Page 51 of Dead & Breakfast
“If only we could find him,” Salvatore whined. “We’ve been all over town, and Dr.Young has been absolutely no help, though you know how dentists are.”
“Huh.” Theodore sounded thoughtful. “When I was closing up the shop tonight, I saw Brody’s truck parked nearby.”
“How long ago was that?” Arthur asked, excitement lifting his spirits.
“Maybe half an hour?”
“We’ll check it out immediately, thank you—”
“I can help you look,” Theodore said, a note of smugness in his voice. “I’m pretty good at tracking people.”
Arthur suppressed a groan.
“That would be lovely. Toodles!” Salvatore hung up. “Well, that was easy. Shall we adjourn to the…street over yonder?”
Arthur let Salvatore link their arms together as they hurried in the direction of the Big Bad Brew. They didn’t encounter anyone else as they walked. Shops around Trident Falls tended to close early, and there wasn’t much nightlife to be had besides a few restaurants. Anyone interested in that made the drive to Portland or Bend on the weekends. A city was only a couple of hours away in either direction, but Arthur would sooner confess to murder than sit that long in a car.
They spotted the silver truck just up the road from the coffee shop, parked wonkily along the sidewalk. No one was inside. Brodymight still be nearby. Theodore wasn’t here yet, but Arthur wasn’t about to wait for him.
“We should split up, do a grid search—” But before Arthur could begin to put a plan in motion, the wind shifted. The scent of iron, sharp and strong, carried toward them. It wasn’t diluted like the blood at the park.
This was fresh.
Someone was bleeding, and they weren’t far.
“Is that what I think it is?” Salvatore sniffed the air, freezing for a moment, then snapping his head to stare behind the shop. “It’s coming from over there.”
Arthur turned, following Salvatore’s gaze. A darkened alley carved a path behind the coffee shop. In the light of day, Arthur had noticed the wall was covered in graffiti, but he couldn’t make anything out from this angle.
“Let’s go.”
“Good thing we left Rumble at home. I can’t bear the thought of bringing her into a dangerous situation like this,” Salvatore said softly.
“Be quiet,” Arthur hissed. “Whoever made this dangerous situation could hear you.” He glanced around for a weapon of some kind, but there was nothing but empty spray-paint cans lying around. He didn’t like to think of it, even with the prospect of a hostile murderer on the loose in Trident Falls, but he didn’t need a weapon, strictly speaking. His fangs would do in a pinch.
Arthur stepped as quietly as he could, every squeak of his shoes against the pavement like claws on a chalkboard. Behind him, Salvatore employed his vampiric flight to hover a few inches off the ground as they made their way down the empty side alley. They rounded the corner behind the coffee shop, revealing a longcorridor full of dumpsters and pallets leaning against the walls. The scent of fresh blood was overpowering, mingling with the faint chemical smell of spray paint.
A message was scrawled across the brick in white paint:Fur Fiend. Blue paint, still wet by Arthur’s estimation, had been inserted between the letters to change the message toFur Friend.
The particular shade stirred something in Arthur’s memory, but he didn’t have time to dwell. Below the freshly painted words, a pair of sneakers poked out from behind the nearest dumpster. Arthur rushed forward, Salvatore hovering right behind him.
A body lay propped against the wall, eyes closed, breath uneven. Blood pooled in the hollow of his throat, and on the side of his neck were two small puncture wounds.
It was Brody Young.
“Well,” Salvatore said dully. “This sucks.”
Chapter 14
“Walk me throughit again,” McMartin demanded.
Arthur sat at the table closest to the door of the Big Bad Brew, his eyes darting every few seconds to the unlitOpensign in the window. Salvatore sat beside him, uncharacteristically calm under the scrutiny of the sheriff. A deep scowl marred McMartin’s face and his usual glib air of superficiality was missing, like he’d finally realized this wasn’t just a movie script they were all acting out. This was real. A man was dead, and another life hung in the balance.
Minutes ago, paramedics had taken Brody Young to the ER. He’d been alive when they left, but Arthur had no new information beyond that. Not as if knowing would change anything. He and Salvatore had done all they could for Brody by calling for help when they’d found him unconscious and bleeding out. Now their act of civic duty was being rewarded with more suspicion than ever.
“We’ve told you three times already.” Arthur sighed and reached for Salvatore’s fingers beneath the table.
Salvatore squeezed Arthur’s hand and shifted in his seat, glowering at the sheriff. “Yes, perhaps you’d like us to record our statementfor you. That way, you can listen to it as often as you like—you know, I’ve been told my voice is rather soothing. You could use it as a sleep aid or meditation tape.”
