Dead Reckoning ss(v-11

by Шарлин Харрис

  Suddenly I was as close to tears as I could be. I held my eyes wide so the liquid wouldn’t trickle, and I left the living room very quickly. It wasn’t possible to open that envelope with other people in the house, so I stowed it in my bedside table along with the little bag, and I returned to the living room after I’d blotted my eyes.

  The two antiques dealers were too courteous to ask questions, and I brewed some coffee and brought it to them on a tray with some milk and sugar and some slices of pound cake, because I was grateful. And polite. As my grandmother had taught me . . . my dead grandmother, whose handwriting had been on the letter inside the pattern envelope.

  Chapter 5

  In the end, I didn’t get to open the envelope until the next day.

  Brenda and Donald finished going over all the attic contents an hour after he’d opened the hidden drawer. Then we sat down to discuss what they wanted from my miscellaneous clutter and how much they’d pay me for it. At first, I was minded to simply say, “Okay,” but in the name of my family I felt obliged to try to get as much money as possible. To my impatience, the discussion went on for what seemed like forever.

  What it boiled down to: They wanted four large pieces of furniture (including the desk), a couple of dress forms, a small chest, some spoons, and two horn snuffboxes. Some of the underwear was in good shape, and Brenda said she knew a method of washing that would remove stains and make the garments look almost new, though she wouldn’t give me much for them. A nursing chair (too low and small for modern women) was added to the list, and Donald wanted a box of costume jewelry from the thirties and forties. My great-grandmother’s quilt, made in the wagon wheel pattern, was obviously worth a lot to the dealers, and that had never been my favorite pattern so I was glad to let it go.

  I was actually pleased that these items would be going to homes where they’d be enjoyed and cared for and cherished instead of being stowed in an attic.

  I could tell that Donald really wanted to go through the big box of pictures and papers still awaiting my attention, but there was no way that was going to happen until I’d looked at all of them. I told him so in very polite terms, and we also shook on the agreement that if any more secret compartments of any kind were found in the furniture I was selling them, I would have first right to buy the contents back if the contents had any money value.

  After they’d called their store to arrange pickup and written a check, the dealers departed with one or two of their smaller purchases. They seemed as satisfied as I was with the day’s work.

  Within an hour, a big Splendide truck came up the driveway with two husky young men in the cab. Forty-five minutes after that, the furniture was padded and loaded into the back. After it was gone, it was time for me to get ready for work. I regretfully postponed examining the items in my night table drawer.

  Though I had to hustle, I took a moment to enjoy having my house to myself as I put on my makeup and my uniform. It was warm enough to break out my shorts, I decided.

  I’d gone to Wal-Mart and bought two new pair the week before. In honor of their debut, I’d made sure my legs were shaved extra smooth. My tan was already well established. I looked in the mirror, pleased with the look.

  I got to Merlotte’s about five. The first person I saw was the new waitress, India. India had smooth chocolate skin and cornrows and a stud in her nose, and she was the most cheerful human being I’d encountered in a month of Sundays. Today she gave me a smile as if I were exactly the person she’d been waiting to see . . . which was literally true. I was replacing India.

  “You look out for trouble with that goober on five,” she said. “He’s tossing ’em back. He must’ve had a fight with his wife.”

  I would know if he had or not after a moment’s “listening in.” “Thanks, India. Anything else?”

  “That couple on eleven, they want their tea unsweet with lots of lemon on the side. Their food should be up soon, the fried pickles and a burger each. Cheese on his.”

  “Okeydokey. Have a good evening.”

  “I’m planning on it. I got a date.”

  “Who with?” I asked, out of sheer idle curiosity.

  “Lola Rushton,” she said.

  “I think I went to high school with Lola,” I said, with only a short beat to indicate that India’s dating women was any more than a daily occurrence.

  “She remembers you,” India said, and laughed.

  I was sure that was so, since I’d been the weirdest person in my little high school class. “Everyone remembers me as Crazy Sookie,” I said, trying to keep the rue from my voice.

  “She had a crush on you for a while,” India told me.

