Chapter 15
When it came to local information, Arthur knew exactly who to ask. The asking, though, was Salvatore’s job. He was the one with the cell phone.
“Text Quinn—see if we can stop by,” Arthur said as they left Lore’s domain.
Sal fiddled with his phone while Arthur donned his helmet.
It would probably be a few minutes before they got confirmation from Quinn, and they couldn’t take off until they knew where to meet her, but Arthur had designs on a pit stop for a snack if time allowed.
Perhaps pizza from Sugar and Slice or a banh mi from Down to Pho.
It was a good sign that he was thinking about food again.
First his hunger for food would return, then his hunger for solving a mystery.
Sal gasped so suddenly that Arthur accidentally chimed the bell on the handlebars of their bike.
“Someone’s found Rumble!” Sal exclaimed, practically shoving his phone beneath Arthur’s nose.
Taking the phone and holding it out at a distance he could actually see, Arthur read the text.
Hey I got this number off the missing cat posters? My name’s Jeff. I think I found your cat.
“We must make a detour!” Sal shouted, then paused. “Right?”
He looked so utterly pathetic, and Arthur’s chest constricted to hear Sal ask for permission. He must have been in bad shape earlier for Sal to worry a delay like this might derail Arthur’s regained confidence.
“Yes, of course.” Arthur clipped his helmet. “Arrange a place to meet. We’ll get Rumble home and settled, then do our research. Family comes first.”
Sal bounced on his heels as he typed, then both he and Arthur waited breathlessly for a response.
“What do the little dots mean?” Arthur asked, watching with curiosity over Sal’s shoulder.
“He’s writing back!”
A moment later the message arrived.
Meet in front of Trident Slaws
Fifteen minutes later, they were waiting in front of Trident Falls’ barbecue joint, scents of smoked meat wafting through the summer air. Arthur could really go for some brisket, but Sal practically vibrated next to him. Food would have to be secondary.
“Should I have gone home for her backpack?” Sal asked. “What if she wants to accompany us today?”
“I’m sure she’d prefer a cozy air-conditioned bed-and-breakfast, emphasis on the breakfast,” Arthur assured him.
“Right, of course. She’s probably had such a trying few days.” Sal wiped a tear that may or may not have existed from his eye. “Our brave daughter.”
Soon, a man holding a hard carrier approached.
“Jeff! The hero of the day!” Sal looked as if he wanted to run forward and hug the stranger. “Let me hold her!”
Arthur rather hoped Sal wouldn’t take the cat out of the carrier in public, since that was how he’d lost her in the first place. He didn’t think Sal could take it if they got Rumble back only for her to scamper away once more.
Jeff held up a hand. “Hang on, reward first. Your poster promised immortality.”
“Sal, I told you that was a bad idea,” Arthur whispered.
It would be just the thing to make a horrible week worse if the FPI got wind of this.
Turning new vampires was a dubious legal territory that required a great deal of paperwork now.
Gone were the days of wandering into a bar and, after one very significant misunderstanding, being given the curse of living forever.
Arthur wondered if he would have made the choice if he’d not only understood what was being offered, but had been required to take a few days to read over a detailed contract first. It was not lost on him that becoming a vampire was more involved than buying most firearms. He was, of course, glad of his fate now—it had led him to an eternal life with Sal—but things had gotten more complicated for fellows like Jeff who might desire a quick undeath.
Arthur cleared his throat and said, “Wouldn’t you prefer a cash reward?”
“No way. With eternal life, I can make more money off interest. Bite me, then I’ll give you the cat.”
This Jeff fellow wasn’t the Good Samaritan Arthur had been expecting. In fact, his demands were a little suspicious.
“I’ll do anything to get Rumble back.” Sal made to take a step toward Jeff, but Arthur threw out his arm.
“Let us see her first,” Arthur said, narrowing his gaze.
“Fine.” Jeff rolled his eyes, then lifted the cat carrier so they could get a better look.
Inside was a black cat, but Arthur knew immediately that it wasn’t Rumble. For one, this cat was bigger than Rumble, with yellow eyes instead of green. It wore a teal collar with a silver ID tag in the shape of a heart.
“That’s not our daughter!” Sal shrieked so loud the cat flinched back. “I’d know Rumble anywhere, and that’s not her!”
“Come on, the poster said missing black cat, and I brought you a cat,” Jeff huffed. “Pay up. Make me a vampire.”
