Chapter 15
Untangling the mess they were in was easier said than done. Arthur peered at his notebook with blurred vision. He couldn’t focus on the words, not while his brain was buzzing so loudly.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to fall asleep standing up,” Theodore said, crossing to the door, keys in hand.
Arthur ushered Sal onto the street as Theodore locked up behind them.
“I’ve done that,” Sal said. “You know, it’s not quite so unpleasant when you don’t have to worry about circulation and so on. No blood pooling in your feet or anything.”
“Right…” Theodore gave them an exhausted smile. “Well. Bedtime. You two get home safe, all right?”
Arthur nodded as Theodore headed in the direction opposite the Iris Inn, but Arthur had no intention of going home. Instead, he grabbed Sal’s hand and pulled him to a halt just outside the café.
“Not yet,” he whispered, eyes trained on Theodore’s retreating back.
Sal eyed Arthur with interest. “What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”
“I’m not…I’m not sure yet…” Arthur could feel an epiphany just out of reach, like the threat of a phantom sneeze. “Something’s bothering me about all this.”
“Yes, murder is rather bothersome, isn’t it?”
“No, not that—although, yes, also that.” Arthur shook his head to clear it, but it was like a thick fog had settled in his brain. “It’s just…Who would want Brody dead?”
“Besides us, you mean?”
“Sal!” Arthur’s brows shot up and he put his finger against his lips.
The truth was, until all the funny business with the mayor’s murder, Arthur would hardly have known Brody from any other teenager in Trident Falls.
Even now that the evidence pointed toward Brody being at fault for their current predicament, he couldn’t bring himself to wish ill on Brody.
Well, not of the violent sort, anyway. Whispering, he said, “I mean, yes, I can imagine that would be the sheriff’s line of thinking, but you don’t have to say it aloud. ”
“Shall I mime it?”
“No!”
“Pity. I so rarely get the opportunity to utilize the skills I learned at clown school.”
Arthur put his head in his hands and heaved a sigh. “What I mean to say is that we should work backward—what do we know about Brody?”
“He’s a teenager, his father’s a dentist, he’s a bit of a vandal…”
“That’s it!” Arthur grabbed hold of Sal’s lacy shirtsleeve and tugged.
“Careful!” Sal brushed Arthur off, cradling the fabric of his shirt.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wrinkle your—what do you call them? Vintage threads?”
“Actually, I got this at Hot Topic, but there isn’t one of those for miles around here. Could be centuries before I step inside another mall.”
Arthur blinked. “Right…well…back to Brody. You don’t suppose someone might have wanted to hurt him because of the graffiti?” Suspicion crept into Arthur’s mind, a prowling, predatory wolf.
“Like…one of the downtown business owners?”
“Exactly, a downtown business owner whose shop had been tagged recently, who knew Brody was here tonight.”
“I know that look.” Salvatore’s eyes widened. “Don’t let your prejudice cloud your judgment now. Theo wouldn’t do something like this.”
“Think about it. He’s the one who told us Brody’s truck was in the area.
What if he came upon him painting graffiti and lost his temper?
” The more Arthur thought about it, the more sense it made.
Theodore had been awfully eager to let them sit in the coffee shop to talk to McMartin, perhaps because he wanted to know what they said.
And, of course, he’d been reserved the whole time, not offering up any aid when the sheriff was jumping down their throats.
Helping Salvatore before might have been just another way of getting closer to the investigation.
Perhaps he’d had it in for Brody this whole time.
“I suppose we could look into him, if it will make you feel better.” Salvatore glanced at the sky, clouds crossing in front of a vibrant gibbous moon. “Maybe in the morning—”
“We should go now.” Arthur hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep in the last few days, but he felt alert and energized.
They were nocturnal, after all, and Theodore wasn’t.
The coffee shop opened bright and early each morning, so he would have to go to sleep soon.
“I bet there’s physical evidence on his clothes. He was wearing a jacket—”
“Because it’s cold at night.”
“Or because he was covering up a bloodstain.” Arthur nodded to himself. This grew more compelling by the moment. “If we go now, we can look around his house, make sure to find his clothes before he can destroy the evidence.”
“Breaking and entering?” Sal perked up. “I like the sound of that. Arthur, I had no idea you were a bad boy.”
“Sal, this is serious. It’s Saturday night, and the FPI is still coming on Monday. McMartin will try to pin all this on us. Now he has Dr. Young on his side, too.”
“Well, woe is us—suppose we’ll have to find a new dentist.”
“I hardly think that will be the most pressing issue if we aren’t able to find the real culprit.”
