Page 47 of Dead & Breakfast
Arthur cringed. Vampires didn’t have to worry about infectious diseases, but still. It wasn’t at all hygienic.
“Well, darling,” Salvatore said, eyes flicking up to meet Arthur’s as he approached. “Was it the dentist?”
“I don’t think so.” Arthur slumped beside Sal. It was harder to admit than he’d anticipated. Some part of him had been hoping it was the dentist. Then all this would be over and he and Sal could go back to running the inn and leading perfectly normal lives in Trident Falls.
Sal made a face. “Are you sure?”
There was always the chance Dr.Young was lying, of course, but Arthur couldn’t fathom the kind of man who would deflect suspicion onto his own son. As much as he wanted to be finished with the whole ordeal, Arthur knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Quite.” He sighed and showed Sal the handwritten list of names. “I do have a lead, though. Time to put your Internet stalking skills to good use.”
Brody’s friends weren’tterribly difficult to track down. A few of them were at the riverfront, revealed by something Salvatore called an Instagram Story. Arthur wasn’t sure why anyone would publicly post their location in real time, but he also didn’t know how they could all strap themselves inside cars and go over twenty-five miles an hour. It just wasn’t natural for a body to travel at such a speed.
Three teenagers sat on the wooden railing, ignoring the sign asking them not to do just that. They appeared to be taking photos with a medium-size dog whose sad brown eyes conveyed an air of weariness, though the dog’s tail was nevertheless wagging.
“Let me do the talking,” Salvatore whispered. Rumble was in hisarms, secure in her harness. She blinked her eyes slowly, seeming perfectly content with life now that her stomach was full of ice cream.
“Why would I do that?” Arthur asked indignantly. “I’m more familiar with the details of the case, and I’m the more adept detective.”
“Yes, but you’re not a very adept youth whisperer, are you?”
“I’m younger than you.”
“I just spent the last twenty minutes explaining how emojis work, but if you think you can be hip with the youths, be my guest. I’d love to see you try.”
Arthur grumbled but reluctantly agreed to let Salvatore take point this time.
As they approached, the dog made a break for it, wagging its tail with abandon. Arthur couldn’t help squatting to meet it and holding out his hand for it to sniff.
“Who’s this?” Arthur asked in a voice far higher pitched than he’d intended. He repeated himself in a lower, more natural register. “Who’s this?”
“This is Pancake,” one of the teenagers replied. “She’s super friendly, you can pet her.”
Pancake accepted Arthur’s scratches behind her ears as Salvatore spoke up.
“Wazzup?” Salvatore let out a horrifying sound, his mouth hanging wide like a broken window. “Peeps, we’ve got a little curly Q for you.”
Brody’s friends stared at him, one unblinking wall of judgment.
Arthur put his head in his hands. “Salvatore, why don’t you let me—”
Salvatore shook his shoulders and cocked his head, as though resetting to try again. “What’s the haps?”
“No.” The girl who’d introduced Pancake put up a hand. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m so sorry,” Arthur began, but Salvatore cut him off.
“No? What, am I not down with it?” He gasped, taking a step back. “Am Icheugy?”
“If this was 2021, sure.” A kid wearing purple-and-yellow-striped flannel rolled their eyes.
“Please, pay him no mind.” Arthur stepped in front of Salvatore and shot him a disgruntled look. “We just hoped you might be able to help us. Do you know Brody Young?”
“Yeah,” the girl said with a shrug just a smidge too conspicuous. The quick dart of her eyes from the dog to Arthur betrayed her ambivalence as a performance. “Why?”
“His father told us he was with you on Thursday night. Was he?” Arthur tried to sound casual, leveling his tone and keeping his hands busy scratching behind Pancake’s ears. It wouldn’t do to spook the teens with his line of questioning. He didn’t need them clamming up the way Quinn had.
Now the teens seemed to close ranks. “Who’s asking? Are you cops?” said a boy holding a basketball with the wordgoosespray-painted across the orange rubber.
