Dead Ever After: A True Blood Novel

my dad was, I’d kill him myself.” She meant it.
    “I understand,” I said.
    And then she left, after giving me a light kiss on my forehead.
    I was sure Bill had left me a flowery get-well note, but as I read the fine script, I realized it was anything but.
    Sookie, I hope you are recovering. About the incident of two nights ago: I have just received a very reluctant apology from my king. He told me that he regretted that Horst had come into my home territory and caused me so much inconvenience by attacking my friend and neighbor.
    Apparently, Horst thought it would please Felipe if he came to threaten you with something gruesome, thereby ensuring you didn’t interfere in the arrangements Felipe had made with Freyda. Felipe asked me to apologize to you, too. He will allow Eric’s measures to remain in place if Eric leaves for Oklahoma tonight. I have some interesting news to tell you, and I will see you as soon as I can.
    I wasn’t totally sure I understood Bill’s note, but if he was coming to see me, I’d have to possess my soul in patience. Dr. Tonnesen released me, with a long list of restrictions and instructions, and I called Jason. On his lunch hour, he showed up to wheel me out of the hospital. He’d come to the hospital the night before to fill out my admission papers and to give them what insurance information I had, and he’d been out to the house after the police had finished with processing the shooting scene. I was sure giving Kevin and Kenya a workout for their newfound skills.
    “Michele put a casserole in your refrigerator for tonight. I hope you don’t mind, Sook, but Michele and An are out there scrubbing everything down,” he said in a subdued way.
    “Oh, that’s wonderful,” I said, with heartfelt relief. “God bless ’em. I owe them big-time.”
    He tried to smile. “Yeah, you do. Michele said she hasn’t cleaned up so much blood since her cat brought in a rabbit that wasn’t quite dead, and it got away in the house.”
    “I never made it inside the house.” I was kind of glad about that. I didn’t need to see my poor kitchen torn up again.
    “Why’d that fucker shoot you? Why’d he shoot Bob?”
    “I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t remember too much of what Amelia told me.”
    “This guy was her dad’s chauffeur? What was his issue? He ever have a thing with Amelia? Maybe he was jealous of Bob.”
    That sounded pretty good. “Maybe that’s it,” I said. “Has Mr. Carmichael turned up?”
    “Not that I heard of. Maybe this Tyrese guy bumped him off first.” I wouldn’t feel easy until I knew where Copley was. I didn’t think Tyrese had killed him. Soulless or not, Tyrese was a loyal employee. Did the two of them have something to do with Arlene’s death? Were they working with Johan Glassport? That didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense. I leaned my head against the glass of Jason’s pickup window, and I kept silent the rest of the drive home.
    The first thing I noticed was my car, exactly where I’d left it yesterday when I’d climbed out of it and gotten shot. At least someone had shut the driver’s door. My blood was still on the ground beside it. I tried not to look. Jason came around to open the truck door, and I slid out carefully. I could walk on my own, but I wasn’t super-steady, and I appreciated the fact that he was there.
    He walked me right through the kitchen and into my bedroom, only letting me pause long enough to thank An and Michele. After depositing me on my bed, he vanished to return to work. I promptly got off the bed and shuffled into my bathroom to clean up, an awkward process with my bandaged shoulder, which had to be kept dry. In the end, I was a bit cleaner than I had been, though I couldn’t wash my hair. With some difficulty, I put on a clean nightgown. At that point, Michele came in to scold me and order me to get back on the bed. We compromised with the couch in the living room. She turned on the television, brought me the remote and a big glass of tea, and made me a sandwich for a belated lunch. I ate about half of it. I wasn’t that hungry, though it had been a while since I had eaten a real meal. Maybe the painkillers were suppressing my appetite, maybe I was depressed that there was so much death around my house, or maybe I was worried about Bill’s enigmatic note.
    An and Michele finished about an hour after Jason left, and I insisted on getting up to admire the job they’d done. My kitchen