Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [374]
“Was she supposed to open the shop today?” Alcide asked.
“No, Wednesday’s our closed day, but she always goes in to work on the books and get paperwork out of the way. She always does,” Verena repeated.
“Why don’t Alcide and I drive over there and check the shop for you?” I said gently. “Maybe she left a note.” This was not a woman you patted on the arm, so I didn’t make that natural gesture, but I did push the glass door shut so she’d understand she had to stay there and she shouldn’t come with us. She understood all too clearly.
Verena Rose’s Bridal and Formal Shop was located in an old home on a block of similarly converted two-story houses. The building had been renovated and maintained as beautifully as the Yancys’ residence, and I wasn’t surprised it had such cachet. The white-painted brick, the dark green shutters, the glossy black ironwork of the railings on the steps, and the brass details on the door all spoke of elegance and attention to detail. I could see that if you had aspirations to class, this is where you’d come to get your wedding gear.
Set a little back from the street, with parking behind the store, the building featured one large bay window in front. In this window stood a faceless mannequin wearing a shining brown wig. Her arms were gracefully bent to hold a stunning bouquet. Even from the truck, I could see that the bridal dress, with its long embroidered train, was absolutely spectacular.
We parked in the driveway without pulling around back, and I jumped out of the pickup. Together we took the brick sidewalk that led from the drive to the front door, and as we got closer, Alcide cursed. For a moment, I imagined some kind of bug infestation had gotten into the store window and landed on the snowy dress. But after that moment, I knew the dark flecks were surely spatters of blood.
The blood had sprayed onto the white brocade and dried there. It was as if the mannequin had been wounded, and for a crazy second I wondered. I’d seen a lot of impossible things in the past few months.
“Adabelle,” Alcide said, as if he was praying.
We were standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front porch, staring into the bay window. The CLOSED sign was hanging in the middle of the glass oval inset in the door, and venetian blinds were closed behind it. There were no live brainwaves emanating from that house. I had taken the time to check. I’d discovered, the hard way, that checking was a good idea.
“Dead things,” Alcide said, his face raised to the cold breeze, his eyes shut to help him concentrate. “Dead things inside and out.”
I took hold of the curved ironwork handrail with my left hand and went up one step. I glanced around. My eyes came to rest on something in the flowerbed under the bay window, something pale that stood out against the pine bark mulch. I nudged Alcide, and I pointed silently with my free right hand.
Lying by a pruned-back azalea, there was another hand—an unattached extra. I felt a shudder run through Alcide’s body as he comprehended what he saw. There was that moment when you tried to recognize it as anything but what it was.
“Wait here,” Alcide said, his voice thick and hoarse.
That was just fine with me.
But when he opened the unlocked front door to enter the shop, I saw what lay on the floor just beyond. I had to swallow a scream.
It was lucky Alcide had his cell phone. He called Colonel Flood, told him what had happened, and asked him to go over to Mrs. Yancy’s house. Then he called the police. There was just no way around it. This was a busy area, and there was a good chance someone had noticed us going to the front door.
It was surely a day for finding bodies—for me, and for the Shreveport police department. I knew there were some vampire cops on the force, but of course the vamps had to work the night shift, so we spoke to regular old human cops.