This was very bad.
I went reluctantly to the front door and unlocked it. I pushed out the screen door.
Bill was holding the body of my cat.
“Tina?” I said, hearing my voice quaver and not caring at all. “Is she dead?”
Bill nodded, one little jerk of his head.
“What—how?”
“Strangled, I think.”
I could feel my face crumple. Bill had to stand there holding the corpse while I cried my eyes out.
“I never got that live oak,” I said, having calmed a little. I didn’t sound very steady. “We can put her in that hole.” So around to the backyard we went, poor Bill holding Tina, trying to look comfortable about it, and me trying not to dissolve again. Bill knelt and lay the little bundle of black fur at the bottom of my excavation. I fetched the shovel and began to fill it in, but the sight of the first dirt hitting Tina’s fur undid me all over again. Silently, Bill took the shovel from my hands. I turned my back, and he finished the awful job.
“Come inside,” he said gently when it was finished.
We went in the house, having to walk around to the front because I hadn’t yet unlocked the back.
Bill patted me and comforted me, though I knew he hadn’t ever been crazy about Tina. “God bless you, Bill,” I whispered. I tightened my arms around him ferociously, in a sudden convulsion of fear that he, too, would be taken from me. When I’d gotten the sobs reduced to hiccups, I looked up, hoping I hadn’t made him uncomfortable with my flood of emotion.
Bill was furious. He was staring at the wall over my shoulder, and his eyes were glowing. He was the most frightening thing I’d ever seen in my life.
“Did you find anything out in the yard?” I asked.
“No. I found traces of his presence. Some footprints, a lingering scent. Nothing you could bring into court as proof,” he went on, reading my mind.
“Would you mind staying here until you have to go to . . . get away from the sun?”
“Of course.” He stared at me. He’d fully intended to do that whether or not I agreed, I could tell.
“If you still need to make phone calls, just make them here. I don’t care.” I meant if they were on my phone bill.
“I have a calling card,” he said, once again astonishing me. Who would have thought?
I washed my face and took a Tylenol before I put on my nightgown, sadder than I’d been since Gran had been killed, and sadder in different way. The death of a pet is naturally not in the same category as the death of a family member, I chided myself, but it didn’t seem to affect my misery. I went through all the reasoning I was capable of and came no closer to any truth except the fact that I’d fed and brushed and loved Tina for four years, and I would miss her.
Chapter 11
MY NERVES WERE raw the next day. When I got to work and told Arlene what had happened, she gave me a hard hug, and said, “I’d like to kill the bastard that did that to poor Tina!” Somehow, that made me feel a lot better. Charlsie was just as sympathetic, if more concerned with the shock to me rather than the agonized demise of my cat. Sam just looked grim. He thought I should call the sheriff, or Andy Bellefleur, and tell one of them what had happened. I finally did call Bud Dearborn.
“Usually these things go in cycles,” Bud rumbled. “Ain’t nobody else reported a pet missing or dead, though. I’m afraid it sounds like some kind a personal thing, Sookie. That vampire friend of yours, he like cats?”
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I was using the phone in Sam’s office, and he was sitting behind the desk figuring out his next liquor order.
“Bill was at home when whoever killed Tina threw her on my porch,” I said as calmly as I could. “I called him directly afterward, and he answered the phone.” Sam looked up quizzically, and I rolled my eyes to let him know my opinion of the sheriff’s suspicions.
“And he told you the cat was strangled,” Bud went on ponderously.
“Yes.”
“Do you have the ligature?”
“No. I didn’t even see what it was.”
“What did you do with the kitty?”
“We buried her.”
“Was that your idea or Mr. Compton’s?”
“Mine.” What else would we have done with Tina?
“We may come dig your kitty up. If we had had the ligature and the cat, maybe we could see if the method of strangulation matched the method used in killing Dawn and Maudette,” Bud explained ponderously.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”
“Well, it don’t matter much. Without the ligature.”
