Page 40 of Dead & Breakfast
“A pity.” Salvatore tutted under his breath. “Such a loss.”
“I thought you didn’t like the mayor.”
“I don’t—didn’t. I was talking about all that blood. Why waste it like that?”
Rumble hovered behind Salvatore’s legs, as if afraid to approach. They stayed a few yards away.
“Well, Sal,” Arthur said. “Thank god you’ve got that fancy phone. I suppose you won’t mind calling the sheriff’s office with it?”
Salvatore pouted. “Can’t believe I’m being betrayed both by my own husband and by the very technology I hold dear.”
Arthur shoved away his discomfort at the knowledge that the sheriff would soon arrive with all his pointed questions and his prejudice. If it was indeed the mayor’s blood, this was quite the break in the case, because it would prove the mayor wasn’t killed at the Iris Inn at all.
Chapter 11
The pleasant weatherwas almost enough to compensate for Sheriff McMartin’s odious presence.Almost.
“Get that stupid cat away from my crime scene,” McMartin snapped, shooing Rumble away from the bloodstain.
She scurried behind Salvatore’s legs, her face peeking out from behind his powder-blue oxfords with an expression of disgust. Even Arthur ruffled at the sheriff’s words. There was no need to be rude to her. She was only a cat. He’d not forgotten their tenuous position, however, so he bit back a retort and let the sheriff work.
His work, as it turned out, was barking orders at his deputies as they did what he calledsetting up a perimeter, which involved a lot of yellow police tape and foul language. Lore arrived not long after, and Arthur’s shoulders relaxed at the sight of a friendly face, even though she feigned neutrality whenever McMartin was watching.
“Someone lost a lot of blood here, all right.” Lore crouched to examine the grass and pulled out her dayglow dolphin notebook to jot something down. “I’ll send these samples to the lab, but unlesssomeone decided the park was a good place to slaughter a pig, I’m guessing it’ll be a match for Mayor Roth.”
McMartin crossed his arms. “I bet it will. Just what the vamps want.” He turned to scowl at Arthur and Salvatore.
“Sorry,” Salvatore said, holding up a hand in protest. “Do you mean to imply we…what, murdered the mayor, saved a bunch of his blood, and then dumped it here? That would be awfully clever of us.”
Arthur covered his sunglasses with the hand not holding his umbrella. McMartin’s brightness began and ended with his highlighter-yellow frosted tips, so Arthur very much doubted the sheriff would have come up with an explanation half so compelling as the one Salvatore had delivered on a silver platter.
“Real convenient, you two finding this alleged crime scene.”
“There’s nothing alleged about it,” Arthur said stiffly. “And we found it because we smelled the blood. It’s hard for someone like us to miss.”
“No way,” McMartin said. “You did this. I know you did. He practically confessed!” He pointed a finger at Salvatore and looked around with eager eyes. Alas, most of his deputies were actually doing their jobs, so he had no captive audience for his theatrics.
Recoiling in mock offense, Salvatore pressed a hand to his chest. “Who, me?”
“It wasn’t us,” Arthur said with a sigh.
“Yeah? Prove it.”
Arthur was about to point out that proving it was exactly what he was attempting to do, but Salvatore spoke first.
“Well, for starters, how were we supposed to transport a bunch of blood through a crowded park?”
McMartin cast his gaze around, as if looking for a growler orthermos hidden in the bushes. “You’re vampires—maybe you don’t need a container.” His eyes dropped to Salvatore’s throat and he grimaced.
Salvatore burst into laughter. “We’re not mama birds, you know. We don’t regurgitate blood to feed our young.”
McMartin straightened. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Please,” Salvatore said dismissively. “Vomiting up blood is possibly the worst experience I’ve ever had—food poisoning.”
“I didn’t realize vampires could get food poisoning,” Lore said as she prodded the bloodstained soil with gloved hands.
“They can if their meal is wearing toxic perfume. White oleander is an awful plant, let me tell you—”
