better protection, any day.”
“I’l check from now on,” Pam promised. Her voice was cold. “I assumed the order came from you, and of course I set off for the store. When I got back, I checked the living room to make sure al was wel , and I heard Sookie enter. Since I knew you were anxious to see her, and I knew you were in the bedroom, I took her back there.”
I was in a group of multi-projectors. Ambrosel i’s brain was the busiest, natural y. T-Rex was thinking he was glad his publicist was on speed dial, and wondering whether or not this incident would help his image. Viveca and Cherie were terribly excited. They didn’t have the imagination to be relieved that the body on the lawn wasn’t one of them. My own head was whirling with the excitement pouring from so many heads.
“Mr. Compton, same questions for you,” Ambrosel i said. “Did you see the victim arrive?”
“I did not,” Bil said very positively. “I should have. I was in charge of watching the front of the house. But I didn’t see her get out of a car or approach by foot. She must have come through the back gate and up the hil to creep around the corner of the house and enter through the garage, or perhaps she came in through the French windows that open onto the kitchen and the living room. Though I’m sure some of our guests would have noticed if she’d entered there.”
There was a round of headshakes. No one had seen her come in that way.
“And you didn’t know her? Had never seen her?” Ambrosel i said to Pam.
“As Eric pointed out, she may have been to Fangtasia. I don’t remember meeting her or seeing her there.”
“Are there security cameras in Fangtasia?”
There was a moment of silence. “We don’t permit any sort of camera in Fangtasia while the club is open,” Eric said smoothly. “If patrons want pictures, there is a club photographer who is happy to take snapshots.”
“So let me see if I’ve got this right,” Ambrosel i said. “This house belongs to you, Mr. Northman.” She pointed from the floor to Eric. “And you’re the proprietor of Fangtasia. Ms…. Ravenscroft works there with you as the club manager. Ms. Ravenscroft does not live here in this house. Ms.
Stackhouse, from Bon Temps, is your girlfriend. She doesn’t live here, either. Mr. Compton—who sometimes works for you?—also lives in Bon Temps.”
Eric nodded. “Exactly so, Detective.” Bil looked approving. Pam looked bored.
“If you-al would go sit over at the dining table”—and the cop’s eyes expressed sardonic pleasure that a vampire had a dining table—“I’l talk to these nice people.” She smiled unpleasantly at the visiting vamps.
Pam, Eric, Bil , and I went to sit at the table. The darkness pressing at the windows loomed at my back in a very nerve-racking fashion.
“Mr. de Castro, Mr. Friedman, Ms. Witherspoon,” Ambrosel i said. “You’re al three visiting from— Vegas, is that right?” The three vampires, wearing identical approving smiles, nodded in chorus. “Mr. de Castro, you have a business in Las Vegas … Mr. Friedman is your assistant … and Ms. Witherspoon is your girlfriend.” Her eyes went from Eric, Pam, and me to the Las Vegas trio, drawing a definite paral el.
“Right,” Felipe said, as if he were encouraging a backward child.
Ambrosel i gave him a look that told Felipe he was permanently on her shit list. She turned to the next trio.
“So, Mr. Rexford, Ms. Dodson, Ms. Bates. Tel me again how you came to be here? You met up with Mr. de Castro and his party in the bar of the Trifecta?”
“I been dating T-Rex here for a while,” Cherie said. The massive wrestler put an arm around her. “And Viveca is my best buddy. We three were having a drink, and we met up with Felipe and his friends in the bar. We got to talking.” She smiled to show off her dimples. “Felipe said they were coming over to visit Eric, here, and they invited us to come along.”
“But the dead woman wasn’t with you at the bar at the casino.”
“No,” said T-Rex, now grave. “We never seen her at the Trifecta, or anywhere else, before we came in this house.”
“Was anyone else inside when they got here?” Detective Ambrosel i asked Eric directly.
“Yes,” Eric said. “My daytime man, Mustapha Khan.” I fidgeted at his side, and he cast me a quick glance.
Ambrosel i blinked “What’s a daytime man?”
“It’s sort of like having another assistant,” I said, leaping into the conversation. “Mustapha does the things that Eric can’t, things that require going out in the daylight. He goes to the post office; he picks up stuff from the printer; he goes to the dry cleaner; he gets supplies for this house; he gets the cars serviced and inspected.”
“Do al vampires have a daytime man?”
“The lucky ones,” Eric said with his most charming smile.
“Mr. de Castro, do you have a daytime man?” Ambrosel i asked him.
“I do, and I hope he is hard at work in Nevada,” Felipe said, radiating bonhomie.
“What about you, Mr. Compton?”
“I’ve been fortunate enough to have a kind neighbor who wil help me out with daytime errands,” Bil said. (That would be me.) “I’m hiring someone so I won’t tax her goodwil .”
The detective turned to the patrol officer behind her and issued some commands that the vampires could surely hear, but I could not. However, I could read her mind, and I knew that she was tel ing the officer to also search for a man named Mustapha Khan who seemed to be missing, and that the victim’s name was probably Kym Rowe and he should check the missing-persons list to see if she was on it. A plainclothes guy—another detective, I guessed —came in and took Ambrosel i out on the front porch.
While he whispered in her ear, I was sure al the vampires were trying hard to hear what he was tel ing her.