“Okay, good-bye.” I hung up, probably applying a little more pressure than the receiver required. Sam’s eyebrows lifted.
“Bud is a jerk,” I told him.
“Bud’s not a bad policeman,” Sam said quietly. “None of us here are used to murders that are this sick.”
“You’re right,” I admitted, after a moment. “I wasn’t being fair. He just kept saying ‘ligature’ like he was proud he’d learned a new word. I’m sorry I got mad at him.”
“You don’t have to be perfect, Sookie.”
“You mean I get to screw up and be less than understanding and forgiving, from time to time? Thanks, boss.” I smiled at him, feeling the wry twist to my lips, and got up off the edge of his desk where I’d been propped to make my phone call. I stretched. It wasn’t until I saw the way Sam’s eyes drank in that stretch that I became self-conscious again. “Back to work!” I said briskly and strode out of the room, trying to make sure there wasn’t a hint of sway to my hips.
“Would you keep the kids for a couple of hours this evening?” Arlene asked, a little shyly. I remembered the last time we’d talked about my keeping her kids, and I remembered the offense I’d taken at her reluctance to leave her kids with a vampire. I hadn’t been thinking like a mother would think. Now, Arlene was trying to apologize.
“I’d be glad to.” I waited to see if Arlene would mention Bill again, but she didn’t. “When to when?”
“Well, Rene and I are gonna go to the movies in Monroe,” she said. “Say, six-thirty?”
“Sure. Will they have had supper?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll feed ’em. They’ll be excited to see their aunt Sookie.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Thanks,” Arlene said. She paused, almost said something else, then appeared to think again. “See you at six-thirty.”
I got home about five, most of the way driving against the sun, which was glaring like it was staring me down. I changed to a blue-and-green knit short set, brushed my hair and secured it with a banana clip. I had a sandwich, sitting uneasily by myself at the kitchen table. The house felt big and empty, and I was glad to see Rene drive up with Coby and Lisa.
“Arlene’s having trouble with one of her artificial nails,” he explained, looking embarrassed at having to relay this feminine problem. “And Coby and Lisa were raring to get over here.” I noticed Rene was still in his work clothes—heavy boots, knife, hat, and all. Arlene wasn’t going to let him take her anywhere until he showered and changed.
Coby was eight and Lisa was five, and they were hanging all over me like big earrings when Rene bent to kiss them good-bye. His affection for the kids gave Rene a big gold star in my book, and I smiled at him approvingly. I took the kids’ hands to lead them back to the kitchen for some ice cream.
“We’ll see you about ten-thirty, eleven,” he said. “If that’s all right.” He put his hand on the doorknob.
“Sure,” I agreed. I opened my mouth to offer to keep the kids for the night, as I’d done on previous occasions, but then I thought of Tina’s limp body. I decided that tonight they’d better not stay. I raced the kids to the kitchen, and a minute or two later I heard Rene’s old pickup rattling down the driveway.
I picked up Lisa. “I can hardly lift you anymore, girl, you’re getting so big! And you, Coby, you shaving yet?” We sat at the table for a good
thirty minutes while the children ate ice cream and rattled off their list of achievements since we’d last visited.
Then Lisa wanted to read to me, so I got out a coloring book with the color and number words printed inside, and she read those to me with some pride. Coby, of course, had to prove he could read much better, and then they wanted to watch a favorite show. Before I knew it, it was dark.
“My friend is coming over tonight,” I told them. “His name is Bill.”
“Mama told us you had a special friend,” Coby said. “I better like him. He better be nice to you.”
“Oh, he is,” I assured the boy, who had straightened and thrust out his chest, ready to defend me if my special friend wasn’t nice enough in Coby’s estimation.
“Does he send you flowers?” Lisa asked romantically.
“No, not yet. Maybe you can kind of hint I’d like some?”
“Ooo. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Has he asked you to marry him?
“Well, no. But I haven’t asked him, either.”
Naturally, Bill picked that moment to knock.
