Definitely Dead

Cataliades, this was a formal speech.
    My reaction was muted by my exhaustion, and I could only say, “I can’t think why she didn’t just put Hadley’s stuff into storage. I could have gone through it all at one of the rental places.”
    “You’ll get used to way the queen does things,” he said.
    Not if I had anything to say about it. “For right now, can you just show me how to get into Hadley’s apartment, so I can unpack and get some sleep?”
    “Of course, of course. And dawn is coming, so Mr. Compton needs to go to the queen’s headquarters to gain shelter for the day.” Diantha had already started up the stairs, which I could just make out. They curved up the short part of the L, which lay to the back of the lot. “Here is your key, Miss Stackhouse. As soon as Diantha comes down, we’ll leave you to it. You can meet the owner tomorrow.”
    “Sure,” I said, and trudged up the stairs, holding to the wrought-iron handrail. This wasn’t what I had envisioned at all. I thought Hadley would have a place like one of the apartments at the Kingfisher Arms, the only apartment building in Bon Temps. This was like a little bitty mansion.
    Diantha had put my sports bag and my big carryall by one of two doors on the second floor. There was a broad roofed gallery running below the windows and doors of the second floor, which would provide shade for people sitting inside on the ground floor. Magic trembled around all those French windows and the doors. I recognized the smell and feel of it, now. The apartment had been sealed with more than locks.
    I hesitated, the key in my hand.
    “It will recognize you,” called the lawyer from the courtyard. So I unlocked the door with clumsy hands, and pushed the door open. Warm air rushed out to meet me. This apartment had been closed for weeks. I wondered if anyone had come in to air it out. It didn’t smell actively bad, just stale, so I knew the climate control system had been left on. I fumbled around for the switch of the nearest light, a lamp on a marble-topped pedestal to the right of the door. It cast a pool of golden light on the gleaming hardwood floors and some faux antique furniture (at least I was assuming it was faux). I took another step inside the apartment, trying to imagine Hadley here, Hadley who’d worn black lipstick to have her senior picture made and bought her shoes at Payless.
    “Sookie,” Bill said behind me, by way of letting me know that he was standing right outside the doorway. I didn’t tell him he could come in.
    “I have to get to bed now, Bill. I’ll see you tomorrow. Do I have the queen’s phone number?”
    “Cataliades stuck a card in your purse while you were sleeping.”
    “Oh, good. Well, night.”
    And I shut the door in his face. I was rude, but he was hovering, and I just wasn’t up for talking to him. It had shaken me, finding my head in his lap when I woke; it was like we were still a couple.
    After a minute I heard his footsteps going back down the stairs. I was never more relieved to be alone in my life. Thanks to the night spent in a car and the brief sleep I’d had, I felt disoriented, rumpled, and desperately in need of a toothbrush. Time to scope out the place, with emphasis on bathroom discovery.
    I looked around carefully. The shorter segment of the upside-down L was the living room, where I now stood. Its open plan included a kitchen against the far right wall. On my left, forming the long side of the L, was a hall lined with French windows that opened directly onto the gallery. The wall that formed the other side of the hall was punctuated with doors.
    Bags in hand, I started down the hall, peering into each open door. I didn’t find the light switch that would illumine the hall, though there must be one, since there were fixtures at regular intervals on the ceiling.
    But enough moonlight streamed through the windows of the rooms to enable me to see as much as I needed. The first room was a bathroom, thank God, though after a second I realized it wasn’t Hadley’s. It was very small and very clean, with a narrow shower stall, a toilet and sink; no toiletries, no personal clutter. I passed it by and glanced in the next doorway, discovering that it opened into a small room that had probably been intended as the guest bedroom. Hadley had set up a computer desk loaded with computer gear, not items of great interest to me.
    In addition to a narrow daybed, there was a bookshelf crammed full with boxes and