She paused with the graceful curve of the cup poised right at her mouth. Her eyes went hawk-sharp at that question. “Are you accusing me of something, Delaney?”
“No.” I rubbed at my forehead, stared at the floor a second, then back at her. “I’m not accusing you. I’ve just never dealt with something this...big before. Vampires don’t just show up murdered in this town. I’m not sure that it’s ever happened before.”
“It hasn’t.”
“The whole thing has me on edge. I’m new to this position.” I pointed at my chest, just over my heart. “Bridging power for the gods is one thing. Police chief is another. And this death is going to bring too much attention to our little town.”
“No one has to know about it. He was a vampire, dear. He didn’t have family outside Ordinary.”
“Apocalypse Pablo already knows about the body.”
“One mortal can be easily convinced not to remember what he saw. Old Rossi should have already taken care of that by now, actually.”
Vampires and their mind-suggestion power. It should be against the law.
“Ryder knows too.”
She raised one eyebrow and sipped tea. Apparently, her previous suggestion stood for Ryder too.
Yes, I understood that Ryder was just as mortal as Apocalypse Pablo or me...well, maybe a little more than me, but I hated the thought of stealing away his memories just because we could.
“That won’t really solve the problem.”
“The problem of the outside world finding out about Sven?”
“The problem of who killed him.”
“You are sure it was murder?”
“Yes.”
“None of the Wolfes have been brought in to question?”
The Wolfes were a big extended family of werewolves that owned the rock quarry in town, among other things. Granny Wolfe had made a truce with the Rossis years ago. The terms of the truce were that they’d both keep the murdering of respective family members to a minimum.
“I haven’t checked in with them yet. But I will. Have you heard anything concrete that would make you think they took out Sven?”
“No. Nothing at all.” She frowned a little. “How was he killed and where was he found?”
I figured she already knew this information. “Bullet through the head. The shed outside Joe Boy’s gas station.”
She sipped, her eyes focused somewhere else as she thought that over.
“What kind of bullet?”
“Silver.”
She blinked, then shook her head slightly. “I was asking about the caliber, but silver is also interesting. Several of the Wolfes carry guns.”
“Several of everyone in town carries guns.”
“What did Rossi say?”
I stood, winced a little at my stiff back and scowled at my bed. I hadn’t been asleep long enough to get a crick in my back. “Rossi is not pleased.”
“But he’s taking care of it, is that correct?”
“It’s not something he can take care of, Bertie.” At her look, I continued. “Not something that he alone can take care of. Someone killed Sven. Murder is against the law. Mortal law, which is the law we follow in this town, the law I enforce. Someone in town committed murder. I’m going to find them, arrest them, and lock them away for life.”
“What if it’s not a mortal?”
“I’m worried at how much you’re insisting it might be a werewolf. Did the Wolfes do something to bother you? Forget to fill out their volunteer forms for the next festival? Laugh at your Cakes on Skates idea? Overcharge you for gravel in your driveway?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said primly. “My driveway is clay pavers.”
“If it is someone in the Wolfe family, then that’s up to Rossi to deal with, since they have laws in place between their kind,” I said. “If it’s a mortal, or any other creature in town, then that’s on me and the law.”
“And if it’s a god?” She watched me over her cup, golden fingernails gleaming in the low light coming through the windows.
“If it’s a god, then I’ll deal with that too. Just like my fathers and mothers before me.”
“You think you can handle a rogue god?”
“I think there isn’t anyone else around here who could handle it better than me.”
She sipped tea, the last of it, from how deeply she tipped the cup.
“Well, then. Since you have god powers to track down and a killer to find, I’ll be on my way and let you do your work.” She stood and started toward my bedroom door. “I don’t know who killed him, Delaney. That is beyond my knowing. I do know he wasn’t killed in Ordinary.”
“What? Wait. How?”
“Because that is within my knowing. Every death that happens on this soil, I will know.” She shrugged. “Mostly the gods, but I am old enough and have been here long enough that I’ve developed a sense of when mortals and creatures die too.”
“And Sven wasn’t murdered here?”
“No.”
“Do you know where he was killed?”
“No.”
“Does Rossi know Sven wasn’t killed in town?”
“Do you think anyone could be quick enough to kill one of his before he was there to stop them?”
Vampires were not slow.
“No.”
I chewed on that information. If Sven hadn’t been killed in town, I’d need to find out when he left and where he went. Unlike the vacationing deities who were on a pretty tight leash went it came to walkabouts, creatures could and did wander the world at their leisure and pleasure.
If Bertie was right, and Sven had been killed outside of Ordinary, then why had he been found in the shed inside town? Yes, it was on the outermost northern edge of town, and a person wouldn’t have to drive more than half a mile to be officially out of town, but either someone had brought him back or he had somehow gotten that far on his own.
Rossi said the ichor techne was an invitation, which would mean someone had dropped off Sven’s dead body. Dead before he was even inside of Ordinary again.
Another reason Rossi was so angry. Since all the vampires seemed to be able to speak with each other thought-to-thought, he would have known where Sven was, might even have heard his last thoughts.
I’d need to talk to him to find out exactly how the telepathy worked, and what rules and restrictions he enforced. There might be other details that he or another vampire could give me, clues that could lead to the killer.
“Yes, then,” Bertie said into what I realized was a long span of silence. “I’ll leave you to your busy day.”
“Thank you, Bertie.”
“Thank you for giving ten hours of volunteer time for the Cake and Skate.”
“Eight hours.”
“Excuse me?”
“We agreed to eight hours each. Jean told me.”
“Oh,” she said with a playful glint in her eyes. “I must have remembered incorrectly. Thank you for eight hours.” She gave me a quick smile and I knew the next time we spoke she’d accidentally forget again.
“When is it, again?”
“Saturday. Starts at eight in the morning. I’ll expect to see you at the Puffin Muffin bright and early.”
Bertie was nothing if not persistent.
“Coffee’s free for volunteers, right?”
“So is the cocoa and marshmallows.”
Like I was a child.
“Fine.” I padded across the floor to the bathroom. “I’ll be there. But I’m not skating.”