Dead as a Doornail

remember it,” I concluded with a modest smile.
    Eric looked like I’d hit him in the forehead with a mallet. For all of thirty seconds his reaction was completely gratifying. Then I began to be uneasy.
    “Is there anything else I should know?” he said in a voice so level and even that it was simply scary.
    “Um, yes.”
    “Then perhaps you’ll enlighten me.”
    “You offered to give up your position as sheriff and come to live with me. And get a job.”
    Okay, maybe this wasn’t going so well. Eric couldn’t get any whiter or stiller. “Ah,” he said. “Anything else?”
    “Yes.” I ducked my head because I’d gotten to the absolutely un-fun part. “When we came home that last night, the night we’d had the battle with the witches in Shreveport, we came in the back door, right, like I always do. And Debbie Pelt—you remember her. Alcide’s—oh, whatever she was to him . . . Debbie was sitting at my kitchen table. And she had a gun and was gonna shoot me.” I risked a glance and found Eric’s brows had drawn in together in an ominous frown. “But you threw yourself in front of me.” I leaned forward very quickly and patted him on the knee. Then I retreated into my own space. “And you took the bullet, which was really, really sweet of you. But she was going to shoot again, and I pulled out my brother’s shotgun, and Ikilled her.” I hadn’t cried at all that night, but I felt a tear run down my cheek now. “I killed her,” I said, and gasped for breath.
    Eric’s mouth opened as though he was going to ask a question, but I held up a hand in a wait gesture. I had to finish. “We gathered up the body and bagged it, and you took it and buried her somewhere while I cleaned the kitchen. And you found her car and you hid it. I don’t know where. It took me hours to get the blood out of the kitchen. It was on everything.” I grabbed desperately at my self-possession. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my wrist. My shoulder ached, and I shifted in the chair, trying to ease it.
    “And now someone else has shot at you and I wasn’t there to take the bullet,” Eric said. “You must be living wrong. Do you think the Pelt family is trying to get revenge?”
    “No,” I said. I was pleased that Eric was taking all this so calmly. I don’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t this. He seemed, if anything, subdued. “They hired private detectives, and as far as I know, the private detectives didn’t find any reason to suspect me any more than anyone else. The only reason I was a suspect anyway was because when Alcide and I found that body in Shreveport at Verena Rose’s, we told the police we were engaged. We had to explain why we went together to a bridal shop. Since he had such an on-and-off relationship with Debbie, him saying we were getting married naturally raised a red flag when the detectives checked it out. He had a good alibi for the time she died, as it turned out. But if they ever seriously suspect me, I’ll be in trouble. I can’t give you as an alibi, because of course you weren’t even here, as far as anyone knows. You can’t give me an alibi because you don’t remember that night; and of course, I’m just plain old guilty. I killed her. I had to do it.” I’m sure Cain had said that when he’d killed Abel.
    “You’re talking too much,” Eric said.
    I pressed my lips together. One minute he wanted me to tell him everything; the next minute he wanted me to stop talking.
    For maybe five minutes, Eric just looked at me. I wasn’t always sure he was seeing me. He was lost in some deep thoughts.
    “I told you I would leave everything for you?” he said at the end of all this rumination.
    I snorted. Trust Eric to select that as the pertinent idea.
    “And how did you respond?”
    Okay, that astonished me. “You couldn’t just stay with me, not remembering. That wouldn’t be right.”
    He narrowed his eyes. I got tired of being regarded through slits of blue. “So,” I said, curiously deflated. Maybe I’d expected a more emotional scene than this. Maybe I’d expected Eric to grab me and kiss me silly and tell me he still felt the same. Maybe I was too fond of daydreams. “I did your favor. Now you do mine.”
    Not taking his eyes off me, Eric whipped a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number from memory. “Rose-Anne,” he said. “Are you well? Yes, please, if she’s free. Tell her I have information that will interest her.” I couldn’t