Dead in the Family

said to the white-haired man, “what you’re doing is illegal, and I could put you in jail. I really don’t want to have to do that.”
    “We’re willing to be arrested for our beliefs,” the man said. “Isn’t that so, you-all?”
    Some of the church members didn’t look entirely certain of that.
    “Maybe you are,” Kenya said, “but we got Jane Bodehouse in one of the cells now. She’s coming off a bender, and she’s throwing up about every five minutes. Believe me, people, you do not want to be in there with Jane.”
    The woman who’d originally come into Merlotte’s turned a little green.
    “This is private property,” Kevin said. “You cannot demonstrate here. If you don’t clear this parking lot in three minutes, all of you are under arrest.”
    It was more like five minutes, but the parking lot was clear of demonstrators when Sam joined us in the parking lot to thank Kevin and Kenya. Since I hadn’t seen his truck drive up, his appearance was quite a surprise.
    “When did you get back?” I asked.
    “Less than ten minutes ago,” he said. “I knew if I showed myself, they’d just get pumped up again, so I parked on School Street and walked through the back way.”
    “Smart,” I said. The lunch crowd was leaving Merlotte’s, and the incident was already on the track to becoming a local legend. Only one or two of the patrons seemed upset; the rest regarded the demonstration as good entertainment. Catfish Hennessy clapped Sam on the shoulder as he went by, and he wasn’t the only one who made an extra effort to show support. I wondered how long the tolerant attitude would last. If the picketers kept it up, a lot of people might decide that coming here simply wasn’t worth the trouble.
    I didn’t need to say any of this out loud. It was written on Sam’s face. “Hey,” I said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “They’ll go away. You know what you should do? You should call the pastor of that church. They’re all from Holy Word Tabernacle in Clarice. You should tell him that you want to come talk to the church. Show them you’re a person just like everyone else. I bet that would work.”
    Then I realized how stiff his shoulders were. Sam was rigid with anger. “I should not have to tell anyone anything,” he said. “I’m a citizen of this country. My father was in the army. I was in the army. I pay my share of taxes. And I’m not a person like everyone else. I’m a shifter. And they need to just put that on their plates and eat it.” He whirled to go back into his bar.
    I flinched, though I knew his anger wasn’t directed at me. As I watched Sam stalk away, I reminded myself that none of this was about me. But I couldn’t help but feel I had a stake in the outcome of this new development. Not only did I work at Merlotte’s, but the woman who’d come in initially had named me as part of the problem.
    Furthermore, I still thought approaching the church in person was a good idea. It was reasonable and civil.
    Sam wasn’t in a reasonable and civil mood, and I could understand that. I just didn’t know where he was going to put his anger.
    A newspaper reporter came in an hour later and interviewed all of us about “the incident,” as he called it. Errol Clayton was a guy in his forties who wrote about half the stories in the little Bon Temps paper. He didn’t own it, but he managed it on a shoestring budget. I had no issue with the paper, but of course lots of folks made fun of it. The Bon Temps Bugle was frequently called the Bon Temps Bungle .
    While Errol was waiting for Sam to finish a phone call, I said, “You want a drink, Mr. Clayton?”
    “I’d sure appreciate some iced tea, Sookie,” he said. “How’s that brother of yours?”
    “He’s doing well.”
    “Getting over the death of his wife?”
    “I think he’s come to terms with it,” I said, which covered all sorts of ground. “That was a terrible thing.”
    “Yes, very bad. And it was right here in this parking lot,” Errol Clayton said, as if I might have forgotten. “And right here, in this parking lot, was where the body of Lafayette Reynold was found.”
    “That’s true, too. But of course, none of that was Sam’s fault, or had anything to do with him.”
    “Never arrested anyone for Crystal’s death that I recall.”
    I reared back to give Errol Clayton a hard stare. “Mr. Clayton, if you’ve come here to make trouble, you can just leave now. We need things to be better, not