  I felt oddly pleased. “I’m flattered to hear it,” I said, and hustled off to start working.

  I made a quick round of my tables to be sure everyone was okay, served the fried pickles and burgers, and watched in relief as Mr. Grumpy and Dumped downed his last drink and left the bar. He wasn’t drunk, but he was spoiling for a fight, and it was good to see the last of him. We didn’t need more trouble.

  He wasn’t the only grumpy guy in Merlotte’s. Sam was filling out insurance forms that night, and because he hates filling out forms but has to do it all the time, his mood was not sunny. The paperwork was stacked on the bar, and in a lull between customers, I looked it over. If I read it carefully and slowly, it wasn’t hard to figure out, no matter how convoluted the English got. I began checking boxes and filling in blanks, and I called the police station and told them we needed a copy of the police report on the firebombing. I gave them Sam’s fax number, and Kevin promised he’d get it to me.

  I looked up to find my boss standing there with an expression of total surprise on his face.

  “I’m sorry!” I said instantly. “You seemed to be so stressed out about it, and I didn’t mind taking a look. I’ll hand ’em back over.” I grabbed up the papers and thrust them at Sam.

  “No,” he said, backing away with his hands held up. “No, no. Sook, thanks. I never thought of asking for help.” He glanced down. “You called the police station?”

  “Yeah, I got Kevin Pryor. He’s gonna send over the report to attach.”

  “Thanks, Sook.” Sam looked like Santa Claus had just appeared in the bar.

  “I don’t mind forms,” I said, smiling. “They don’t talk back. You better look it over to make sure I did it right.”

  Sam beamed at me without sparing a downward glance. “Good job, friend.”

  “No problem.” It had been nice to have something to keep me busy, so I wouldn’t think about the unexamined items in my night table drawer. I heard the front door open and looked around, relieved there was more business walking in the door. I had to work to hold the anticipation on my face when I saw that Jannalynn Hopper had arrived.

  Sam is what you might call adventuresome in his dating, and Jannalynn was not the first strong (not to say scary) female he’d consorted with. Skinny and short, Jannalynn had an aggressive sense of fashion and a ferocious delight in her elevation to the job of pack enforcer for the Long Tooth pack, which was based in Shreveport.

  Tonight Jannalynn was wearing abbreviated denim shorts, those sandals that lace up the calves, and a single blue tank top with no bra underneath. She was wearing the earrings Sam had bought her at Splendide, and about six silver chains of assorted lengths and pendants gleamed around her neck. Her short hair was platinum now, spiky and bright. She was like a suncatcher, I thought, remembering the brightly colored one Jason had given me to hang in the kitchen window.

  “Hello, honey,” she said to Sam as she bypassed me without a sideways glance. She took Sam in a ferocious embrace and kissed him for all she was worth.

  He kissed her back, though I could tell from his brain signals that he was a little embarrassed. No such consideration bothered Jannalynn, of course. I hastily turned away to check the levels of salt and pepper in the shakers on the tables, though I knew quite well everything was fine.

  In truth, I’d alway
s found Jannalynn disturbing, almost frightening. She was very aware that Sam and I were friends, especially since I’d met Sam’s family at his brother’s wedding, and they were under the impression that I was Sam’s girlfriend. I really didn’t blame her for her suspicions; if I’d been her, I’d have felt the same way.

  Jannalynn was a suspicious young woman by both nature and profession. Part of her job was to assess threats and act on them before harm could come to Alcide and the pack. She also managed Hair of the Dog, a little bar that catered especially to the Long Tooth pack and other twoeys in the Shreveport area. It was a lot of responsibility for someone as young as Jannalynn, but she seemed born to meet the challenge.

  By the time I’d exhausted all the busywork I could think of, Jannalynn and Sam were having a quiet conversation. She was perched on a barstool, her muscular legs crossed elegantly, and he was in his usual position behind the bar. Her face was intent, and so was his; whatever their topic was, it was a serious one. I kept my mind slammed shut.

