Dead as a Doornail

said smoothly, “while he works at Merlotte’s.”
    Presumably the sheriff had already heard about the new bartender, because he just nodded. I was relieved at not having to confess that Charles was supposed to be sleeping in my closet, and I blessed Bill for having lied about that. Our eyes met for a moment.
    “So you admit you killed this man?” Andy asked Charles. Charles nodded curtly.
    Andy beckoned to the woman in hospital scrubs who’d been waiting by her car—which made maybe five cars in my front yard, plus the fire truck. This new arrival glanced at me curiously as she walked past to the huddled form in the bushes. Pulling a stethoscope from a pocket, she knelt by the man and listened to various parts of his body. “Yep, dead as a doornail,” she called.
    Andy had gotten a Polaroid out of the police car to take pictures of the body. Since the only light was the flash of the camera and the flicker of flame from my burning house, I didn’t think the pictures would turn out too well. I was numb with shock, and I watched Andy as if this were an important activity.
    “What a pity. It would have been a good thing to find out why he torched Sookie’s house,” Bill said as he watched Andy work. His voice rivaled a refrigerator for coldness.
    “In my fear for Sookie’s safety, I suppose I struck too hard.” Charles tried to look regretful.
    “Since his neck seems to be broken, I suppose you did,” said the doctor, studying Charles’s white face with the samecareful attention she’d given mine. The doctor was in her thirties, I thought; a woman slim to the point of skinny, with very short red hair. She was about five foot three, and she had elfin features, or at least the kind I’d always thought of as elfin: a short, turned-up nose, wide eyes, large mouth. Her words were both dry and bold, and she didn’t seem at all disconcerted by or excited at being called out in the middle of the night for something like this. She must be the parish coroner, so I must have voted for her, but I couldn’t recall her name.
    “Who are you?” Claudine asked in her sweetest voice.
    The doctor blinked at the vision of Claudine. Claudine, at this ungodly hour of the morning, was in full makeup and a fuchsia knit top with black knit leggings. Her shoes were fuchsia and black striped, and her jacket was, too. Claudine’s black rippling hair was held off her face with fuchsia combs.
    “I’m Dr. Tonnesen. Linda. Who are you?”
    “Claudine Crane,” the fairy said. I’d never known the last name Claudine used.
    “And why were you here on the spot, Ms. Crane?” Andy Bellefleur asked.
    “I’m Sookie’s fairy godmother,” Claudine said, laughing. Though the scene was grim, everyone else laughed, too. It was like we just couldn’t stop being cheerful around Claudine. But I wondered very much about Claudine’s explanation.
    “No, really,” Bud Dearborn said. “Why are you here, Ms. Crane?”
    Claudine smiled impishly. “I was spending the night with Sookie,” she said, winking.
    In a second, we were the objects of fascinated scrutiny from every male within hearing, and I had to lock down my head as if it were a maximum-security prison to block the mental images the guys were broadcasting.
    Andy shook himself, closed his mouth, and squatted bythe dead man. “Bud, I’m going to roll him,” he said a little hoarsely, and turned the corpse so he could feel inside the dead man’s pockets. The man’s wallet proved to be in his jacket, which seemed a little unusual to me. Andy straightened and stepped away from the body to examine the billfold’s contents.
    “You want to have a look, see if you recognize him?” Sheriff Dearborn asked me. Of course I didn’t, but I also saw that I really didn’t have a choice. Nervously, I inched a little closer and looked again at the face of the dead man. He still looked ordinary. He still looked dead. He might be in his thirties. “I don’t know him,” I said, my voice small in the din of the firefighters and the water pouring onto the house.
    “What?” Bud Dearborn was having trouble hearing me. His round brown eyes were locked onto my face.
    “Don’t know him!” I said, almost yelling. “I’ve never seen him, that I remember. Claudine?”
    I don’t know why I asked Claudine.
    “Oh, yes, I’ve seen him,” she said cheerfully.
    That attracted the undivided attention of the two vampires, the two lawmen, the doctor, and me.
    “Where?”
    Claudine threw