Chapter 9 #3
“We’ve been busy ourselves,” Arthur said, and then, before Sal could make the comment he was certainly opening his mouth to share, hurried on.
“And not just with looking for Rumble. The inn is booked solid, but I’m still not certain it’ll be profitable enough to keep us afloat after this quarter.
Plus, Ambrosia Celestine asked us to find Lola’s killer, and I’m still looking for…
” Arthur trailed off, suddenly not so eager for chitchat.
“Brody’s mother?” Theodore asked in a soft, understanding voice.
“How did you—”
“Brody’s mentioned it once or twice.” Theo offered Arthur a sympathetic smile.
“He’s been picking up extra shifts at the shop.
Usually I open the store, since it’s like pulling teeth to get my employees up that early, but with the festival ongoing, Brody’s volunteered every day this week.
I think he needs to get out of the house.
He doesn’t have many people in his corner right now. It’s kind of you to help him.”
“Well, you know, I’m doing my best,” Arthur muttered.
He didn’t at all feel like he was being honest, though.
The truth was he was as stumped when it came to Wilhelmina Young as he was with all the other mysteries plaguing him currently.
Even more so, perhaps, since he didn’t have any leads.
“I’ve hit another dead end, actually,” Arthur confessed, unable to keep up the charade.
Theo cracked a smile. “Sorry. It’s not really funny, all things considered, but…a vampire hitting a dead end? Now, that’s got some poetry to it.”
“Arthur’s being modest. We have a clue, and I’m sure this smarty-pants will work out what it means posthaste!” Sal reached over to pinch Arthur’s cheek somewhat painfully.
Theo leaned forward in interest. “A clue? That’s promising!”
“I wrote to the return address on the letters she sent Brody, but got a strange reply,” Arthur explained.
“Strange how?” Theodore asked.
“We shall show you!” Sal popped up and, ignoring the kettle, which was beginning to sing, rushed to the basket where they put their unsorted mail. He returned with the letter, holding it out like a delicate treasure for Theodore to take.
Arthur got up to steep the tea, selecting one of the herbal blends. He didn’t need more caffeine on top of the anxiety he already felt.
Behind him, Theo let out a curious hum. “This is odd. Almost sinister. Do you know what they mean by organization?”
“No clue. Yet,” Sal answered. “Our Arthur will figure it out, though. He’s too clever not to.”
Thankfully, Arthur was facing the counter and not the others, so they couldn’t see his grimace.
Sal had a lot of faith in him, but it was faith Arthur didn’t share.
Not at the moment, anyway. Part of him wished Sal would stop saying such things.
It put an awful lot of pressure on his intellect when the fact of the matter was they simply didn’t have enough information to go on.
“Huh.” Theodore inhaled sharply. “Is that sage?”
“Lavender,” Arthur replied, carrying the teapot and three matching ivory cups on saucers toward the table. “It’s a rooibos blend from a tea company out of Portland. I try to stock only Oregon products if I can. The guests seem to like the local flavor—”
“No, I definitely smell sage.” Theodore bent toward the paper and sniffed. “It’s the letter.”
“Are you sure?” Arthur asked.
“Definitely. A werewolf nose never lies.”
“Well, another oddity to add to the list, I suppose.” Arthur shrugged and poured the tea.
“Sorry I couldn’t provide any more conclusive information.”
“That’s all right. You’ve actually helped quite a bit.”
Theo sipped his tea thoughtfully. “You’re one mysterious dude, Arthur Miller.”
“Am I? I rather thought I was straightforward.”
Sal cleared his throat. “I hate to disrupt such promising banter, but we’d best drink up!”
Theodore, who remained, it seemed, in the dark about Sal’s invented romantic narrative about them, peered curiously at Sal. “Got something fun planned for the evening?”
“Oh yes! It’s a good thing you came early.” Sal’s gaze practically smoldered over his teacup. “We’re undertaking a sting operation!”
“It’s not a sting operation,” Arthur corrected immediately.
“It could be!” Sal exclaimed. “I do know how you love a little honeybee. Sting, sting!”
Arthur turned back to Theo, the lesser of two weirdos in this particular instance. “We’re attending Lola Lataurelle’s memorial service. Hopefully we’ll get a chance to question witnesses and suspects while we’re there.”
“Sounds like you might ruffle some feathers.” Theo drained his cup. “Bee careful.”
Sal laughed uproariously at Theo’s pun.
“Oh, we must take care not to bumble about!”
Arthur would not be party to such a base form of humor. He stood up and removed himself from their volley.
“Be sure to listen for all the buzz about town.”
“Oh yes, Arthur will be our very own Insector Gadget!”
The rush of the kitchen sink drowned out their incessant puns and the meditative task of washing dishes soothed Arthur’s mind.
He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity tonight.
He would find Lola’s killer as quickly as possible.
Then he could devote all his attention to finding Brody’s mother.
Yes, if he could only check one item off his to-do list, he would be able to tackle the rest more easily.
The murderer would be unmasked tonight at the memorial, assuming they actually showed up.