  The customers were doing their best not to gape at the young Were. The other waitress, Danielle, was glancing over at her from time to time while whispering with her boyfriend, who’d come in to nurse a drink all evening so he could watch Danielle as she moved from table to table.

  Whatever Jannalynn’s faults, you couldn’t deny that she had real presence. When she was in a room, she had to be acknowledged. (I thought that was at least partially because she gave off such strong vibes that she was scary as hell.)

  A couple came in and glanced around before heading to an empty table in my section. They looked a little familiar. After a moment, I recognized them: Jack and Lily Leeds, private detectives from somewhere in Arkansas. The last time I’d seen them, they’d come to Bon Temps to investigate Debbie Pelt’s disappearance, having been hired by her parents. I’d answered their questions in what I now knew was sort of fairy-style — I’d stuck to the letter of the truth without its spirit. I myself had shot Debbie Pelt dead in self-defense, and I hadn’t wanted to go to jail for it.

  That had been over a year ago. Lily Bard Leeds was still pale, silent, and intense, and her husband was still attractive and vital. Her eyes had found me instantly, and it was impossible to pretend I hadn’t noticed. Reluctantly, I went over to their table, feeling my smile growing more brittle with every step.

  “Welcome back to Merlotte’s,” I said, grinning for all I was worth. “What can I get you two this evening? We put French-fried pickles on the menu, and our burgers Lafayette are real good.”

  Lily looked as if I’d suggested she eat breaded worms, though Jack looked a bit regretful. He wouldn’t have minded the pickles, I could tell.

  “A hamburger Lafayette for me, I guess,” Lily said unenthusiastically. As she turned to her companion, her T-shirt shifted and I caught a glimpse of a set of old scars that rivaled my own new ones.

  Well, we had always had things in common.

  “The hamburger for me, too,” Jack said. “And if you have a moment to spare, we’d like to talk to you.” He smiled at me, and the long, thin scar on his face flexed as his eyebrows rose. Was this personal-mutilation evening? I wondered if his light jacket, unnecessary on so warm a day, covered something even worse.

  “We can have a talk. I figured you didn’t come back to Merlotte’s because of the great cuisine,” I said, and took their drink order before I went over to the window to hand the slip to Antoine.

  With their iced teas and a dish of lemon, I returned to the table. I looked around to make sure no one needed me before I sat down opposite Jack with Lily to my left. She was pretty to look at, but so controlled and muscular I felt like I could bounce a dime off her. Even her mind was sort of tidy and strict.

  “What shall we talk about?” I asked, and opened up my mind to them. Jack was thinking about Lily, some concern about her health, no, her mother’s health — a recurrence of breast cancer. Lily was thinking about me, puzzling over me, suspecting I was a killer.

  That hurt.

  But it was true.

  “Sandra Pelt is out of jail,” Jack Leeds said, and though I heard the words in his brain before he spoke them, I didn’t have to fake a shocked face.

  “She was in jail? So that’s why I haven’t seen her since her folks died.” The older Pelts had promised to keep Sandra in check. After I’d heard about their deaths, I’d wondered when she’d show up. When I hadn’t seen her right away, I’d relaxed. “You’re telling me this because?” I managed to say.

  “Because she hates your guts,” Lily said calmly. “And you were never found guilty by any court of the disappearance of her sister. You weren’t even arrested. I don’t think you ever will be. You might even be innocent, though I don’t think so. Sandra Pelt is simply crazy. And she’s obsessed with you. I think you need to be careful. Real careful.”

  “Why was she in jail?”

  “Assault and battery on one of her cousins. This cousin had gotten a cut of the money in Sandra’s parents’ will, and apparently Sandra took issue with that.”

  I was very, very worried. Sandra Pelt was a vicious and amoral young woman. I was sure she hadn’t hit twenty yet, and she’d made a determined attempt to kill me more than once. There was no one now to call her to heel, and her mental status was therefore even more suspect, according to the private detectives.

  “But why did you make a trip down here to tell me?” I said. “I mean, I do appreciate it, but you weren’t obliged . . . and you could have picked up the phone. Private eyes work for money, last I heard. Is someone paying you to warn me?”

