“And then?”
His big blue eyes narrowed as he stared at me.
“Why, if we can produce proof of the crime, we’ll turn the culprit over to the police,” he said smoothly.
Liar, liar, pants on fire. “I’ll make a deal, Eric,” I said, not bothering to smile. Winsome did not count with Eric, and he was far from any desire to jump my bones. At the moment.
He smiled, indulgently. “What would that be, Sookie?”
“If you really do turn the guilty person over to the police, I’ll do this for you again, whenever you want.”
Eric cocked an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I know I’d probably have to anyway. But isn’t it better if I come willing, if we have good faith with each other?” I broke into a sweat. I could not believe I was bargaining with a vampire.
Eric actually seemed to be thinking that over. And suddenly, I was in his thoughts. He was thinking he could make me do what he wanted, anywhere, anytime, just by threatening Bill or some human I loved. But he wanted to mainstream, to keep as legal as he could, to keep his relations with humans aboveboard, or at least as aboveboard as vampire–human dealings could be. He didn’t want to kill anyone if he didn’t have to.
It was like suddenly being plunged into a pit of snakes, cold snakes, lethal snakes. It was only a flash, a slice of his mind, sort of, but it left me facing a whole new reality.
“Besides,” I said quickly, before he could see I’d been inside his head, “how sure are you that the thief is a human?”
Pam and Long Shadow both moved suddenly, but Eric flooded the room with his presence, commanding them to be still.
“That’s an interesting idea,” he said. “Pam and Long Shadow are my partners in this bar, and if none of the humans is guilty, I guess we’ll have to look at them.”
“Just a thought,” I said meekly, and Eric looked at me with the glacial blue eyes of a being who hardly remembers what humanity was like.
“Start now, with this man,” he commanded.
I knelt by Bruce’s chair, trying to decide how to proceed. I’d never tried to formalize something that was pretty chancy. Touching would help; direct contact clarified the transmission, so to speak. I took Bruce’s hand, found that too personal （and too sweaty） and pushed back his coat cuff. I took hold of his wrist. I looked into his small eyes.
I didn’t take the money, who took it, what crazy fool would put us in danger like this, what will Lillian do if they kill me, and Bobby and Heather, why did I work for vampires anyway, it’s sheer greed, and I’m paying for it, God I’ll never work for these things again how can this crazy woman find out who took the fucking money why doesn’t she let go of me what is she is she a vampire, too, or some kind of demon her eyes are so strange I should have found out earlier that the money was missing and found out who took it before I even said anything to Eric . . .
“Did you take the money?” I breathed, though I was sure I already knew the answer.
“No,” Bruce groaned, sweat running down his face, and his thoughts, his reaction to the question, confirmed what I’d heard already.
“Do you know who did?”
“I wish.”
I stood, turned to Eric, shook my head. “Not this guy,” I said.
Pam escorted poor Bruce out, brought the next interrogee.
My subject was a barmaid, dressed in trailing black with lots of cleavage on display, her ragged strawberry blond hair straggling down her back. Of course, working at Fangtasia would be a dream job for a fang-banger, and this gal had the scars to prove she enjoyed her perks. She was confident enough to grin at Eric, foolish enough to take the wooden chair with some confidence, even crossing her legs like Sharon Stone—she hoped. She was surprised to see a strange vampire and a new woman in the room, and not pleased by my presence, though Bill made her lick her lips.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said to Eric, and I decided she must have no imagination at all.
“Ginger, answer this woman’s questions,” Eric said. His voice was like a stone wall, flat and implacable.
Ginger seemed to understand for the first time that this was a time to be serious. She crossed her ankles this time, sat with her hands on the tops of her thighs, and assumed a stern face. “Yes, master,” she said, and I thought I was going to barf.
She waved an imperious hand at me, as if to say, “Begin, fellow vampire server.” I reached down for her wrist, and she flung my hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she said, almost hissing.