had left a couple of things in the hidey-hole in my guest bedroom. Sure, Quinn reported that he’d smelled two vamps (almost surely Bill and Karin) in the woods. But I’d decided I was going to pretend there was a wall between me and every vampire in Area Five. Between me and every vampire in the world!

I checked my e-mail. I’d gotten one from Sam. Full of anticipation, I clicked on it. "Come to work this morning," was all it said. Quinn had e-mailed me, too. "Saw a couple of people I thought I recognized in the motel bar last night," I read. "I’m going to follow them today."

Who on earth could it be? But at the idea that things were moving along, I felt a rush of optimism. I went into my room to shower and dress with a smile on my face.

When I emerged from my room ready to go to work, I found Bob and Amelia in the backyard. They’d built a little fire in a circle of old bricks, and they were scattering some herbs on it and chanting. They didn’t invite me to join them; and truthfully, magic smelled weird and made me really nervous, so I wasn’t eager to ask any questions.

I went into Merlotte’s to find it was exactly as usual. No one blinked an eye at my presence or expressed surprise that I’d turned up. As it happened, we were extremely busy. Sam was there, but every time our eyes met he looked away, as if he were ashamed of something. But I swear he was glad to see me.

Finally, I trapped him in his office. I was blocking the only exit, unless he wanted to duck into his tiny bathroom and lock the door, and he wasn’t craven enough to do that.

"Okay, spill," I said.

He seemed almost relieved, as if he’d hoped I’d demand an explanation. He looked directly at me, and if I could have climbed inside his brain and looked at it, I would have. Damn shifters.

"I can’t," he said. "I swore not to."

I narrowed my eyes while I considered. It was a serious thing, swearing, and I could hardly threaten to tickle him until he talked, or tell him I was going to hold my breath until he spilled. But I had to know what had changed. I’d thought we were getting back to normal, that Sam had started to rebuild himself after his death experience, that we were on solid ground.

"Sooner or later you’re going to have to tell me what’s wrong," I said reasonably. "If you can think of any way to give me a hint, that would be a good thing."

"I better not."

"I wish you could have come out last night," I said, changing tack. "We had a good supper, and the house was full last night."

"Did Quinn stay?" Sam asked stiffly.

"No, too crowded for that. He’s got a motel room out on the interstate. I wish you’d be friendly to him. And all my guests."

"Why do you want me to be friendly with Quinn?"

Yeah, some jealousy there. Good Lord. "Because all my company came from miles away, and they all came to help clear my name."

Sam froze for a minute. "Are you hinting that I’m not helping you like they are? That they care more about you than I do?" He was obviously angry.

"No," I said. "I don’t think that." Wow, he was super-touchy. I said hesitantly, "I did kind of wonder why you didn’t come to the court hearing?"

"You think I want to see you in handcuffs, robbed of your dignity?"

"I’d like to think I always have my dignity, Sam, cuffs or not." We glared at each other for a second or two. Then I said, "But it was pretty humiliating," and to my embarrassment, my eyes filled with tears.

He held out his arms to me and I hugged him, though I could feel the uneasiness in him. The oath he’d sworn had something in it about physical contact, I concluded. When the hug naturally ended, he kind of held me away. I let it be. I could see he thought I was going to ask him more questions. But I thought better of it.

Instead, I invited him out to the house for dinner the next night. I’d looked at the work schedule, and I’d seen that Kennedy would be behind the bar. He agreed to come, but he looked wary, as if he suspected I had a secret motive. Not at all! I just thought the more I was in his company, the more chances I’d have to find out what was going on.