  “The Pelt estate,” Lily said, after a pause. “Their lawyer, who lives in New Orleans, is the court-appointed guardian for Sandra until she reaches twenty-one.”

  “His name?”

  She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “It’s a sort of Baltic name,” she said. “And I may not pronounce it correctly.”

  “Cataliades,” I said, putting the emphasis on the second syllable where it belonged.

  “Yes,” said Jack, surprised. “That’s him. Big guy.”

  I nodded. Mr. Cataliades and I were friendly. He was mostly a demon, but the Leedses didn’t seem to know that. In fact, they didn’t seem to know much of anything about the other world, the one that lay beneath the human one. “So Mr. Cataliades sent you two down here to warn me? He’s the executor?”

  “Yeah. He was going to be away from his desk for some time, and he wanted to be sure you knew the girl was on the loose. He seemed to feel some obligation to you.”

  I pondered that. I only knew of one time I’d done the lawyer a good turn. I had helped him get out of the collapsing hotel in Rhodes. Nice to know that at least one person was serious when he said, “I owe you.” It seemed pretty ironic that the Pelt estate was paying the Leedses to come warn me against the last living Pelt; not ironic as in “ha!” but ironic as in bitter.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how come he contacted you two? I mean, I’m sure there are lots of private eyes in New Orleans, for example. You all are still based in the Little Rock area, right?”

  Lily shrugged. “He called us; he asked if we were free; he sent the check. His instructions were very specific. Both of us, to the bar, today. In fact . . .” She glanced down at her watch. “To the minute.”

  They looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to explain this oddity on the part of the lawyer.

  I was thinking furiously. If Mr. Cataliades had sent two tough people to the bar, instructing them to arrive at a given time, it must be because he knew they were going to be needed. For some reason, their presence was necessary and desirable. When would you need capable hardbodies?

  When trouble was on its way.

  Before I knew I was going to do it, I stood and turned toward the entrance. Naturally, the Leedses looked where I was looking, so we were all watching the door when trouble opened it.

  Four tough guys came in. My grandmother would have said they were loaded for bear. They might as well h
ave stenciled “Badass and Proud of It” on their foreheads. They were definitely high on something, full of themselves, brimming with aggression. And armed.

  After a second’s peek in their heads, I knew they’d taken vampire blood. That was the most unpredictable drug on the market — also the most expensive, because harvesting it was so dangerous. People who drank vampire blood were — for a length of time impossible to predict — incredibly strong and incredibly reckless . . . and sometimes batshit crazy.

  Though her back was to the newcomers, Jannalynn seemed to smell them. She swung around on her stool and focused, just like someone had drawn a bow and aimed the arrow. I could feel the animal wafting off her. Something wild and savage filled the air, and I realized the smell was coming from Sam, too. Jack and Lily Leeds were on their feet. Jack had his hand under his jacket, and I knew he had a gun. Lily’s hands were poised in a strange way, as if she were about to gesture and had frozen in midmove.

  “Hidee-ho, jerkoffs!” said the tallest one, addressing the bar in general. He had a heavy beard and thick dark hair, but underneath it I saw how young he was. I thought he couldn’t be more than nineteen. “We come to have some fun with you lizards.”

  “No lizards here,” Sam said, his voice even and calm. “You fellas are welcome to have a drink, but after that I think you better leave. This is a quiet place, a local place, and we don’t need trouble.”

  “Trouble’s already here!” boasted the shortest asshole. His face was clean-shaven, and his hair was only blond stubble, showing scars on his scalp. He was built broad and chunky. The third kid was thin and dark, maybe Hispanic. His black hair was slicked back, and his lips had a sensuous pout to them that he tried to counteract by sneering. The fourth guy had gotten off on the vampire blood even more seriously than the rest, and he couldn’t speak because he was lost in his own world. His eyes jerked from side to side as if he were tracking things the rest of us couldn’t see. He was big, too. I thought the first attack would come from him, and though I was the least of the combatants, I began to ease to my right, planning to come at him from the side.