Chapter 6 #2
Lore stepped forward, as though sensing the anger in the air. “This is fascinating stuff, guys, but I’ve got a body to see to.”
“Right, right. Thank you for stopping by, Ms.…Lore,” McMartin grunted, determinedly not looking at her. “I’ll call you if we need anything more.”
Lore made a face. “No, no, I’ll call you.”
“I’m the sheriff here, ma’am.” McMartin looked up, cheeks and throat flushed.
“Whatever. I gotta go, dude.” Lore gave Arthur a significant look before straightening her files and making for the door.
“I should go as well.” Arthur flexed his hands, which had balled into fists during McMartin and Salvatore’s exchange. He didn’t trust himself to stick around—unsure whom he wanted to berate more. “I’ll return,” he promised Salvatore, who nodded and played a singular shaky note on his harmonica.
As Arthur and Nora left, trailing after Lore, a mournful tune marked their exit.
“Oh, shut up,” the sheriff grumbled. “You sound like a dying heifer.”
Outside the sun was still shining brightly enough to make Arthur doubly glad he had his umbrella. In the distance, Lore ambled ahead, casually looking over her shoulder to check that they were following.
When they’d all walked far enough away from the police station, Lore stopped, pulled out her phone, and waited for them.
“Found out something interesting—” Lore began, but Arthur cut her off.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lore…” Arthur began, but Lore’s eyes narrowed and a small growl escaped her throat, so he trailed off.
“Don’t do that.”
“Sorry! Sorry, it’s just that it might not be wise to speak in the open like this. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No, not the interruption. Don’t call me Ms. Lore. It’s totally weird.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t think elves had surnames, but I wanted to be polite.”
Nora barked out a laugh. “Sorry, it’s just—you were trying to be polite, but you were interrupting.”
Lore grunted. “That, too. But I meant quit with the prefixes, okay? I get that it’s a thing in human and even former-human cultures, but it’s actually kind of derogatory to do that with elf names.
We believe all names should be respected, so adding any kind of honorific is basically saying that some names don’t deserve respect.
Elves may look similar to fae, but we’re not hierarchical like them. ”
Arthur, who’d spent his life stubbornly ignoring the existence of paranormals and his undeath mostly around other, as Lore had put it, former-human paranormals, knew little about elves.
Before he’d become a vampire, he’d thought of all paranormals as one thing, but from the moment his heart stopped beating, that misconception had melted away bit by bit.
Within the paranormal community, there were many differences and divides.
Vampires and werewolves, for example, had their various disagreements.
Even more pronounced, however, was the difference between those who were born paranormal, like elves and witches and dryads, and those who were once human, like vampires and werewolves and ghosts.
What Arthur knew about the former couldn’t even fill a teaspoon.
“My sincerest apologies. I didn’t know,” Arthur said.
“Well, now you do.”
“I won’t make the mistake again.”
Lore surveyed him with narrowed eyes but then nodded. “Yeah, you won’t. I like that about you—you’re not an asshole like the sheriff.”
Arthur wasn’t about to disagree with her there, but it wasn’t exactly a high bar. He’d do his best to live up to her expectations and then some.
“Should we reconvene elsewhere?” he asked after a short pause.
“Yeah. Meet me outside city hall in ten minutes. The benches on the lawn,” Lore said quickly before stalking off in the opposite direction.
“Is all this really necessary?” Nora asked. “I don’t think we look that suspicious.”
“Don’t we? We’re an odd bunch, to say the least.”
Nora shrugged. “I suppose…but an elf, a vampire, and a Black woman hanging out in Trident Falls is going to draw attention no matter where we meet.”
“Perhaps I’m being overly cautious, but the sheriff doesn’t yet know I’m investigating things myself.
” The hairs on Arthur’s arms stood up as a bracing breeze swept down the street.
A peculiar feeling rose in him even as the wind died, goose bumps pebbling his flesh.
He spun around, certain he was being watched, but as he scanned his surroundings, he found it was only Rumble staring at him from her hiding place in Nora’s purse.
“McMartin could have eyes anywhere, and I’d like to avoid his observation for the time being. ”
Rumble flicked her tail, as if insulted by the insinuation she’d be working for the sheriff.
Arthur really had to stop projecting so much personality onto a simple stray cat.
One of them had to keep their head. If history was any indication, it wouldn’t be Sal, and Arthur still wasn’t sure he could trust Nora.
