Sookie 13 Dead Ever After (21 page)

“And what happened to Erica?”

“She was dead before I even knew about the coup.”

There was a depth of self-loathing in his voice.

“We have limitations,” I said. “We can’t get accurate readings of every thought in every brain every minute. You know people don’t think in whole sentences, like, ‘I’m going to the First National Bank today at ten o’clock, and when I get there, I’m getting in line at Judy Murello’s window. Then I’m pulling out my .357 Magnum and robbing the bank.’ ”

“I know that.” The storm in his head subsided a little bit. “But Joseph decided I didn’t tell him because of my relationship with Erica. Mr. Cataliades showed up out of nowhere. I don’t know why. Next thing I knew, I was leaving with him. I don’t know why he rescued me. Joseph made it pretty clear I would never work for vampires again; he was putting the word out.”

Yep, Mr. C had definitely not told Barry about their blood relationship. “You think Erica knew about Brady’s plan?”

“Yeah,” Barry said, sounding tired and sad. “I’m sure she knew enough to warn me, and she didn’t. I just never picked up the plan from her. I’m sure she was sorry she hadn’t told me, before she died. But she died, anyway.”

“Tough,” I said. Inadequate, but sincere.

“Speaking of tough, I hear your vamp’s going to get hitched to someone else.” Barry was all too quick to change the subject.

“It’s all over vampireland, I guess,” I said.

“Sure. Freyda is outstanding. Plenty of guys have been trying to get in line to get a piece of Freyda since it went around that she was looking for a consort. Power plus looks plus money, and plenty of room for expansion in Oklahoma. Casinos and oil wells. With an ass-kicker like Eric behind her, she’ll build an empire.”

“That’ll be just lovely,” I said, sounding as tired and sad as he had. Barry seemed much more plugged into the gossip in the vampire world than I’d ever been. Maybe I’d been “among but not of” more than I’d needed to be. Maybe there was more truth to Eric’s accusations about my prejudice against vampire culture than I’d believed. But vampires were users of humans, so I was mostly simply glad I’d never told Eric about my cousin Hadley’s son, Hunter.

“So, there’s another one of us?” Barry asked, and the question hit me hard. I was so damn used to being the only mind-reader around. In a second I was about an inch from his face, and my hand was gripping the front of his T-shirt.

“You say anything about Hunter to anyone, and I’ll bet you have a really bad visitor some night,” I said, meaning it with every atom in my body. My cousin Hunter was going to stay safe if I had to be the bad visitor myself. Hunter was only five, and I wasn’t having him kidnapped and trained to serve some vampire king or queen. It was hard enough to reach adulthood if you were telepathic. Having people wanting to snatch you for the advantage you could give them? That would be a million times worse.

“Hey, back off!” Barry said angrily. “I came here to help you, not to make things worse. Cataliades must know.”

“Just keep your mouth shut about Hunter,” I said, and stepped away. “You know what a difference that will make. I’m not worried about Mr. Cataliades telling anyone.”

“All right,” Barry said, relaxing a fraction. “You can be sure I’ll keep my mouth shut. I know how hard it is when you’re a kid. I swear I won’t tell.” He expelled a deep breath to let out all the agitation. I did, too.

“You know who I saw ten days ago in New Orleans?” Barry said, his voice so hushed I had to lean forward to hear. I raised my eyebrows to let him know to get on with it.
Johan Glassport
, he said silently, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Johan Glassport was a lawyer. I’ve known many nice people who were lawyers, so I’m not going to make a lawyer joke out of this; Johan Glassport was also a sadist and a murderer. Evidently, when you’re a brilliant lawyer, you can get away with a lot of stuff. He had. I’d last seen Glassport in Rhodes. I’d understood he’d gone to Mexico to hide out after the terrible explosion at the hotel. He’d been on television then, part of the bedraggled and injured cluster of survivors, and I had always thought he feared he might be recognized by someone. There had to be plenty of people who dreaded the sight of him.
Did he see you?
I asked.

“I don’t think so.”
He was on a streetcar, and I was on the sidewalk.

“It’s never good to see Johan,” I muttered. “Why is he back in the States?”

“I hope we never find out. And I’ll tell you something strange. Glassport’s brain was opaque.”

“Did you tell Mr. Cataliades?” I said.

