Page 79 of Dead & Breakfast
“Wait!” Sal said, and relief surged through Arthur. But Sal only shoved the open umbrella into his hand. “Don’t need you getting skin cancer on top of everything.”
Arthur took the umbrella. “Goodbye, Salvatore.” They were two words he’d once thought he’d never say and truly mean.
He didn’t wait for Salvatore’s response. He headed back down the trail, toward Trident Falls. Toward the sheriff who wanted to arrest him. Toward answers.
Toward home.
Chapter 20
Though he washeaded for almost certain arrest, and he was going there alone, Arthur felt strangely lighter, like he was finally walking in the right direction. Funny how it was always easier to walk downhill. Perhaps there was something to the notion of fresh air and exercise being good for the mind, because as Arthur made the lonely hike back toward town, his thoughts finally gained traction.
His fangs were a match to Brody Young’s bite, which meant someone had set him up. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it before. It was just like when they’d tried to frame Sal by dumping the mayor’s body in their garden. Someone wanted the town to believe vampires—and specifically Arthur and Sal—were responsible for the attacks on the mayor and Brody. Arthur just had to figure out who.
The motive for killing George Roth still escaped him, but Brody’s attack felt simpler: silencing someone who knew too much. Perhaps Brody hadn’t killed the mayor at all, or if he had, he’d confided in someone who’d then helped him cover it up. Thesheriff was the most obvious suspect. The two had worked together before, and of course there was the matter of McMartin’s mystery alibi. Still, two things nagged at Arthur, or rather, two suspects.
Nora and Quinn. They’d been hiding things from him during his entire investigation. Perhaps it was time to use an age-old detective trick, something basically all fictional sleuths did at one point or another.
He’d have to trick them into confessing their involvement in all this.
Of course, that was easier said than done.
There was one pay phone left in Trident Falls. Keeping his umbrella low so as to hide his face, Arthur hurried to the spot on the edge of downtown where it cowered against the north side of an abandoned storefront. Thankfully, it was pretty far from the sheriff’s station, but Arthur wasn’t about to let his guard down just yet. He slotted the correct amount of change into it and dialed the number for the inn. He had to hope Nora would have the quick thinking to answer.
She didn’t.
Already, his plan was going to hell in a handbasket.
As the Iris Inn’s voicemail message played, Arthur weighed his options. He could hang up and cut his losses, or he could leave a message and hope the right person heard it.
“We hope to serve you well at the Iris Inn,” he heard his own voice say.
Then Sal’s crackled over the top, “Iris out!” before the beep sounded. Hearing his husband’s recorded words hurt more than Arthur expected, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
“Ah, yes, hello…uh…this is Arthur. Arthur Miller. No relation to the playwright, of course. Owner and proprietor of the Iris Inn. Hello? Nora? If you’re there, would you kindly—”
“Arthur?” Nora’s voice crackled. The pay phone truly was a relic of another time.
“Nora!”
“Is everything okay? I was just about to leave for the office.”
“Well…that is a simple question that has a complicated answer.” Arthur leaned against the pay phone, eliciting a creaking sound that was altogether not confidence inspiring. “Do you suppose you might meet me somewhere on your way into town?”
“Sure. The coffee shop?”
“Ah…I was hoping we might rendezvous somewhere less conspicuous.”
“Gotcha. How about the bait shop? It’s past the waterfront. It should be closed this time of year, so probably not a lot of traffic.”
“Perfect. See you soon.” Arthur hung up, gave the surrounding area a cursory glance for any watchful eyes, then headed south.
The bait shop was an old wooden building, only open during the peak of tourist season. It was technically part of Trident Falls, though it was a little past the welcome sign (which still readTrident Balls). In the shade of two interwoven willow trees was a rusted bench with patchy moss growing from cracks in the wood, but Arthur didn’t dare sit. The structural integrity of the bench aside, he had to be on alert, ready for anything.
Nora didn’t take long. She pulled up in a silver Honda Accord and flashed him a smile as she got out.
“I used to come here all the time as a kid.” Nora glanced up at the bait shop. “It’s seen better days, that’s for sure.”
She wasn’t wrong. Loose shingles hung from the roof by a thread, and the gutters were in desperate need of cleaning. Arthur itched to climb up and, at the very least, clear out the worst of the buildup. If not for his fear of collapsing buildings, he might have done just that.
