Club Dead - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,98
was the only person she knew who’d survived being staked, and then she asked me exactly how I’d killed Lorena, and there we were, back at my least favorite topic.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I admitted.
“Why not?” Pam was curious. “You say she was trying to kill you.”
“She was.”
“And after she had done that, she would have tortured Bill more, until he broke, and you would have been dead, and it all would have been for nothing.”
Pam had a point, a good one, and I tried to think about it as a practical step to have taken, rather than a desperate reflex.
“Bill and Eric will be here soon,” Pam said, looking at her watch.
“I wish you had told me that earlier,” I said, struggling to my feet.
“Got to brush your teeth and hair?” Pam was cheerfully sarcastic. “That’s why Eric thought you might need my help.”
“I think I can manage my own grooming, if you wouldn’t mind heating up some blood in the microwave—of course, for yourself as well. I’m sorry, I wasn’t being polite.”
Pam gave me a skeptical look, but trotted off to the kitchen without further comment. I listened for a minute to make sure she knew how to operate a microwave, and I heard reassuringly unhesitating beeps as she punched in the numbers and hit Start.
Slowly and painfully, I washed off in the sink, brushed my hair and teeth, and put on some silky pink pajamas and a matching robe and slippers. I wished I had the energy to dress, but I just couldn’t face underwear and socks and shoes.
There was no point putting on makeup over the bruises. There was no way I could cover them. In fact, I wondered why I’d gotten up from the couch to put myself through this much pain. I looked in the mirror and told myself I was an idiot to make any preparation for their arrival. I was just plain primping. Given my overall misery (mental and physical), my behavior was ridiculous. I was sorry I had felt the impulse, and even sorrier Pam had witnessed it.
But the first male caller I had was Bubba.
He was all decked out. The vampires of Jackson had enjoyed Bubba’s company, it was apparent. Bubba was wearing a red jumpsuit with rhinestones on it (I wasn’t too surprised one of the boy toys at the mansion had had one) complete with wide belt and half boots. Bubba looked good.
He didn’t seem pleased, though. He seemed apologetic. “Miss Sookie, I’m sorry I lost you last night,” he said right away. He brushed past Pam, who looked surprised. “I see something awful happened to you last night, and I wasn’t there to stop it like Eric told me to be. I was having a good time in Jackson, those guys there really know how to throw themselves a party.”
I had an idea, a blindingly simple idea. If I’d been in a comic strip, it would have shown itself as a lightning bolt over my head. “You’ve been watching me every night,” I said, as gently as I could, trying hard to keep all excitement out of my voice. “Right?”
“Yes’m, ever since Mr. Eric told me to.” He was standing straighter, his head full of carefully combed hair gelled into the familiar style. The guys at Russell’s mansion had really worked hard on him.
“So you were out there the night we came back from the club? The first night?”
“You bet, Miss Sookie.”
“Did you see anyone else outside the apartment?”
“I sure did.” He looked proud.
Oh, boy. “Was this a guy in gang leathers?”
He looked surprised. “Yes’m, it was that guy hurt you in the bar. I seen him when the doorman threw him out back. Some of his buddies came around back there, and they were talking about what had happened. So I knew he’d offended you. Mr. Eric said not to come up to you or him in public, so I didn’t. But I followed you back to the apartment, in that truck. Bet you didn’t even know I was in the back.”
“No, I sure didn’t know you were in the back of the pickup. That was real smart. Now tell me, when you saw the Were later, what was he doing?”
“He had picked the lock on the apartment door by the time I snuck up behind him. I just barely caught that sucker in time.”
“What did you do with him?” I smiled at Bubba.
“I broke his neck and stuffed him in the closet,”