Yes. He didn’t say anything, though. But he looked grim. Grimmer than usual.

“I did see him,” Desmond Cataliades said, making one of his sudden appearances. “In fact, New Orleans has been full of unexpected creatures lately. But more about that later. Glassport told me he’d got business in Louisiana. He’d been hired by someone who had a great store of wealth. Someone who didn’t want to be seen by anyone. Glassport said he had been out of the country recruiting at this someone’s behest.”

“I wonder who?”

“Ordinarily, I could have told you,” the part-demon said. “But as Barry has said, Glassport has acquired some kind of protection charm, perhaps fae in origin. I can’t hear his thoughts.”

“I didn’t know you could buy such an item!” I was surprised. “Surely that’s a hard thing to create?”

“Humans aren’t capable of it. Only a few supernaturals.”

That was why we were all looking anxious and concerned when Amelia came out of the kitchen, hand in hand with Bob.

“Aw, that’s so sweet! But don’t worry about us,” she said, smiling. “Bob and I are happy as clams about the baby, now that we’ve gotten over the shock of it.” I was glad to see her happiness, and Bob’s, but I was also sorry I couldn’t pursue the conversation about Johan Glassport to its conclusion. It was bad news that he was anywhere in Louisiana.

Amelia’s smile began to falter when she didn’t get the reaction she’d expected.

“Amelia and Bob are having a baby!” I said, making myself beam at Mr. Cataliades. Of course, he already knew it.

“Yeah, I’m pregnant, Mr. C!” She recovered her excitement in telling the part-demon lawyer. Obligingly, he did his best to look startled and delighted.

“We’re going to raise the baby together. Wait until I tell my father! He’s gonna be so ticked because we’re not married,” Amelia said. She seemed a bit pleased at vexing her father, who ordered other people around all day, every day.

“Amelia,” I said, “Bob doesn’t have a real father left to share with this baby. This baby might enjoy having a grandfather.”

Amelia was totally taken aback. I hadn’t known I was going to say that until it popped out of my mouth. I waited to see if she’d be angry. I saw the flash of offense cross her mind, then a more mature thoughtfulness. “I’ll think about that,” she said, and that was certainly more than enough. “My dad’s changed a lot lately, for sure.” I could hear her thinking,
And kind of inexplicably.
I didn’t know what to make of that.

“Interesting that you said that, Amelia,” the demon lawyer said. “Let’s talk about why we’re here. There’s much I wanted to say on the drive up here, but not only was I busy trying to check to see if we were being followed, I didn’t want to have to repeat everything for Sookie.”

Everyone settled in the living room. Diantha helped me carry out drinks and cookies and little napkins. I had definitely overbought for that baby shower. No one seemed to mind the green and yellow rattles motif, though. I hadn’t seen any napkins at Hallmark themed for a supernatural summit.

Mr. Cataliades acted as the chairman of this meeting. “Before we plan our course of action about the main topic—the accusation that Sookie murdered Arlene Fowler—there are others we need to discuss. Miss Amelia, I have to ask you to keep the news of your pregnancy confined to this group, just for the moment. Please don’t make it the subject of any telephone calls or text messages to your nearest and dearest, though I know you’re excited.” He smiled at her in a way clearly meant to be reassuring.

Amelia was startled and concerned, expressions that sat oddly on someone as fresh and bright-eyed as she was. Bob dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew what Mr. Cataliades was saying, while Amelia did not.

“For how long?” she said.

“For only a day or two. Surely the news will wait that long?” He smiled again.

“All right,” she agreed, after a glance at Bob, who nodded.

“Now to talk about the murder of Arlene Fowler,” Mr. Cataliades said, as heartily as if he’d just announced that earnings for the last quarter were way up.

Clearly, the lawyer knew a lot of things I didn’t know and was choosing not to share those items, which bothered me. But after he said the word “murder,” he had my complete attention.

“Please tell us everything you know about the late Arlene, and tell us how you came to see her again after her release from prison,” Mr. Cataliades said.

So I began talking.

It took a surprisingly long time to relate everything I knew about
Arlene and her activities, including my concerns about Alcee Beck. Bob, Amelia, Barry, Diantha, and Mr. Cataliades offered a lot of opinions and ideas, and asked a lot of questions.