“Have a little fun, Arthur. If there’s one thing immortality has taught me, it’s that there’s always time to be serious later.”
Arthur jogged as quietly as he could alongside a hovering Salvatore.
Keeping a safe distance, they dogged Theodore’s steps.
With any luck, Theodore would toss his bloody clothes into the trash outside and save them a lot of trouble.
Breaking and entering, after all, was difficult for a vampire to do without express invitation.
From the cover of some nearby bushes, Arthur and Salvatore watched as Theodore strolled up the sidewalk to a modest cottage with a—Arthur was loath to admit—flourishing garden.
“Well, what now?” Sal asked as Theodore disappeared behind his front door.
“We wait for him to toss his clothes.”
“What if Theo is so exhausted by everything he goes to sleep fully dressed?” Salvatore stepped out from behind the hedges, picking a few crunchy leaves from his hair.
“What kind of person sleeps in bloody clothes?” Arthur did not remove himself from their hiding place. After all, he was still hoping Theodore might exit once more to dispose of the evidence.
“I’m suggesting he might not be a murderer. I know you’re a little obsessed with him—”
“Am not,” Arthur snapped.
“You need to be ready for the very real possibility that no one attacked Brody Young over some silly graffiti.” Salvatore sighed and turned his attention to Arthur, leaning over and grooming him as well, not unlike a mama bird.
He smoothed Arthur’s collar rather more intently than was necessary before adding, “Just keep an open mind.”
“I will consider all evidence fairly.” Arthur knew Salvatore had a point, but he wasn’t going to walk away from this now. If they snooped around and didn’t smell any blood, they’d leave and Arthur would cross Theodore off his suspect list.
Maybe.
The lights went off in Theodore’s house, and there’d been no sign of suspicious activity.
“Damn it!” Arthur shook his head in defeat. “Well, this was pointless.”
“Whoa, there.” Sal caught Arthur’s hands in his and frowned. “It’s not like you to give up so easily.”
“I thought you didn’t want me looking into Ted.”
“Theo.” Sal glanced at the house, windows as dark as the rest on the street. “If you really think he might be guilty, then we should do everything we can to make sure. One way or another.”
Arthur sighed and stepped out from behind the bushes. “Obviously I agree, but there’s nothing to be done about it. He’s gone to bed. Any evidence we might use is inside.”
A mischievous smile spread across Sal’s lips as he floated backward toward the werewolf’s house, arms waving in what Arthur could only assume was meant to be a come-hither dance.
It worked, as Arthur followed him. “What are you doing?”
“The evidence is inside, right? So…we go inside.”
Arthur stopped in his tracks at the base of the stairs leading up to the porch. “Absolutely not. Salvatore, you should know better.”
“You think I’m afraid of a little threshold?” He pointed to the door, a dark teal color with a brassy doorknob. “Child’s play.”
“Child’s play? Is that what you call it? I was there, Sal. I remember. You couldn’t so much as hover for weeks after you snuck in to Lady Grozdana’s rave.”
“Totally worth it.”
“You couldn’t even feed yourself.”
“She had those color-changing glow sticks.”
“You had to drink everything through a straw.”
“To be fair, straws are cool, and I still do that.”
“Salvatore!” Arthur stomped his foot, knowing he looked ridiculous and not caring.
Vampires didn’t often get sick, but crossing a threshold uninvited was a surefire way to knock one out of commission.
Arthur had never tried it himself, but Salvatore had likened it to passing through an electric field of sorts.
First, he’d felt immeasurable pain, then he’d felt numb, then he’d felt weaker than a baby.
Salvatore’s usual dramatics paled in comparison to sick-day Sal.
If not for witnessing the aftermath himself, Arthur might not have believed him.
“Not worth it? I suppose we could just go home and give up on solving this mystery.” Salvatore took a step back down the stairs, but his eyes glinted with unspoken mischief.
“Or?” Arthur prompted, ascending the stairs one at a time.
“Or…we could try to get the invite.” Salvatore whipped out his phone and began typing.
Arthur leaned in to read over his shoulder.
Hey there, Theo. It’s obviously been a spectacularly weird night, but we wanted to say thanks for your help and hospitality.
“There. That ought to do it.” Sal hit send.
“Do what?” Arthur twisted his expression into a grimace. “I really don’t think—”
Salvatore held up a finger to silence Arthur. “Wait for it…”
A new message arrived.
You’re very welcome.
“There it is.”
“Do you really think that’s going to be enough? You’re welcome isn’t exactly Oh yes, please do come into my house.”
“Yes, but it’s not not that.”