“I have company,” I said, smiling, when I answered the door.
“I can hear,” he said.
I took his hand and led him into the kitchen.
“Bill, this is Coby and this young woman is Lisa,” I said formally.
“Good, I’ve been wanting to meet you,” Bill said, to my surprise. “Lisa and Coby, is it all right with you if I keep company with your aunt Sookie?”
They eyed him thoughtfully. “She isn’t really our aunt,” Coby said, testing the waters. “She’s our mom’s good friend.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, and she says you don’t send her flowers,” Lisa said. For once, her little voice was crystal clear. I was so glad to realize that Lisa had gotten over her little problem with her r’s. Really.
Bill looked sideways at me. I shrugged. “Well, they asked me,” I said helplessly.
“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to mend my ways, Lisa. Thank you for pointing that out to me. When is Aunt Sookie’s birthday, do you know?”
I could feel my face flushing. “Bill,” I said sharply. “Cut it out.”
“Do you know, Coby?” Bill asked the boy.
Coby shook his head, regretfully. “But I know it’s in the summer because the last time Mama took Sookie to lunch in Shreveport for her birthday, it was summertime. We stayed with Rene.”
“You’re smart to remember that, Coby,” Bill told him.
“I’m smarter than that! Guess what I learned in school the other day.” And Coby was off and running.
Lisa eyed Bill with great attention the whole time Coby spoke, and when Coby was finished, she said, “You look real white, Bill.”
“Yes,” he said, “that’s my normal complexion.”
The kids exchanged glances. I could tell they were deciding that “normal complexion” was an illness, and it wouldn’t be too polite to ask more questions. Every now and then children show a certain tactfulness.
Bill, initially a little stiff, began to get more and more flexible as the evening wore on. I was ready to admit I was tired by nine, but he was still going strong with the kids when Arlene and Rene came by to pick them up at eleven.
I’d just introduced my friends to Bill, who shook their hands in an absolutely normal way, when another caller arrived.
A handsome vampire with thick black hair combed into an improbable wavy style strolled up out of the woods as Arlene was bundling the kids into the truck, and Rene and Bill were chatting. Bill waved a casual hand at the vampire, and he raised one in return, joining Bill and Rene as if he’d been expected.
From the front porch swing, I watched Bill introduce the two, and the vampire and Rene shook hands. Rene was gaping at the newcomer, and I could tell he felt he’d recognized him. Bill looked meaningfully at Rene and shook his head, and Rene’s mouth closed on whatever comment he’d been going to make.
The newcomer was husky, taller than Bill, and he wore old jeans and an “I Visited Graceland” T-shirt. His heavy boots were worn at the heel. He carried a squirt bottle of synthetic blood in one hand and took a swig from time to time. Mr. Social Skills.
Maybe I’d been cued by Rene’s reaction, but the more I looked at the vampire, the more familiar he seemed. I tried mentally warming up the skin tone, adding a few lines, making him stand straighter and investing his face with some liveliness.
Oh my God.
It was the man from Memphis.
Rene turned to go, and Bill began steering the newcomer up to me. From ten feet away, the vampire called, “Hey, Bill tells me someone killed your cat!” He had a heavy Southern accent.
Bill closed his eyes for a second, and I just nodded speechlessly.
“Well, I’m sorry about that. I like cats,” the tall vampire said, and I clearly got the idea he didn’t mean he liked to stroke their fur. I hoped the kids weren’t picking up on that, but Arlene’s horrified face appeared in the truck window. All the good will Bill had established had probably just gone down the drain.
Rene shook his head behind the vampire’s back and climbed into the driver’s seat, calling a good-bye as he started up the engine. He stuck his head out the window for a long last look at the newcomer. He must have said something to Arlene because she appeared at her window again, staring for all she was worth. I saw her mouth drop open in shock as she looked harder at the creature standing beside Bill. Her head disappeared into the truck, and I heard a screech as the truck pulled away.
“Sookie,” Bill said warningly, “this is Bubba.”