Amelia focused on the two men Arlene had mentioned, presumably the same two men Jane had witnessed her meeting behind Tray Dawson’s empty house. Amelia proposed to lay a truth spell on them to find out what Arlene had handed them. She was a little hazy about how she intended to track them down, but she told us that she had a few ideas. She made an effort to sound nonchalant, but she was quivering with eagerness.

Bob wanted to call a touch psychic he knew in New Orleans, and he wondered if we could persuade the police to let the psychic hold the scarf to get a reading. I said that was a definite no.

Barry thought we should talk to Arlene’s kids and Brock and Chessie Johnson, to see if Arlene had said anything about her plans to them.

Diantha thought we should steal the scarf, and then they’d have no evidence on me at all. I have to admit, that option really resonated with me. I knew I hadn’t done it. I knew the police weren’t looking in the right direction. And, frankly, even more than I wanted Arlene’s murderer to be found, I knew I didn’t want to go to jail. At all. Ever again.

Diantha also wanted to search Alcee Beck’s car. “I’ll know a magic object when I see it,” she said, and that was a truth no one could argue. The problem was, a skinny, strangely dressed white girl was going to look a little conspicuous searching anyone’s car, much less the car of an African-American police detective.

Desmond Cataliades told us that in his opinion, the case against me was weak, especially since I had a witness who could place me in bed at my home at the probable time of the murder. “It’s a pity your witness is a vampire—not only a vampire, but one new to the area and bound to your ex-lover,” he said in his ponderous way. “However, Karin is certainly better than no witness at all. I must talk to her soon.”

“She’ll be out in the woods tonight,” I said, “if she follows her pattern.”

“You truly believe that Detective Beck was spelled with something?”

“I do,” I said. “Though I didn’t understand what I was seeing at the time. I tried to get Andy Bellefleur to tell Alcee to search his car. I hoped Alcee would find the hex, or whatever you call it, and understand that he’d been supernaturally influenced against me. Obviously, that’s not going to work. So if we can think of a way to get the magic object out of Alcee’s vehicle, we need to move on that plan. When it’s removed, I hope things will get a lot better for me.” And God knew, I wanted things to get better. I glanced at the clock. It was one p.m.

“Amelia, we have some things we need to talk about,” Mr. Cataliades said, and Amelia looked apprehensive. “But first, let’s go into town and get lunch. Even passive deliberations call for energy.”

We packed into Mr. Cataliades’s rental van for the short drive into town. As we were seated at Lucky Bar-B-Q, we garnered more attention than I wanted. Of course, people recognized me, and there were a few glances and a few mutters—but I was pretty much prepared for that. The real eye-catcher was Diantha, who’d never dressed like an average human being because she wasn’t. Diantha’s clothes were bright and random. Green yoga tights, a cerise tutu, an orange leotard, cowboy boots . . . well, it was a bold ensemble.

At least she smiled a lot; that was something.

Even aside from Diantha’s exceptional wardrobe choices (and that was a big “even aside”), we simply didn’t look like we belonged together.

Luckily, our waiter was a high school kid named Joshua Bee, a distant cousin of Calvin Norris’s. Joshua wasn’t a werepanther, but as a connection of the Norris clan, he knew a lot about the world most humans didn’t see. He was polite and quick, and he wasn’t a bit frightened. That was a relief.

After we’d ordered, Desmond Cataliades was telling us about the progress of post-Katrina reconstruction in New Orleans. “Amelia’s father has played a large part,” he said. “Copley Carmichael’s name is on a lot of rebuilding contracts. Especially in the last few months.”

“He had some difficulties,” Bob said quietly. “There was an article in the paper. We don’t see Copley a lot, since he and Amelia have issues. But we were kind of worried about him. Since the New Year came in . . . well, everything’s turned around for him.”

“Yes, we’ll talk about that when we’re in a more private place,” Mr. Cataliades said.

Amelia looked worried, but she accepted that well.

I knew she didn’t really want to know that her father was up to no good. She suspected it already, and she was frightened. Amelia and her father had an adversarial relationship on many fronts, but she loved him . . . most of the time.

Diantha was making cat’s cradles with a piece of string she’d pulled from her pocket, Barry and Mr. Cataliades were having an awkward conversation about the true meaning of the word “barbecue,” and I was trying to think of another conversational topic when an old friend of mine walked into Lucky’s.