Nora politely ignored Arthur’s paranoia. “I mentioned it before, but it might be a good idea to get a lawyer now. I don’t know if Salvatore can last the night in lockup.”
“He’s more resilient than he looks,” Arthur said, slowly turning and leading Nora toward city hall. “He was on a famous passenger ship that sank in the middle of the sea once. Claims he swam all the way back to shore.”
“The Titanic?” Nora gasped.
“If you believe him, yes.” Arthur had heard Salvatore tell the story dozens of times, the dramatization and similarity to the 1997 film increasing with each retelling.
He knew better than to believe Salvatore had actually sailed on the Titanic, but that wasn’t the point.
Salvatore was stronger than he let on. And more secretive.
“Well, if Salvatore asks, let’s say I believe it.
” Nora chuckled. “Bet that was an adventure, life or death—death or death? Can vampires drown? Never mind, I don’t need to know.
The point is, I know Salvatore can handle a harrowing situation.
But sitting in the police station for twenty-four hours is the worst kind of boring. Can Salvatore handle boring?”
Salvatore, in fact, could not, which was why he always brought drama, and apparently a harmonica, to whatever surroundings he happened to be occupying. Arthur wondered who’d break first—Sal, or the sheriff once Salvatore really got going.
Arthur sighed. “I wouldn’t know where to start with hiring a lawyer, and at this hour on a Friday, in Trident Falls?”
“Get someone from one of the cities. They’ll probably be better lawyers, anyway.”
Arthur shook his head. He knew there were a great many types of lawyers out there, but he couldn’t help but think of the well-dressed, slick-haired ones he’d seen on TV.
He could almost imagine Salvatore bursting into his thoughts like the Kool-Aid Man to insist that a movie lawyer like Elle Woods was exactly what he needed, but Arthur would find another way.
“I think we’ll be better off proving Sal’s innocence on our own.
Investigative measures will get us much further than any legal ones. ”
“What makes you say that?” Nora asked.
“Well, historically, lawyers haven’t been too keen to represent people like me. Who’s to say they wouldn’t try to sabotage us just for being paranormal?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”
“Illegal, perhaps, but not unlikely.”
Nora pursed her lips in thought. “We’ll just have to get you a paranormal lawyer—a para-legal, if you will!”
Arthur most certainly would not. Still, Nora was a guest and he didn’t want to ruin their rapport over a pun. Instead, he said, “I doubt we could afford their rates.”
“Hmm,” Nora began, then shook her head. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“I was going to ask something, but it’s rude.”
“Go ahead, if it’s important to the case.” Arthur hadn’t forgotten her name on his list of suspects, but perhaps she’d let something slip if he let her into his confidence.
“It’s just my curiosity about vampires.” She hesitated, then continued. “I assumed someone as old as Salvatore would have more wealth.”
“Oh, that.” Arthur nodded. “Most vampires are very wealthy by the time they get to be Sal’s age. You don’t exactly have to be good with money when you have eternity to let your piles of riches accumulate interest in the bank, after all. Salvatore’s…an outlier.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“He has terrible luck with investments. He claims he was cursed by a fae to always back the wrong horse, but I think he’s just too rash.” Arthur shrugged. “Besides, we spent most of my savings on renovations for the inn.”
Before Nora could respond, her phone chimed with a text alert. She frowned at it. “I have to go straight to the office. No time for a detour. Carry on without me.”
“Quinn?”
Nora blinked at her phone. Though she didn’t respond, the sour expression on her face was confirmation enough. “Keep me updated about the case?” she asked, slipping her phone back into her bag.
Arthur nodded, though he couldn’t help the wave of unease that passed over him. Nora was awfully interested in this investigation. He hoped it was simple curiosity and not something more sinister.
“You’ll be wanting your cat back, I assume?” Nora lifted Rumble from her purse and held her out for Arthur.
He took the cat awkwardly, uncertain of what exactly to do with her.
He could plop her down on the sidewalk, but she might scamper off and get hit by a car or something, and then he’d never hear the end of it from Sal.
Instead, he just held her close to his chest, eliciting an indignant meow from the cat as she was unceremoniously smooshed.
Nora winced and fluttered her hand toward Rumble as if to assist, but she seemed to think better of it and simply hmmed before giving them both a half-hearted wave and making for city hall.