Dead Ever After: A True Blood Novel

news of your pregnancy confined to this group, just for the moment. Please don’t make it the subject of any telephone calls or text messages to your nearest and dearest, though I know you’re excited.” He smiled at her in a way clearly meant to be reassuring.
    Amelia was startled and concerned, expressions that sat oddly on someone as fresh and bright-eyed as she was. Bob dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew what Mr. Cataliades was saying, while Amelia did not.
    “For how long?” she said.
    “For only a day or two. Surely the news will wait that long?” He smiled again.
    “All right,” she agreed, after a glance at Bob, who nodded.
    “Now to talk about the murder of Arlene Fowler,” Mr. Cataliades said, as heartily as if he’d just announced that earnings for the last quarter were way up.
    Clearly, the lawyer knew a lot of things I didn’t know and was choosing not to share those items, which bothered me. But after he said the word “murder,” he had my complete attention.
    “Please tell us everything you know about the late Arlene, and tell us how you came to see her again after her release from prison,” Mr. Cataliades said.
    So I began talking.

Chapter 12
    It took a surprisingly long time to relate everything I knew about Arlene and her activities, including my concerns about Alcee Beck. Bob, Amelia, Barry, Diantha, and Mr. Cataliades offered a lot of opinions and ideas, and asked a lot of questions.
    Amelia focused on the two men Arlene had mentioned, presumably the same two men Jane had witnessed her meeting behind Tray Dawson’s empty house. Amelia proposed to lay a truth spell on them to find out what Arlene had handed them. She was a little hazy about how she intended to track them down, but she told us that she had a few ideas. She made an effort to sound nonchalant, but she was quivering with eagerness.
    Bob wanted to call a touch psychic he knew in New Orleans, and he wondered if we could persuade the police to let the psychic hold the scarf to get a reading. I said that was a definite no.
    Barry thought we should talk to Arlene’s kids and Brock and Chessie Johnson, to see if Arlene had said anything about her plans to them.
    Diantha thought we should steal the scarf, and then they’d have no evidence on me at all. I have to admit, that option really resonated with me. I knew I hadn’t done it. I knew the police weren’t looking in the right direction. And, frankly, even more than I wanted Arlene’s murderer to be found, I knew I didn’t want to go to jail. At all. Ever again.
    Diantha also wanted to search Alcee Beck’s car. “I’ll know a magic object when I see it,” she said, and that was a truth no one could argue. The problem was, a skinny, strangely dressed white girl was going to look a little conspicuous searching anyone’s car, much less the car of an African-American police detective.
    Desmond Cataliades told us that in his opinion, the case against me was weak, especially since I had a witness who could place me in bed at my home at the probable time of the murder. “It’s a pity your witness is a vampire—not only a vampire, but one new to the area and bound to your ex-lover,” he said in his ponderous way. “However, Karin is certainly better than no witness at all. I must talk to her soon.”
    “She’ll be out in the woods tonight,” I said, “if she follows her pattern.”
    “You truly believe that Detective Beck was spelled with something?”
    “I do,” I said. “Though I didn’t understand what I was seeing at the time. I tried to get Andy Bellefleur to tell Alcee to search his car. I hoped Alcee would find the hex, or whatever you call it, and understand that he’d been supernaturally influenced against me. Obviously, that’s not going to work. So if we can think of a way to get the magic object out of Alcee’s vehicle, we need to move on that plan. When it’s removed, I hope things will get a lot better for me.” And God knew, I wanted things to get better. I glanced at the clock. It was one p.m.
    “Amelia, we have some things we need to talk about,” Mr. Cataliades said, and Amelia looked apprehensive. “But first, let’s go into town and get lunch. Even passive deliberations call for energy.”
    We packed into Mr. Cataliades’s rental van for the short drive into town. As we were seated at Lucky Bar-B-Q, we garnered more attention than I wanted. Of course, people recognized me, and there were a few glances and a few