“I heard from Tray, who’s got a couple friends on the police force—though not many—that Whit and Arlene are denying up and down that they killed Crystal. They . . . Arlene says they planned on making you an example of what happens to people who hang around with the supernatural; that it was Crystal’s death that gave them the idea.”

My good mood evaporated. I felt a profound depression settle on my shoulders. Hearing this spoken out loud made it seem even more horrible. I could think of no comment to offer. “What does Tray hear about what might happen to them?” I said finally.

“Depends on whose bullet hit Agent Weiss. If it was Donny’s—well, he’s dead. Whit can say he was being shot at, so he shot back. He can say he didn’t know anything about a plan to harm you. He was visiting his girlfriend and happened to have some pieces of wood in the back of his pickup.”

“What about Helen Ellis?”

“She told Andy Bellefleur she just came to the trailer to pick up the kids because they’d done really well on their report cards, and she’d promised to take them to the Sonic for an ice cream treat. Any more than that, she doesn’t know diddly squat.” Amelia’s face expressed extreme skepticism.

“So Arlene is the only one talking.” I dried the baking sheet. I’d made biscuits that morning. Baking therapy, cheap and satisfying.

“Yeah, and she may recant any minute. She was real shaken up when she talked, but she’ll wise up. Maybe too late. At least we can hope so.”

I’d been right; Arlene was the weakest link. “She gotten a lawyer?”

“Yeah. She couldn’t afford Sid Matt Lancaster, so she hired Melba Jennings.”

“Good move,” I said thoughtfully. Melba Jennings was only a couple of years older than me. She was the only African-American woman in Bon Temps who’d been to law school. She had a hard-as-nails facade and was confrontational in the extreme. Other lawyers had been known to take incredible detours to dodge Melba if they saw her coming. “Makes her look less of a bigot.”

“I don’t think it’s going to fool anyone, but Melba’s like a pit bull.” Melba had been in Amelia’s insurance agency on behalf of a couple of clients. “I better go make my bed,” Amelia said, standing and stretching. “Hey, Tray and I are going to the movies in Clarice tonight. Want to come?”

“You’ve really been trying to include me on your dates. You’re not getting bored with Tray already, I hope?”

“Not a bit,” Amelia said, sounding faintly surprised. “In fact, I think he’s great. Tray’s buddy Drake has been pestering him, though. Drake’s seen you in the bar, and he wants to get to know you.”

“He a Were?”

“Just a guy. Thinks you’re pretty.”