Deadlocked: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel

and furthermore, the row of crepe myrtles by the walkway would prevent an easy sight line.
    I sure wanted to hold Vince’s hand. It would make it so much easier to find out what was going on in his head. I sighed. There was simply no casual way to touch flesh with a virtual stranger. Cara Ambroselli returned, looking impatient.
    The interview staggered on for thirty more minutes. I gradually understood that Ambroselli had assembled a lot of facts about each of the people present at the scene, but that all these facts might not add up to anything. She appeared to be homing in on the stripper part of Kym Rowe’s life, rather than the desperate-and-reckless part … or the part-Were part.
    I had no idea how to make that add up to clues about why Kym Rowe had shown up at Eric’s house, or who’d paid her to do so. But to me, it seemed obvious that the girl had been bribed to do her best to seduce Eric. Who’d paid for this and what they hoped to gain … I was as far from discovering the guilty party as Ambroselli.
    While I worked that night, I went over and over the events ofSaturday at Eric’s house. I served beers on autopilot. By the time I fell into bed, I found I couldn’t remember any of the conversations I’d had with customers and co-workers.
    Tuesday was another black hole. Dermot came in and out without saying much. He didn’t look happy; in fact, he looked anxious. When I asked him a question or two, he said, “The fae at the club, they’re worried. They wonder why Claude left, when he’ll return, what will happen to them when he does. They wish they had seen Niall.”
    “I’m sorry about Niall’s attitude,” I said hesitantly. I didn’t know if I should broach the subject or not. It had to be a painful one for Dermot, Niall’s son, to be so pushed aside and disregarded.
    Dermot looked at me, his eyes as pathetic as a puppy’s.
    “What’s Faery like?” I asked, in a clumsy attempt to change the subject.
    “It’s beautiful,” he said immediately. “The forests are green, and they stretch for miles and miles. Not as far as they used to … but still they’re green and deep and full of life. The shoreline is stony; no white sand beaches! But the ocean is green and clear….” He stood, lost in dreaming of his homeland. I wanted to ask a thousand questions: How did the fae pass their time? Did creatures like Bellenos mix with the fairies? Did they get married? What was childbirth like? Were there rich and poor?
    But when I saw the grief in my great-uncle’s face, I kept my curiosity to myself. He shook himself, gave me a bleak look. Then he turned to go upstairs, probably to seek consolation in House Hunters International .
    That night was notable only for what didn’t happen. Eric didn’t call me. I understood that his out-of-town company had the biggestclaim on his time, but I felt almost as shoved aside and disregarded as Dermot. As far as I was concerned, the vampires of Shreveport weren’t speaking to me, consulting me, or visiting me. Even Bill was conspicuously absent. Mustapha was presumably still searching for Warren. Ambroselli was presumably searching for the killer of Kym Rowe.
    Normally, I was a pretty cheerful person. But I wasn’t seeing an end to this complicated situation, and I began to think there might never be one.
    I made a creditable effort to leap out of bed with enthusiasm the next morning. I was rested, and I had to go to work, no matter what was happening in the supernatural world.
    Not a creature was stirring, not even an elf. I ate some yogurt and granola and strawberries, drank some coffee, and put on some extra makeup since I was still feeling unhappy in general. I took a few minutes to paint my fingernails. A girl’s gotta have a little color in her life.
    At the bustling post office, I used my key to empty the Merlotte’s mailbox, which served Sam for both business and personal use. Sam had gotten three envelopes from his duplex tenants. I riffled through the flyers that had been stuffed in the box and saw that the only bill worth worrying about was the electric bill. It soared in the summer, of course, since we had to keep the bar cool. I was almost scared to open it. I bit the bullet and slit the envelope. The total was bad, but not more than I expected.
    Terry Bellefleur pushed open the glass door while I was tossing unwanted mail into the trash. He looked good: more alert, not as skinny, maybe. There was a woman with him. When Terry stopped