Arthur wondered if this Jeff had simply abducted the first black cat he’d seen.
It probably belonged to a neighbor. Or worse, maybe it was his own pet.
If he was willing to go to such lengths to become a vampire, there was no telling what else he might do to the poor creature, especially now that it was no longer his ticket to immortality.
“We shall do no such thing.” Arthur darted forward and wrested the cat carrier out of Jeff’s grip. This would’ve been much easier at night, when he had his vampiric strength. “And we’re taking the cat.”
“Dumbass!” Sal added unhelpfully.
“Hey, you can’t do that! That’s my girlfriend’s cat!” Jeff made a grab for the carrier, but missed.
“I suspect she may not be your girlfriend anymore.” Arthur ducked behind Salvatore as he released the kickstand on the bike.
Jeff’s face turned an alarming shade of red. “Give it back or I’ll call the cops.”
“Go ahead. The sheriff is our close personal friend.” Sal grinned in a way that showed off his fangs. “We’ve even been to his house. Have you met Granny McMartin? She’s such a delight.”
Jeff held up his hands in defeat. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I care. I hate cats anyway.” He stalked off down the sidewalk.
Arthur slumped, relieved it wouldn’t come down to a physical altercation, or worse, actually calling the sheriff. He lifted the carrier and peered at the poor creature inside. The tag on the collar listed an address, as well as the cat’s name: Destiel.
“We’ll bring you back to your mummy. Don’t you worry,” Sal cooed, slipping his pinky finger between the bars of the carrier. “And we’ll tell her all about her terrible taste in boyfriends.”
Arthur waited outside with the bike while Sal took the lead on the Destiel situation.
The cat’s owner seemed nice enough, but she’d been wearing a Supernatural T-shirt.
Arthur had excused himself to let her and Sal discuss.
He’d gotten this far without learning anything about the show and he wasn’t about to break his streak now.
Leaning against the bike, Arthur got out his notebook to catalog all he’d learned from Lore.
Nonmagical potions.
That couldn’t be it, could it? They’d had such a productive conversation, but perhaps he’d learned less about the case than Lore herself.
Lore at least a generation old.
It wasn’t the mystery he was trying to solve, but it was still a fact.
At this stage of the investigation, he couldn’t afford to dismiss anything he’d learned, no matter how irrelevant to the case at hand.
He noted everything about their encounter with Jeff, Destiel, and her owner as well, for good measure before turning his attention to his surroundings.
He hadn’t been to this particular neighborhood before.
It was quiet, like all the others, with single-family homes and a few duplexes that looked to be of a newer build than those closer to the Dead & Breakfast. There were a few cars parked on the street (Arthur made sure to give them a wide berth, even though they were stationary) and the air smelled of honeysuckle, an invasive vine Arthur would never plant himself.
The bees led him to the offending shrub.
They really did smell delectable. What harm was there in enjoying the aroma?
It wasn’t as if he was the one to stick it in the ground.
Arthur reached for the plant, breaking off a few blooms, leaving a gap in the foliage.
There, on the other side, Arthur caught a glimpse of the yard beyond.
A woman in a striped matching pajama set held a watering can in one hand and a small child in the other.
Arthur recognized her immediately. It was Stephanie, Lore’s friend.
He opened his mouth to call a greeting to her, but thought better of it.
He would come across as terribly creepy, spying on her through the honeysuckle.
Stepping back, Arthur flipped a few pages in his notebook to where he’d taken his original notes about Stephanie:
Soaper
Possible murderer
Murder weapon: cilantro
He’d crossed out his suspicions about her after Lore’s first phone call clearing her name, but had he eliminated her as a suspect too soon? He jotted down a few more details:
New mom
Money troubles
Gardener
It wasn’t exactly compelling, but then clues never seemed like clues until it was too late. He snapped the notebook shut and made his way toward a whitewashed gate where it would be more appropriate to hail a neighbor.
“Stephanie? Is that you?” he called with an air of manufactured surprise.
“H-hello?” There was a sound of something heavy hitting the ground before Stephanie came into view, baby still on her hip, confirming that it was the watering can she’d dropped, thankfully. “Oh, it’s you.” Relief visibly flooded her face.
“Arthur,” Arthur said, pointing to himself. “We were in the neighborhood, returning a cat—you know what, that’s not important.” He forced a laugh. “I saw you across the street and thought I’d say hello.”
“Yes, I remember you. The owner of the Dead & Breakfast.”