Dead and Gone Page 0,70

refrigerator. Sure enough, there was a bottle of ReaLemon. "Now all I got to do is buy a water pistol at Wal-Mart," I said. "It's not summer, but surely they've got some over in the toy department."

"That works?"

"Yeah, a little-known supernatural fact. Just contact with it is fatal. I understand if it's ingested, the result's even quicker. If you could squirt it in a fairy's open mouth, that would be one dead fairy."

"Sounds like you're in big trouble, Sookie." Amelia had been reading, but now she laid her book on the table.

"Yeah, I am."

"You want to talk about it?"

"It's complicated. Hard to explain."

"I understand the definition of 'complicated.'"

"Sorry. Well, it might not be safe for you to learn the ins and outs of it. Can you help? Will your wards work against fairies?"

"I'll check my sources," Amelia said in that wise way she had when she didn't have a clue. "I'll call Octavia if I have to."

"I'd appreciate it. And if you need some kind of spell-casting ingredients, money is no object." I'd gotten a check in the mail that very morning from Sophie-Anne's estate. Mr. Cataliades had come through with the money she'd owed me. I was going to run it to the bank this afternoon, since the drive-through would be open.

Amelia took a deep breath, stalled. I waited. Since she's an exceptionally clear broadcaster, I knew what she wanted to talk about, but to keep our relationship on an even keel, I simply held out until she spoke out loud.

"I heard from Tray, who's got a couple friends on the police force - though not many - that Whit and Arlene are denying up and down that they killed Crystal. They ... Arlene says they planned on making you an example of what happens to people who hang around with the supernatural; that it was Crystal's death that gave them the idea."

My good mood evaporated. I felt a profound depression settle on my shoulders. Hearing this spoken out loud made it seem even more horrible. I could think of no comment to offer. "What does Tray hear about what might happen to them?" I said finally.

"Depends on whose bullet hit Agent Weiss. If it was Donny's - well, he's dead. Whit can say he was being shot at, so he shot back. He can say he didn't know anything about a plan to harm you. He was visiting his girlfriend and happened to have some pieces of wood in the back of his pickup."

"What about Helen Ellis?"

"She told Andy Bellefleur she just came to the trailer to pick up the kids because they'd done really well on their report cards, and she'd promised to take them to the Sonic for an ice cream treat. Any more than that, she doesn't know diddly squat." Amelia's face expressed extreme skepticism.

"So Arlene is the only one talking." I dried the baking sheet. I'd made biscuits that morning. Baking therapy, cheap and satisfying.

"Yeah, and she may recant any minute. She was real shaken up when she talked, but she'll wise up. Maybe too late. At least we can hope so."

I'd been right; Arlene was the weakest link. "She gotten a lawyer?"

"Yeah. She couldn't afford Sid Matt Lancaster, so she hired Melba Jennings."

"Good move," I said thoughtfully. Melba Jennings was only a couple of years older than me. She was the only African-American woman in Bon Temps who'd been to law school. She had a hard-as-nails facade and was confrontational in the extreme. Other lawyers had been known to take incredible detours to dodge Melba if they saw her coming. "Makes her look less of a bigot."

"I don't think it's going to fool anyone, but Melba's like a pit bull." Melba had been in Amelia's insurance agency on behalf of a couple of clients. "I better go make my bed," Amelia said, standing and stretching. "Hey, Tray and I are going to the movies in Clarice tonight. Want to come?"

"You've really been trying to include me on your dates. You're not getting bored with Tray already, I hope?"

"Not a bit," Amelia said, sounding faintly surprised. "In fact, I think he's great. Tray's buddy Drake has been pestering him, though. Drake's seen you in the bar, and he wants to get to know you."

"He a Were?"

"Just a guy. Thinks you're pretty."

"I don't do regular guys," I said, smiling. "It just doesn't work out very well." It "worked out" disastrously, as a matter of fact. Imagine knowing what your date thinks of you every single