The tavern suddenly felt cold, and the half-elf busied himself by making a fire and boiling water for tea. He could have done it in the kitchen, but he didn't want to leave Magiere. And Caleb was in the kitchen with Beth-rae's body, which Leesil could not bring himself to look at right now.
Somehow the three of them managed to make small talk. Brenden seemed hesitant to question too much concerning the night's events, likely not wanting to wear out his welcome now that he'd regained some acceptance. Magiere avoided giving any complete answers to the few questions asked. Enough of that would be covered all over again once Ellinwood arrived. With Magiere running out of evasive answers and Brenden short on acceptable questions, the room became oppressively quiet until another knock sounded.
"That will be him," Magiere said with distaste. "Leesil, can you get the door?"
This time the visitor was indeed Constable Ellinwood, clearing his throat in place of a greeting and looking somewhat put upon in fulfilling his duty. His vast, colorful form filled the doorway like that of an emerald giant gone soft through years of idleness.
"I hear you had some trouble," he said, his tone that of someone wishing to take command, yet preferring to be somewhere else. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept well, and his fleshy jowls appeared even looser than usual.
"You could say that," Leesil answered coldly. He turned away without even a gesture for the constable to enter. "Beth-rae is dead. Some lunatic tore out her throat with his fingernails."
Ellinwood, entering behind him, sputtered at the bluntness of Leesil's statement. Then he spotted the dark stain on the floor at the bar's far end.
"Where's the body?"
"Caleb took her into the kitchen," Leesil answered. "I didn't have the heart to tell him no."
"Why don't you ask them what happened," Brenden said, his arms crossed, "before you start looking for 'clues' for something you know nothing about."
"What's he doing here?" Ellinwood demanded.
"I invited him," Leesil answered in a half-truth.
Up to this point, Magiere had drifted closer to the fireplace and simply stood by watching and listening. Now she turned away from all three men.
Leesil experienced a wave of pity followed by concern. He had many unanswered questions regarding Magiere, but those could wait until a better time. She was dealing with too much already in too short a space of time. They all were, for that matter. And as much as he wanted answers, he didn't want to see her pushed over the edge any further.
"You start, Leesil," she said softly. "Just tell him what you saw."
Leesil began recounting everything as clearly as possible. For the most part, it sounded like little more than a vicious thief interrupted during a botched robbery—except for the quarrel the beggar boy had pulled out of his own forehead. Strangely enough, Ellinwood did not react to this with more than a raised eyebrow. Then Leesil reached the part where Beth-rae ran in from the kitchen.
"She threw a bucket of water all over him, and he began to smoke."
"Smoke?" Ellinwood said, shifting his heavy weight to one foot. "What do you mean?"
"His skin turned black and began to smoke."
"Garlic water," Brenden interrupted. "It's poison to vampires."
The constable ignored him.
Leesil grew more suspicious. He still didn't accept the idea of vampires, and hadn't actually said or implied any such thing, yet the details were there. Ellinwood did not appear even slightly shocked, neither denying nor accepting Brenden's implied conclusion. Leesil held that thought to himself for the moment.
"Then what happened?" Ellinwood asked.
"He rushed her, struck her, tearing her throat with his fingernails, and breaking her neck," Leesil continued. "Then he escaped through the back door in the kitchen."
A few more questions and answers followed, all of a similar matter-of-fact and what-happened-next nature, each of which led to no further real exchange of useful information. The constable was casual, almost bored, and always slow to ask his next question. Somewhere along the way, Leesil noted that Ellinwood had not asked about any motivation for the intrusion. The concept of burglary or theft had not even come up. Not that it should have, since it was obviously not a burglary, but the constable hadn't even tried to pass it off as such. When Leesil described the intruder, he did note that Ellinwood fidgeted slightly before resettling into complacency.
It was then Leesil decided he would keep the issue of the dagger to himself. Ellinwood's