Chapter 20
Though he was headed for almost certain arrest, and he was going there alone, Arthur felt strangely lighter, like he was finally walking in the right direction.
Funny how it was always easier to walk downhill.
Perhaps there was something to the notion of fresh air and exercise being good for the mind, because as Arthur made the lonely hike back toward town, his thoughts finally gained traction.
His fangs were a match to Brody Young’s bite, which meant someone had set him up.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it before.
It was just like when they’d tried to frame Sal by dumping the mayor’s body in their garden.
Someone wanted the town to believe vampires—and specifically Arthur and Sal—were responsible for the attacks on the mayor and Brody. Arthur just had to figure out who.
The motive for killing George Roth still escaped him, but Brody’s attack felt simpler: silencing someone who knew too much.
Perhaps Brody hadn’t killed the mayor at all, or if he had, he’d confided in someone who’d then helped him cover it up.
The sheriff was the most obvious suspect.
The two had worked together before, and of course there was the matter of McMartin’s mystery alibi.
Still, two things nagged at Arthur, or rather, two suspects.
Nora and Quinn. They’d been hiding things from him during his entire investigation. Perhaps it was time to use an age-old detective trick, something basically all fictional sleuths did at one point or another.
He’d have to trick them into confessing their involvement in all this.
Of course, that was easier said than done.
There was one pay phone left in Trident Falls.
Keeping his umbrella low so as to hide his face, Arthur hurried to the spot on the edge of downtown where it cowered against the north side of an abandoned storefront.
Thankfully, it was pretty far from the sheriff’s station, but Arthur wasn’t about to let his guard down just yet.
He slotted the correct amount of change into it and dialed the number for the inn.
He had to hope Nora would have the quick thinking to answer.
She didn’t.
Already, his plan was going to hell in a handbasket.
As the Iris Inn’s voicemail message played, Arthur weighed his options. He could hang up and cut his losses, or he could leave a message and hope the right person heard it.
“We hope to serve you well at the Iris Inn,” he heard his own voice say.
Then Sal’s crackled over the top, “Iris out!” before the beep sounded. Hearing his husband’s recorded words hurt more than Arthur expected, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
“Ah, yes, hello…uh…this is Arthur. Arthur Miller. No relation to the playwright, of course. Owner and proprietor of the Iris Inn. Hello? Nora? If you’re there, would you kindly—”
“Arthur?” Nora’s voice crackled. The pay phone truly was a relic of another time.
“Nora!”
“Is everything okay? I was just about to leave for the office.”
“Well…that is a simple question that has a complicated answer.” Arthur leaned against the pay phone, eliciting a creaking sound that was altogether not confidence inspiring. “Do you suppose you might meet me somewhere on your way into town?”
“Sure. The coffee shop?”
“Ah…I was hoping we might rendezvous somewhere less conspicuous.”
“Gotcha. How about the bait shop? It’s past the waterfront. It should be closed this time of year, so probably not a lot of traffic.”
“Perfect. See you soon.” Arthur hung up, gave the surrounding area a cursory glance for any watchful eyes, then headed south.
The bait shop was an old wooden building, only open during the peak of tourist season.
It was technically part of Trident Falls, though it was a little past the welcome sign (which still read Trident Balls).
In the shade of two interwoven willow trees was a rusted bench with patchy moss growing from cracks in the wood, but Arthur didn’t dare sit.
The structural integrity of the bench aside, he had to be on alert, ready for anything.
Nora didn’t take long. She pulled up in a silver Honda Accord and flashed him a smile as she got out.
“I used to come here all the time as a kid.” Nora glanced up at the bait shop. “It’s seen better days, that’s for sure.”
She wasn’t wrong. Loose shingles hung from the roof by a thread, and the gutters were in desperate need of cleaning. Arthur itched to climb up and, at the very least, clear out the worst of the buildup. If not for his fear of collapsing buildings, he might have done just that.
Instead, he took his cues from Nora, who sat on the bench of dubious sturdiness without incident, and sat beside her.
“Something we have in common.” Arthur smiled at the memory. “It still looks the same as it did back then. Better parking lot, though.”
This was, of course, not an impressive statement. The parking lot was a whole two spaces, one of which was taken up by Nora’s car, and the other was full of old tires and tarps.
