Dead in the Family

problem,” he muttered, his eyes on his old work boots. Terry survived on a monthly government check and on several odd jobs. For example, he came into Merlotte’s either very late at night or early in the morning to clean the tables and the bathrooms, and to mop the floors. He always said keeping busy kept him fit, and it was true that Terry was still built.
    “I’m Claude Crane, Sookie’s cousin.” Claude held out his hand to Terry.
    Terry muttered his own name and took Claude’s hand. His eyes came up to meet Claude’s. Terry’s eyes were unexpectedly beautiful, a rich golden brown and heavily lashed. I’d never noticed before. I realized I’d never thought about Terry as a man before.
    After the handshake, Terry looked startled. When he was faced with something out of his normal path, usually Terry reacted badly; the only question was of degree. But at the moment, Terry seemed more puzzled than frightened or angry.
    “Ah, did you want me to come look at it now?” Terry asked. “I have a couple of hours free.”
    “That would be wonderful,” Claude said. “I want my shower, and I want a hot one.” He smiled at Terry.
    “Dude, I’m not gay,” Terry said, and the expression on Claude’s face was priceless. I’d never seen Claude nonplussed before.
    “Thanks, Terry, I’d sure appreciate it,” I said briskly. “Claude’s got a key, and he’ll let you in. If you have to buy some parts, just give me the receipts. You know I’m good for it.” I might have to transfer some money from my savings to my checking, but I still had what I thought of as my “vampire money” safely stashed at the bank. And Mr. Cataliades would be sending me poor Claudine’s money, too. Something relaxed inside me every time I thought about that bit of money. I’d been balanced on the fine edge of poverty so many times that I was used to it, and the knowledge of that money I’d be able to sock in the bank was a huge relief to me.
    Terry nodded and then went out the back door to get his pickup. I speared Claude with a scowl. “That man is very fragile,” I said. “He had a bad war. Just remember that.”
    Claude’s face was slightly flushed. “I’ll remember,” he said. “I’ve been in wars myself.” He gave me another quick graze on the cheek, to show me he’d recovered from the blow to his pride. I could feel the envy of every woman in the bar beating against me. “I’ll be gone to Monroe by the time you get home, I suppose. Thanks, Cousin.”
    Sam came to stand beside me as Claude went out the door. “Elvis has left the building,” he said dryly.
    “No, I haven’t seen him in a while,” I said, definitely on auto-mouth. Then I shook myself. “Sorry, Sam. Claude’s one of a kind, isn’t he?”
    “I haven’t seen Claudine in a while. She’s a lot of fun,” Sam said. “Claude seems to be . . . more typical of the general run of fairies.” There was a question in his voice.
    “We won’t be seeing Claudine anymore,” I said. “As far as I know, we won’t be seeing any fairies but Claude. The doors are shut. However that works. Though I understand there’s still one or two lurking around my house.”
    “There’s a lot you haven’t told me,” he said.
    “We need to catch up,” I agreed.
    “What about this evening? After you get off? Terry’s supposed to come back and do some repairs that have piled up around here, but Kennedy is scheduled to take the bar.” Sam looked a little worried. “I hope Claude doesn’t make another pass at Terry. Claude’s ego is as big as a barn, and Terry’s so . . . You never know how he’s going to take stuff.”
    “Terry’s a grown man,” I reminded Sam. Of course, I was trying to reassure myself. “They both are.”
    “Claude isn’t a man at all,” Sam said. “Though he’s a male .”
    It was a huge relief when I noticed Terry’d returned an hour later. He seemed absolutely normal, not flustered, angry, or anything else.
    I had always tried to keep out of Terry’s head, because it could be a very frightening place. Terry did well as long as he kept his focus on one thing at a time. He thought about his dogs a lot. He’d kept one of the puppies from his bitch’s last litter, and he was training the youngster. (In fact, if ever a dog was taught to read, Terry would be the man who’d done it.)
    After he’d worked on a loose doorknob in Sam’s office, Terry sat at one of my tables and ordered a salad and some sweet tea. After I