"Yes," Sam said. Again, Andy looked surprised, and not happy.
"All right, who? Your little girlfriend from Shreveport? She come back from Alaska?"
Sam said steadily, "My mom was here. She left early this morning to get back to Texas, but you can sure call her. I can give you her phone number."
Andy copied it down in his notebook.
"I guess the bar has to be closed today," Sam said. "But I'd appreciate being able to open as soon as I can, Andy. These days, I need all the business I can get."
"You should be able to open at three this afternoon," Andy said.
Sam and I exchanged glances. That was good news, but I knew the bad news was not over, and I tried to convey that to Sam with my eyes. Andy was about to try to shock us with something. I wasn't sure what it was, but I could tell he was baiting his trap.
Andy turned away with an air of unconcern. Abruptly, he turned back to us with the sudden pounce of someone springing an ambush. Since I could read his mind, I knew what was coming. I kept my face blank only because I've had years of practice.
"You recognize this, Sookie?" he asked, showing me a picture. It was a gruesome close-up of Arlene's neck. There was something tied around it. It was a scarf, a green and peacock blue scarf.
I felt remarkably sick.
"That looks kind of like a scarf I used to have," I said. In fact, it was exactly like a scarf I'd gotten by default: the one the werebat Luna had tied around my eyes in Dallas when the shifters had been rescuing me.
That seemed like a decade ago.
Feverishly, I tried to remember what had happened to the scarf. I'd gone back to my hotel with it. After that, I'd left it in my belongings in a Dallas hotel room and returned to Shreveport on my own. Bill had deposited my little suitcase on my porch when he'd returned, and the scarf had been tucked inside. I'd hand-washed it, and it had come out real pretty. Also, it was a memento of an extraordinary night. So I'd kept it. I'd worn it tucked into my coat in winter, tied it around my ponytail the last time I wore my green sundress . . . but that had been a year ago. I was sure I hadn't used it this summer. Since I'd just cleaned out my bedroom drawers, I'd have seen it when I was refolding my scarves, but I had no specific memory of that, which didn't mean a thing. "I sure don't remember the last time I saw it," I said, shaking my head.
"Hmmm," said Andy. He didn't like to think I'd strangled Arlene, and he didn't believe I could have gotten her in the Dumpster by myself. But, he thought, don't people who drink vampire blood get real strong, for a while? This was one reason vamp blood was the hottest illegal drug around.
I started to tell him out loud that I hadn't had any vampire blood in a long time. But luckily, I thought twice.
There was no point in reminding Andy that I could read his thoughts. And there was no point in telling him that I had been very strong from vamp blood . . . but in the past.
I sagged against the wall of the trailer. If Sam's mother could provide Sam an alibi, and if Andy believed Bernie . . . that would leave me as prime suspect. Karin would back up my story, I was certain, but in the eyes of the local law, her testimony would be almost worthless. Andy would be less likely to believe Karin simply because she was a vampire. Other officers who were familiar with the vampire world would believe Karin would have helped me dump Arlene's body if I'd asked her, because she was Eric's child and Eric was my boyfriend, as far as everyone knew.
Hell, I was pretty sure Karin would have killed Arlene for me, if I'd asked. It might take Andy and Alcee a while to figure that out, but they would.
"Andy," I said, "I couldn't get Arlene in that Dumpster if I tried for a month, not without a hoist. You want to test me for vampire blood, you go right ahead. You won't find any in my system. If I'd choked Arlene to death, I hope I wouldn't leave my scarf around her neck. You may not think much of me, but I'm not dumb."
Andy said, "Sookie, I never have known what to think of you." And he walked away.
"That could have gone better," Sam said, in a huge understatement. "I remember you wearing that scarf last winter. You wore it to church, tied around your ponytail, with a black dress."
Well. You never know what men will remember. I started to feel a little touched and tender. Sam said, "You were sitting right in front of me, and I was looking at the back of your head the whole service."
I nodded. That was more like it. "I wish I knew what had happened to it since then. I'd like to know who got it out of my house and used it on Arlene. I know I wore it to the bar once. I don't know if it got lifted out of my purse or stolen from my drawer in my bedroom. That's gross and sneaky." At that moment I remembered my drawer being ajar. I wrinkled my nose, thinking of someone pawing through my scarves and panties. And one or two things had seemed to be out of place. I told Sam about the little incident. "It doesn't sound like much when I say it out loud, though," I concluded ruefully.
He smiled, just a little upturn of his lips, but I was glad to see it. His hair was wilder than usual, which was saying something. The sun caught the reddish bristles on his chin. "You need to shave," I said.
"Yeah," he agreed, but absently. "We'll check it out. I was wondering . . . Andy knows you can read minds. But it seems like he can't keep that in his head when he's talking to you. Does that happen a lot?"
"He knows, but he doesn't know. He's not the only one who acts that way. The people who do get that I'm different - not just a little crazy - they still don't seem to get it completely. Andy's a true believer. He really understands that I can see what's in his head. But he just can't adapt to that."
"You can't hear me that way," Sam said, just to reaffirm what he already knew.
"General mood and intent, I pick up. But not specific thoughts. That's always the way with supernaturals."
"Like?"
It took me a minute to interpret that. "Like, right now I can tell you're worried, you're glad I'm here, you're wishing we'd cut the scarf off her neck before the police got here. It's easy to get that, because I'm wishing the same damn thing."
Sam grimaced. "That's what I get for being squeamish. I knew there was something around her throat, but I didn't want to look any closer. And I definitely didn't want to touch her again."
"Who would?" We fell silent. We sweated. We watched. Since we were sitting on Sam's own steps, looking over his own hedge, they could hardly tell us to go away. After a while, I got so bored that I called or texted the people due to work today to tell them to come in at three. I thought of all the lawyers I knew, and debated which one to call if I had to. Beth Osiecki had prepared my will, and I'd liked her real well. Her partner, Jarrell Hilburn, had prepared the document that formalized my loan to Sam to keep the business afloat, and he'd also prepared the paperwork giving me part interest in the bar.