Page 91 of Dead & Breakfast
Trip blinked at the change in subject. “Why am I threatening you? Thought it was obvious; as soon as the cops get here, you’re toast. So you better start running now.”
“No—I mean why are you trying to kill your own son?”
At those words, Trip’s mouth turned down in disgust. “He’s no son of mine.”
The vehemence of the statement made Arthur take an involuntary step back. “You’d disown him? Why, because he does graffiti? He’s actually quite a talented artist, you know. Just because it’s done with spray paint doesn’t mean it’s not art.”
“Graffiti? Who kills someone over that?” Trip laughed derisively. Arthur would have laughed with him if not for the tension in the air. “You couldn’t begin to understand what’s going on here.”
“I don’t know, I figured out it was you who framed me for Brody’s attack, didn’t I?” Arthur gave him a cold smile. “Try me.”
“You’d really rather stand around waiting to get arrested?” Trip asked.
“I have all night,” Arthur said, a quiet calm coming over him. “I’m nocturnal, after all.”
“Don’t think I forgot for a moment what you are, bloodsucker.”
“That’s not very nice.” Arthur channeled his best embodiment of Salvatore. “I don’t call you a teeth-puller.”
Trip didn’t dignify that with a response. He just sneered, showing off his pearly whites.
Arthur pulled his shoulders back and fixed Dr.Young with what he hoped was a disarming look. “Come on. I’m as good as guilty, right? Satisfy the curiosity of your scapegoat, won’t you? Why hurt Brody?”
“Because he betrayed me.” Trip clenched his fists and stared past Arthur, to where Brody lay completely helpless. “He was going to turn me in.”
“Going to turn you in?” But he needn’t have asked. The final puzzle piece slotted into place, and suddenly the entire affair shifted in a way that allowed Arthur to see it all, every last grimdetail. Brody’s attack wasn’t the first time Trip Young had framed vampires for a crime.
“You called Brody to the park that night. You needed the truck to move the body.”
Trip didn’t confirm or deny, but Arthur could see it all over his face—the smugness, the security. He thought he’d gotten away with it.
If Arthur stepped aside, he surely would.
“What was the mayor doing in the park?” Arthur asked softly.
“We meet up there sometimes, to talk, have a few beers away from our families. We’re—we were friends.” Trip’s expression darkened. “Until he turned traitor, too.”
“You’re anti-paranormal,” Arthur said. The sign in Trip’s yard, supporting the mayor’s campaign. The very anti-paranormal platform Roth had run on. “But so was he—”
“Yeah, until a few dollar signs got involved.” Trip rolled his eyes. “That new city manager comes to sweet-talk George, saying she can boost tourism by leaning into the paranormal elements, and suddenly he’s talking about making Trident Falls more hospitable to your sort, about trying to attract more of you.”
Despite the danger of the situation, Arthur couldn’t help but feel proud of Nora. Even if it was all about economic gain, it was a real start. If she could bring the old mayor around to her way of thinking, maybe she really could help this town now that she had the job herself. Arthur just hoped he’d be around to see it in the end.
“He was going to accept Nora’s proposal, then.”
“He was going to turn his back on humanity.” Even in the low light, Arthur could see red creeping into Trip’s cheeks. “I met him in the park with a six-pack, hoping to blow off steam about my worst customer not even showing up for his nighttime appointment, even after I stayed open late just for him.” He gave Arthur a pointed look.
“I’d apologize for Sal, but I think we’re beyond that now.” Arthur shrugged. “What happened next?”
Trip clenched his jaw and continued. “George kept going on and on about all the money we could make if we pander to the paranormal-loving weirdos out there. Turn this place into a real tourist attraction, is what he said. More like a real freak show.” Trip shook his head. “That’s not why I donated to his campaign, you know.”
“Killing him seems a little extreme.”
“It was an accident,” Trip huffed. “I shoved him, he shoved back, I pushed hard, and he fell. Slammed his head into the corner of the bench. Our bench.” Pain flickered in Trip’s eyes—perhaps a symptom of guilt or regret—then he shook his head. “Whatever. I got Brody to bring the truck, and he was supposed to keep his mouth shut. But when he realized some so-called private detectives were snooping around, he got nervous. Didn’t want to take the fall for me if we got caught.”
“The second time you were more prepared,” Arthur said. “You got my dental impressions so it would be a match.”
“Yeah, first time I used a scalpel to make it look as good as I could. Drained the blood, dumped him near the only two bloodsuckers in town. Figured even McMartin couldn’t mess that up.”
