Dead in the Family

yard. I looked out to see Bud, Alcee, and Andy brushing dust and twigs off their clothes. Andy was rubbing at a bite on his neck.
    I went outside. “Did you find a body?” I asked them.
    “No, we did not,” Alcee Beck said. “We did see that people had been back there.”
    “Well, sure,” I said. “But no body?”
    “We won’t trouble you any further,” Bud said shortly.
    They left in a cloud of dust. I watched them go, and shivered. I felt like the guillotine had been descending on my neck and had been prevented from cutting off my head only because the rope was too short.
    I went back to the computer and sent Alcide an e-mail. It said only, “The police were just here.” I figured that would be enough. I knew I wouldn’t hear from him until he was ready for me to come to Shreveport.
     
     
     
    I was surprised that it took three days to receive a reply from Bill. Those days had been remarkable only for the number of people I hadn’t heard from. I hadn’t heard from Remy, which wasn’t too extraordinary. None of the members of the Long Tooth pack called, so I could only assume they’d retrieved the body of Basim from its new resting place and that they would let me know when the meeting would be held. If someone came into my woods and tried to find out why Basim’s body had vanished, I didn’t know about it. And I didn’t hear from Pam or Bobby Burnham, which was a little worrisome, but still . . . no big.
    What did gripe me in a major way was not hearing from Eric. Okay, his (maker, sire, dad) mentor Appius Livius Ocella was in town . . . but geez Louise.
    In between sessions of worrying, I looked up Roman names and found that “Appius” was his praenomen, his common name. Livius was his nomen, his family name, handed down from father to son, indicating that he was a member of the Livii family or clan. Ocella was his cognomen, so it was meant to indicate what particular branch of the Livii had borne him; or it could have been given as an honorific for his service in a war. (I had no idea what war that could have been.) As a third possibility, if he’d been adopted into another family, the cognomen would reflect his birth family.
    Your name said a lot about you in the Roman world.
    I wasted a lot of time finding out all about Appius Livius Ocella’s name. I still had no idea what he wanted or what he intended to do to my boyfriend. And those were the things I needed to know the most. I have to say, I was feeling pretty sulky, pugnacious, and sullen (I looked up a few words while I was online). Not a pretty posy of emotions, but I couldn’t seem to upgrade to dull unhappiness.
    Cousin Claude was making himself scarce, too. I glimpsed him only once in those three days, and that was when I heard him go through the kitchen and out the back door and got up in time to see him getting into his car.
    This goes to explain why I was delighted to see Bill at my back door when the sun had set on the third day after I’d sent him Halleigh’s e-mail. He was not looking appreciably better than he had the last time I’d seen him, but he was dressed in a suit and tie and his hair was carefully combed. The Bible was under his arm.
    I understood why he was groomed, what he meant to do. “Good,” I said.
    “Come with me,” he said. “It will help if you’re there.”
    “But they’ll think . . .” And then I made my mouth shut. It was unworthy to be worrying about the Bellefleurs’ assuming Bill and I were a couple again when Caroline Bellefleur was about to meet her maker.
    “Would that be so terrible?” he asked with simple dignity.
    “No, of course not. I was proud to be your girlfriend,” I said, and turned to go back to my room. “Please come in while I change clothes.” I’d finished the lunch-and-afternoon shift, and I’d changed to shorts and a T-shirt.
    Since I was in a hurry, I changed to an above-the-knee black skirt and a white cap-sleeve fitted blouse I’d gotten on sale at Stage. I slid a red leather belt through the belt loops and got some red sandals from the back of my closet. I fluffed my hair, and I was ready.
    I drove us over in my car, which was beginning to need an alignment.
    It wasn’t a long ride to the Bellefleur mansion; it didn’t take long to get anywhere in Bon Temps. We parked in the driveway at the front door, but as we’d driven up I’d glimpsed several cars in the back parking area. I’d seen Andy’s car there, and Portia’s, too. There was an