at his watch. Ari asked him about other possible enemies of the vampire, but he frowned and shrugged, looked at his watch again. She gave up and sent him back to work. The interview had been a bust, except for one small detail: the weapon had been missing before the bar crowd spilled into the parking lot. That meant none of them took it.
That brought her up against the same blank wall. Where had it gone? Someone else had to be involved. A different shooter or an accomplice. Whoever it was, Eddie was protecting him or her. But why? Fear for his own life, protecting a friend? Or was Eddie being paid for his silence? As for potential accomplices, Ari couldn’t imagine Eddie hiring someone to do the job for him, and if he had, why would Eddie be caught at the scene? Nothing about this made sense, including the fact this imaginary person had gotten away without being seen. Unless the killer wasn’t human, someone with supernatural speed. But why would Eddie cover for an Otherworlder?
* * *
When she called Shale & Associates to set up an appointment, the secretary said Shale wouldn’t be available until 2:00. That left sufficient time to speak with Mrs. West first.
Just after the lunch hour, Ari rang the doorbell. Thelma West invited her in, offered coffee, and they were soon seated in her cozy kitchen, complete with colorful towels and a rooster cookie jar. For a moment, Ari envied the normal household Eddie and Lorraine must have had, until she remembered the alcoholic father. The home didn’t reflect any of that disruption. The thought gave her a new perspective, a reminder that sometimes appearances were only surface deep. If Mrs. West could successfully hide that flaw in their lives, what else was hidden behind her motherly mask? Ari picked up her coffee cup. Maybe she was getting too cynical.
“Great coffee,” she said, after the first sip.
Mrs. West smiled. “Thank you. I wish I had something else to offer you, but I took the brownies to Lorraine’s. She’s having so many callers.”
Ari studied Eddie’s mother. The signs of a traditional lifestyle were written all over her and her tidy kitchen. The dark blue dress, nylons, and low-heeled pumps were conservative. Ari wondered if she even owned a pair of jeans. Tailored slacks, maybe, but no jeans. The faded auburn hair, turning gray around the temples, was styled in short, tight curls. The woman’s manner was gracious, and Ari assumed it rarely changed regardless of the provocation.
“This is fine. And I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to your daughter.”
The woman’s smile faltered, but she nodded.
Ari walked her through the typical questions, learning Mrs. West had been no more happy than Eddie about the bonding, but she expressed resignation with her daughter’s decision. Although Mrs. West’s voice remained calm throughout, her lips pinched in disapproval when she talked about Jules. It wasn’t until Ari asked about Eddie that his mother lost her composure.
“Do you think Eddie killed him?” Ari asked without warning.
Mrs. West’s mouth opened in distress. “No, no, of course not. Eddie’s not responsible. I don’t know why he said he was.” She didn’t sound as sure of her conclusion as Lorraine. More hopeful, maybe. Tears glistened in the woman’s face, and she clasped her hands in a tight knot, revealing how brittle the serene exterior was. “First Ed, then Lorraine, now Eddie.” Her chin trembled. “I’ve lost them all.”
Ari’s discomfort with this drama must have registered, because Mrs. West took a deep breath and her voice steadied. “Please excuse me. I shouldn’t be burdening you with all this. It’s been difficult. I guess I’m not myself.” She pulled up a vague smile from somewhere. “Of course, it’s not as bleak as that. Lorraine will be fine. She has good friends and family. We’ll help her. And Eddie will be proven innocent. I have to believe the justice system will work. Everything’s going to be fine.” She dabbed with a tissue as the tears started to slide down her cheeks.
Ari figured that was her cue to leave. The woman was too distraught for Ari to get much more information, and Ari wasn’t good with tears. Mrs. West’s emotional swings were more than she wanted to handle.
“It’s clearly hard for you to talk today. Perhaps we can reschedule in a day or two.”
“Yes, yes, that would be better. Thank you.” In another lightning switch, Mrs. West stood, whisked away the tears, and patted down her