“I didn’t realize this place had that much of a history. One day, we’ll have to compare notes about the rest of town. I’d love to put together a historical pamphlet or display or something. You could give a real eyewitness account of what this town was like back then.”
Arthur nodded. “Mostly the same. Some things were a little bit better…There wasn’t a murderer on the loose for a start. And I suppose there was less vocalized hate of paranormals.”
“Was there, though? Or were paranormals just not allowed in public, so no one needed to talk about them?” Nora asked.
“That’s a very good point.”
“It’s like how Oregon talks about being such a liberal haven…
like it’s exempt from all the bigotry the rest of the country is dealing with just because they made it harder for us to actually live here.
That’s why I left, you know.” She leaned back—a dangerous act in Arthur’s estimation—and sighed. “It’s why I came back, too.”
A silence fell between them, not unlike the first leaf of autumn. A herald of something far colder to come.
“I need to ask you something,” Arthur said finally.
“I figured as much.” Nora didn’t turn to look at him. “You want to know about me and Quinn.”
“It’s not for the reason you think—I promise, I’m not some gossip hound. That’s all Sal.” Arthur managed not to stumble over his name. He didn’t want Nora asking where his husband was.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“This is about the case,” Arthur said. “It’s just that the two of you are a mystery. Someone hurt Brody and killed the mayor, and now they’re trying to frame me. I suppose it doesn’t help anyone to beat around the bush…”
“Oh, Arthur. I promise it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t hurt Brody, and as much as I disliked the mayor, my plan for dealing with him was much less violent.
” Nora looked up then, turning a pitying gaze on Arthur.
“And also I like you and Salvatore. Trust me, if I was going to commit murder and then pin it on someone else, I’d pick a person I dislike. ”
“Like Quinn?”
Nora groaned. “You know what’s stupid? I thought she’d be happy to see me.”
Arthur sat there for a moment, waiting for Sal to shout in victory or something, but of course he wasn’t there. He’d left.
“Sal would be incredibly vindicated to know he was right about the two of you,” Arthur said instead. “He suspected there was some history you were hiding. Made you two look awfully suspicious, you know…”
“Have you ever been to a party where you think you know someone, but when you go to say hello they introduce themself like it’s the first time you’ve met?”
Arthur couldn’t help but laugh. “More than once. Salvatore is more of the partygoer, of course. I’m quite forgettable next to him.”
“Well, that’s what my first day at city hall was like. This is my hometown, but you wouldn’t know it from the reception I’ve gotten.”
“So, do you think Quinn is capable of murder?”
“If you’d asked me a week ago, no. Today? Maybe…”
“What changed?”
“How she was acting this morning at brunch. She looked guilty about something. I can always tell.” Nora let out a long breath that whistled ever so slightly, an echo of the wind.
“We grew up together. We were like those willows.” She pointed to the dark tree trunks covered in green moss behind them.
“So intertwined, people treated us like a single unit. I liked that. It was like having…I don’t know, not a sister exactly, but she was family.
” A laugh escaped her lips, small and sad.
“But when we graduated…well…some things happened, and in the end, I wanted to leave, and she wanted to stay. Guess there was no real way to separate us without pain.”
Arthur couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he just nodded and tried not to dwell on Sal, his own inexorably entangled soulmate.
“In the end, she cared more about the politics of this town, and I cared more about getting out. I wanted to make a difference somewhere. Took me the better part of a decade to realize I could make a difference right here. Or at least I can try. If Quinn could just get over herself…I swear, that girl wants to be mayor so badly she’s forgotten to actually care about why.
If she killed Mayor Roth, that’s probably the reason. ”
“I don’t want to be mayor.”
Arthur and Nora whipped around to see Quinn lurking behind the conjoined trunks. She looked much the same as she had at brunch, only a bit windblown with bits of twig and leaf in her pinned-up hair.
Nora scoffed. “Of course you’re here.”
“And I heard everything.” Quinn stepped into the open and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to be mayor, and I resent the implication that I would do something so horrible just to get ahead.”
“Oh, so you’ve suddenly grown a conscience, is that it?” Nora stood and mimicked Quinn’s pose. “I don’t remember you having such qualms about getting ahead when we were kids.”