Chapter 26 #2
“The laws are fuzzy when it comes to paranormal matters.” Nora shrugged and collapsed into a chair.
“Theo says if Brody doesn’t go to juvie for helping his father cover up George Roth’s murder, he’ll likely end up in foster care.
” Nora’s voice dipped at the end. “His chances are better if he has a responsible parent around.”
“He wants us to adopt him?” Sal asked, clutching his chest. “I don’t know if we’re cut out to be parents—cat parents, yes, but human child parents?
What kind of father would I be, anyway? Arthur is obviously the strict disciplinarian, but I don’t think I could stomach becoming a sports dad or a grilling dad.
Is there an elaborate-dinner-parties-and-fashion type of dad? ”
“That sounds like a wonderful type of dad, Salvatore.” Arthur placed a hand on Sal’s arm and squeezed. They’d agreed long ago to a childless existence, but Arthur didn’t think that was what this was about. He turned to Nora and lowered his voice. “He wants me to find his mother, doesn’t he?”
Nora nodded. “She’s a paranormal sort, from what I understand.”
“Trip said something about her being witchy. I suppose that’s as good a place as any to start.”
“Brody said he’d call you, so stay by your phone.” Nora pointed to the landline at the front desk and rolled her eyes. “Or you can join us in the twenty-first century.”
“I don’t need a cell phone. Salvatore has one.”
“What if I don’t want to share?” Sal asked, a glint in his eye. “Maybe I have secret things on there.”
“What, like your diary?” Arthur shrugged. “That’s fine—I don’t need to know every waking thought you have, though I suppose you’ll probably tell them to me anyway.”
“No! Not like a diary! Like…photos…of myself…” His eyebrows rose suggestively.
“I don’t need photos of you,” Arthur said smoothly, watching for the look of disappointment on Sal’s face out of the corner of his eye. When it landed, he reached for Sal’s waist and pulled him closer. “I don’t need photos because I’ve got the real thing.”
“Aww!” Nora clapped her hands together. “You are too cute.”
“Yes, well. Cute won’t get the chores done, and the guests will be arriving soon.” Arthur let Sal go and glanced at the clock on the wall, which read two forty-five. “Thanks for your help, Nora. And…” He hesitated, but then plowed on. “Thanks for being the Iris Inn’s final guest.”
Nora laughed and gave him a hug before leaving through the kitchen door to the back garden to join the others. “Good luck, you two.”
“With a bed-and-breakfast this fabulous, we don’t need luck,” Salvatore responded, then tugged on Arthur’s arm. “Come on, I have something to show you.”
“But I was going to start on a batch of scones…” Arthur followed anyway, a little wary that Salvatore was about to announce he’d adopted yet another stray cat. In the lobby, Rumble slept in the front window seat, curled in a sunbeam.
“What is it?” Arthur asked, glancing around the room. Everything looked normal, perfectly in place.
Salvatore pulled a box out of his pocket.
Arthur gasped in mock surprise. “You’re proposing to me?”
Salvatore chuckled. “Hey now, I’m supposed to be the funny one.”
“I guess you’ve rubbed off on me after all these years.”
A mischievous gleam filled Sal’s eyes, but before he could comment on Arthur’s phrasing, Arthur pushed on.
“What do you want to show me?”
“I got you a present.” Salvatore handed the little box over.
It was plain white cardboard with no logo or indication of what was inside. Arthur opened it to find—
“Business cards?” His voice nearly broke. He cleared his throat and read the card aloud. “ ‘Arthur Miller (no relation), VAMP PI: Very Astute Married Paranormal Private Investigator.’ ”
“Thought it was time to make it official,” Sal said.
“That’s very sweet, Sal, but…why mention I’m married?”
“Are you joking?” Salvatore leaned against the front desk. “In all your detective stories, there’s always some femme fatale who throws herself at the detective. I want all those beautiful ladies who come to you in need of murder-solving to know up front that you’re taken.”
“I’m also gay, Sal.”
“Well, there wasn’t a G in the acronym.” Sal stared at the freshly swept lobby floor. “Do you like them?”
“I love them.” Arthur pulled Salvatore into a kiss. “Thank you.”
Arthur tucked a few of the cards into his wallet, then stacked the rest on the front desk, beside the cards for the Dead & Breakfast and pamphlets for local attractions.
It looked official. Real. Perhaps Arthur did have a future in solving mysteries for his fellow paranormals.
“All that cleaning has made me so tired.” Salvatore stretched his arms toward the sky and yawned. “I’m going to take a nap, darling. Wake me up when it’s time to start cooking dinner.”
Arthur kissed Sal’s cheek, bade him a good nap, and settled in behind the lobby desk to wait for the guests who had reserved rooms for the night.
Nora’s tourism initiative was already working.
The town seemed on board now, for the most part, and all the anti-paranormal graffiti had stopped.
Brody’s friends had cleaned it all up in the past week while Brody himself recovered in the hospital.
Arthur settled in to wait for a while—who knew if the guests would even show up. But only a few minutes after check-in time passed, the door to the Dead & Breakfast opened and a group of about half a dozen walked in.
“Oh, it’s just as charming as the photos!” one cooed, pointing out the umbrella stand and Welcome sign.
“Look! They have a cat! She’s so cute!”
“Oh my god, is that a pun?”
Arthur stood, resisted the urge to straighten his tie, and smiled.
“Welcome to the Dead & Breakfast,” he said, handing out packets of welcome scones—raspberry with white chocolate icing in the shape of fangs.
As he checked them in one by one, he jotted notes on a Post-it:
Likes cats
Airplane hair
Glued to his phone
Suspiciously impressed by puns
Maybe it was just habit, but as one of the guests curiously took a business card, Arthur felt a little swell in his chest. He patted his notebook and smiled. It was a good habit to have. After all, one never knew what details might come in handy in his next case.