Club Dead

ever since Mr. Eric told me to.” He was standing straighter, his head full of carefully combed hair gelled into the familiar style. The guys at Russell’s mansion had really worked hard on him.
    “So you were out there the night we came back from the club? The first night?”
    “You bet, Miss Sookie.”
    “Did you see anyone else outside the apartment?”
    “I sure did.” He looked proud.
    Oh, boy. “Was this a guy in gang leathers?”
    He looked surprised. “Yes’m, it was that guy hurt you in the bar. I seen him when the doorman threw him out back. Some of his buddies came around back there, and they were talking about what had happened. So I knew he’d offended you. Mr. Eric said not to come up to you or him in public, so I didn’t. But I followed you back to the apartment, in that truck. Bet you didn’t even know I was in the back.”
    “No, I sure didn’t know you were in the back of the pickup. That was real smart. Now tell me, when you saw the Were later, what was he doing?”
    “He had picked the lock on the apartment door by the time I snuck up behind him. I just barely caught that sucker in time.”
    “What did you do with him?” I smiled at Bubba.
    “I broke his neck and stuffed him in the closet,” Bubba said proudly. “I didn’t have time to take the body anywhere, and I figured you and Mr. Eric could figure out what to do about it.”
    I had to look away. So simple. So direct. Solving that mystery had just taken asking the right person the right question.
    Why hadn’t we thought of it? You couldn’t give Bubba orders and expect him to adapt them to circumstances. Quite possibly, he had saved my life by killing Jerry Falcon, since my bedroom was the first one the Were would have come to. I had been so tired when I finally got to bed, I might not have woken until it was too late.
    Pam had been looking back and forth between us with a question on her face. I held up a hand to indicate I’d explain later, and I made myself smile at Bubba and tell him he’d done the right thing. “Eric will be so pleased,” I said. And telling Alcide would be an interesting experience.
    Bubba’s whole face relaxed. He smiled, that upper lip curling just a little. “I’m glad to hear you say so,” he said. “You got any blood? I’m mighty thirsty.”
    “Sure,” I said. Pam was thoughtful enough to fetch the blood, and Bubba took a big swig.
    “Not as good as a cat’s,” he observed. “But mighty fine just the same. Thank you, thank you very much.”

Chapter Fifteen
    W HAT A COZY evening it was turning out to be—yours truly and four vampires, after Bill and Eric arrived separately but almost simultaneously. Just me and my buds, hanging at the house.
    Bill insisted on braiding my hair for me, just so he could show his familiarity with my house and habits by going in the bathroom and getting my box of hair doodads. Then he put me on the ottoman in front of him as he sat behind me to brush and fix my hair. I have always found this a very soothing process, and it aroused memories of another evening Bill and I had begun just about the same way, with a fabulous finale. Of course, Bill was well aware he was pushing those memories to the fore.
    Eric observed this with the air of one taking notes, and Pam sneered openly. I could not for the life of me understand why they all had to be here at the same time, and why they all didn’t get sick of one another—and me—and go away. After a few minutes of having a comparative crowd in my house, I longed to be alone once more. Why had I thought I was lonely?
    Bubba left fairly quickly, anxious to do some hunting. I didn’t want to think too closely about that. When he’d left, I was able to tell the other vampires about what had really happened to Jerry Falcon.
    Eric didn’t seem too upset that his directions to Bubba had caused the death of Jerry Falcon, and I’d already admitted to myself that I couldn’t be too wrought up about it, either. If it came down to him, or me, well, I liked me better. Bill was indifferent to Jerry’s fate, and Pam thought the whole thing was funny.
    “That he followed you to Jackson, when his instructions were just for here, for one night . . . that he kept following his instructions, no matter what! It’s not very vampiric, but he’s certainly a good soldier.”
    “It would have been much better if he’d told Sookie what he’d done and why he’d done it,” Eric observed.
    “Yes, a note would have been