From Dead to Worse

explaining that Claude wouldn’t be interested in anyone’s daughter, then decided that wasn’t my responsibility. “Have a good time,” I said instead.
    Since I’d taken time out with my sort-of cousins, I had to hustle to sweeten everyone up. Though they hadn’t had my attention during the visit, they had had the entertainment of the twins, so no one was really miffed.
    Toward the end of my shift, Copley Carmichael walked in.
    He looked funny alone. I assumed Marley was waiting in the car.
    In his beautiful suit and with his expensive haircut, he didn’t exactly fit in, but I got to give him credit: he acted like he came into places like Merlotte’s all the time. I happened to be standing by Sam, who was mixing a bourbon and Coke for one of my tables. I explained to Sam who the stranger was.
    I delivered the drink and nodded at an empty table. Mr. Carmichael took the hint and settled in.
    “Hey! Can I get you a drink, Mr. Carmichael?” I said.
    “Please get me a single malt scotch,” he said. “Whatever you’ve got will be fine. I’m meeting someone here, Sookie, thanks to your phone call. You just tell me the next time you need anything, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”
    “Not necessary, Mr. Carmichael.”
    “Please, call me Cope.”
    “Um-hmmm. Okay, let me get your scotch.”
    I didn’t know a single malt scotch from a hole in the ground, but Sam did, of course, and he gave me a shining clean glass with a very respectable shot of it. I serve liquor, but I seldom drink it. Most folks around here drink the real obvious stuff: beer, bourbon and Coke, gin and tonic, Jack Daniel’s.
    I set the drink and cocktail napkin on the table in front of Mr. Carmichael, and I returned with a little bowl of snack mix.
    Then I left him alone, because I had other people to tend to. But I kept track of him. I noticed Sam was keeping a careful eye on Amelia’s dad, too. But everyone else was too involved in their own conversations and their own drinking to give much mind to the stranger, one not nearly as interesting as Claude and Claudine.
    In a moment when I wasn’t looking, a vampire joined Cope. I don’t think anyone else knew what she was. She was a real recent vamp, by which I mean she’d died in the past fifty years, and she had prematurely silver hair that was cut in a modest chin-length style. She was small, maybe five foot two, and she was round and firm in all the right places. She was wearing little silver-rimmed glasses that were sheer affectation, because I’d never met a vampire whose eyesight wasn’t absolutely perfect and in fact sharper than any human’s.
    “Can I get you some blood?” I asked.
    Her eyes were like lasers. Once she was really giving you her attention, you were sorry.
    “You’re the woman Sookie,” she said.
    I didn’t see any need to affirm what she was so sure of. I waited.
    "A glass of TrueBlood, please,” she said. “Quite warm. And I’d like to meet your boss, if you would fetch him.”
    Like Sam was a bone. Nonetheless, she was a customer and I was a barmaid. So I heated a TrueBlood for her and told Sam he was wanted.
    “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, because he was getting a tray of drinks ready for Arlene.
    I nodded and took the blood over to the vampire.
    “Thank you,” she said civilly. “I’m Sandy Sechrest, the new area rep for the King of Louisiana.”
    I had no idea where Sandy had grown up, but it had been in the United States and had not been in the south. “Pleased to meet you,” I said, but not with a whole lot of enthusiasm. Area rep? Wasn’t that what sheriffs were, among their other functions? What did that mean for Eric?
    At that moment Sam came to the table, and I left because I didn’t want to look inquisitive. Besides, I could probably pick it up from his brain later if Sam chose not to tell me what the new vampire wanted. He was good at blocking, but he had to make a special effort to do it.
    The three engaged in a conversation for a couple of minutes, then Sam excused himself to get back behind the bar.
    I glanced at the vampire and the mogul from time to time in case they needed something more to drink, but neither of them indicated a thirst. They were talking very seriously, and both of them were adept at maintaining a poker face. I didn’t care enough to try to latch onto Mr. Carmichael’s thoughts, and of course Sandy Sechrest was a blank to me.
    The rest of the night was the usual