I patted Jane on the shoulder, but I’m afraid I wasn’t really thinking about her. I was wondering what Mel had done to deserve his exile to a duplex in Bon Temps. If it had been me, I would have been happy to be rid of the multiple ties of kinship and the microscopic hierarchy of the little cluster of houses huddled around the old crossroads, but I could tell that wasn’t the way Mel felt about it.

Mel’s ex-wife had a margarita in Merlotte’s from time to time. I thought I might do a little research on my brother’s new buddy the next time Ginjer dropped by.

Sam asked me a couple of times if I was okay, and I was surprised by the strength of my desire to talk to him about everything that had happened lately. I was astonished to realize how often I confided in Sam, how much he knew about my secret life. But I knew that Sam had enough on his plate right now. He was on the phone with his sister and his brother several times during the evening, which was really unusual for him. He looked harassed and worried, and it would be selfish to add to that load of worry.

The cell phone in my apron pocket vibrated a couple of times, and when I had a free moment, I ducked into the ladies’ room and checked my text messages. One from Eric. “Protection coming,” it said. That was good. There was another message, and this one was from Alcide Herveaux, the Shreveport pack leader. “Tray called. Trouble Ur way?” it read. “We owe U.”

My chances of survival had risen considerably, and I felt much more cheerful as I finished out my shift.

It was good to have stockpiled favors with both vampires and werewolves. Maybe all the shit I’d gone through last fall would prove to have been worth it after all.

All in all, though, I had to say my project for the evening had been a washout. Sure, after asking Sam for permission, I’d filled both the plastic water guns with juice from the lemons in the refrigerator (intended for iced tea). I thought maybe real lemons would somehow be more potent than the bottled lemon juice at home. So I felt a little safer, but the sum total of my knowledge about the death of Crystal had not increased by one fact. Either the murderers hadn’t come in the bar, weren’t fretting over the evil thing they’d done, or weren’t thinking about it at the moment I was looking inside their heads. Or, I thought, all of the above.

Chapter 15

Chapter 15