“Bubba,” I repeated, not quite trusting my ears.
“Yep, Bubba,” the vampire said cheerfully, goodwill radiating from his fearsome smile. “That’s me. Pleased to meetcha.”
I shook hands with him, making myself smile back. Good God Almighty, I never thought I’d be shaking hands with him. But he’d sure changed for the worse.
“Bubba, would you mind waiting here on the porch? Let me explain our arrangement to Sookie.”
“That’s all right with me,” Bubba said casually. He settled on the swing, as happy and brainless as a clam.
We went into the living room, but not before I’d noticed that when Bubba had made his appearance, much of the night noise—bugs, frogs—had simply stopped. “I had hoped to explain this to you before Bubba got here,” Bill whispered. “But I couldn’t.”
I said, “Is that who I think it is?”
“Yes. So now you know at least some of the sighting stories are true. But don’t call him by his name. Call him Bubba! Something went wrong when he came over—from human to vampire—maybe it was all the chemicals in his blood.”
“But he was really dead, wasn’t he?”
“Not . . . quite. One of us was a morgue attendant and a big fan, and he could detect the tiny spark still left, so he brought him over, in a hurried manner.”
“Brought him over?”
“Made him vampire,” Bill explained. “But that was a mistake. He’s never been the same from what my friends tell me. He’s as smart as a tree trunk, so to make a living he does odd jobs for the rest of us. We can’t have him out in public, you can see that.”
I nodded, my mouth hanging open. Of course not. “Geez,” I murmured, stunned at the royalty in my yard.
“So remember how stupid he is, and how impulsive . . . don’t spend time alone with him, and don’t ever call him anything but Bubba. Also, he likes pets, as he told you, and a diet of their blood hasn’t made him any the more reliable. Now, as to why I brought him here . . .”
I stood with my arms across my chest, waiting for Bill’s explanation with some interest.
“Sweetheart, I have to go out of town for a while,” Bill said.
The unexpectedness of this completely disconcerted me.
“What . . . why? No, wait. I don’t need to know.” I waved my hands in front of me, shooing away any implication that Bill wa
s obligated to tell me his business.
“I’ll tell you when I get back,” he said firmly.
“So where does your friend—Bubba—come in?” Though I had a nasty feeling I already knew.
“Bubba is going to watch you while I’m gone,” Bill said stiffly.
I raised my eyebrows.
“All right. He’s not long on . . .” Bill cast around. “. . . anything,” he finally admitted. “But he’s strong, and he’ll do what I tell him, and he’ll make sure no one breaks into your house.”
“He’ll stay out in the woods?”
“Oh, yes,” Bill said emphatically. “He’s not even supposed to come up and speak to you. At dark, he’ll just find a place from which he can see the house, and he’ll watch all night.”
I’d have to remember to close my blinds. The idea of the dim vampire peering in my windows was not edifying.
“You really think this is necessary?” I asked helplessly. “You know, I don’t remember you asking me.”
Bill sort of heaved, his version of taking a deep breath. “Sweetheart,” he began in an overly patient voice, “I am trying very hard to get used to the way women want to be treated now. But it isn’t natural to me, especially when I fear you are in danger. I’m trying to give myself peace of mind while I’m gone. I wish I didn’t have to go, and it isn’t what I want to do, but what I have to do, for us.”
I eyed him. “I hear you,” I said finally. “I’m not crazy about this, but I am afraid at night, and I guess . . . well, okay.”
Frankly, I don’t think it mattered a damn whether I consented or not. After all, how could I make Bubba leave if he didn’t want to go? Even the law enforcement people in our little town didn’t have the equipment to deal with vampires, and if they were faced with this particular vampire, they’d just stand and gape for long enough for him to tear them apart. I appreciated Bill’s concern, and I figured I better have the good grace to thank him. I gave him a little hug.
“Well, if you have to go off, you just be careful while you’re gone,” I said, trying not to sound forlorn. “Do you have a place to stay?”
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