This is a thread between Sam Merlotte and Charles Aiden on the role playing site based on True Blood and the Southern Vampire Mysteries written by Charlaine Harris.
Disclaimer: We are an RPG fantasy and are in no way associated with Charlaine Harris or HBO and True Blood. Some of the names mentioned in this story are original characters found on our site.
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Nothing Out of the Ordinary
Charlie woke from the dream and immediately forgot it. He had been having more of them now. Day by day, night by night, getting more vivid and fragile. It was like gluing together pieces of a shattered glass. He no longer had the time or patience to sort through his subconscious to the point. He ignored them when he couldn't remember. When he could, he wrote them down. So far, he had twelve pages worth of dreams. Maya tapped on the glass of the black Lincoln town-car and Charlie opened the door, letting in the scolding light of the midday sun. Merlotte sat on a lot with trees of fenced in cider and sprucewood. The gravel-top itself was open to the sun and it seemed to be its home as the ground was almost incandescent in it's light. Charlie felt his skin boil just looking across the way to the side of the bar where the police tape had marked off the crossing for anyone going around the back. He got his umbrella from between the seats and popped it open before he stepped outside.
Sherriff Whitlock's predilections prevented her from joining the investigation, but Charlie could feel her presence in the competent and efficient police force. They took down statements and snapped lots of picture from high definition and low-quality camera alike. "The chief would want to see these. " was a mantra repeated at length. Charlie was comforted to hearing it. To his surprise, there was no dick measuring. He and Maya flashed his badge and they slip right thorough the line. Charlie went to the wall, Maya went to the door. Both took out their books and began to observe the scene.
The clothes hung on the wall like a carapace of a pinned butterfly. A bright sweat suit and high tops sneakers. A gold chain draped from the spot the chest used to be, that was pinned down by two carpentry nail and formed a V shaped on the spot where the chest used to be. The figure was portly and life, now a pear shaped figure cut from a black swatch. The ash was a fine sooty dust like camp-fire embers. They smell lightly of grave mud.
"Who's the owner of this place?"
"Uh...one Sam Merlotte."
"And when was the vic found?"
"Uni says around ten...maybe earlier."
"Damn."
Charlie looked amongst the trees, the sheriff's men, the people who stood at the peripheral. He looked at the grass kicked up from the trail and wondered if someone could drag another person from out the tree-line without being seen. He registered in his mind.
"Let's go talk to the owner."
Sam Merlotte was a handsome man with a bushy brow and soft, kind eyes. He smelled faintly of pine-wood and something else. Probably sink-water, Charlie didn't know. He and Maya had went inside and while Maya broke it down with the question, Charlie went around the bar and looked at the drinks. He moved around the space like a ghost. A pale figure in funeral black, arranging all the tables and chairs.
"So what time did you say you came in, Mr. Merlotte?" Maya asked.
Sam Merlotte was shaken as he sat in his office chair. This wasn't the morning he'd been expecting. It certainly wasn't where he wanted to be right now. Sure, he was getting more and more used to seeing dead bodies - from Maudette to Daphne, Rene and all the others - but it was his first dead vampire. It was nothing like a dead human, or were, or animal. It wasn't a body, really. It was like the body was flaking away.
The day had started like any other. Sam had woken up in his trailer just behind the bar and come to make sure that Terry Bellefleur, who cleaned the bar early in the morning, had been in. He'd almost walked past the body - if you could call it that. Sam was appalled. Who would do that at his bar? Maybe it had something to do with the man who'd tried to attack Amber and Neah.
But what really bothered Sam was that he hadn't heard it. He usually heard everything. But he hadn't heard Terry either, which is why he was out there that morning.
Sam's thoughts were broken as the two officers walked in. He wondered momentarily where Allison was, but then realized she wouldn't be out in the day unless she wanted to end up as burnt as the body he'd found.
Sam stood to offer his hand, but questioning began immediately. He knew that these were not Bon Temps police before him.
"I guess just before ten," Sam said. "My cleaning guy - Terry Bellfleur - sometimes he forgets to come in and clean before the lunch crowd gets here."
"Mmhmm " was what she said but what she thought was implaccable. Maya continued on. "So what did you do once you found the bod-...the dec-...the victim?"
Charlie picked up glasses from the bar. He found himself flummoxed by the arrangement of chairs and sought to perfect them. He went to the back where the pool table was one took down one of the cues and slowly bent it and struck it against the side of the tables and the put it back. He inspected the chalk, blew into it until find blue powder sprayed from it like a jeweled mist. He looked at the electronic juke box; a small gray panel hung upon the wall, and looked upon the track selection...all Trace Atkins and Garth Brooks. Not enough Waylon Jennings.
Why did he think that? Not enough Waylon Jennings.
Maya continued "Did you see any markings...any tire tracks...anything strange at all when you came in this morning? Anything out of the ordinary?"
The detective's face was like stone - Sam couldn't gauge what she thought. Surely he was suspect for this, and if they'd known his true nature it would have been doubly so. Weres and vampires didn't tend to get along, and if Sam had ever let his true feelings about vampires slip he might have been in more trouble.
But, luckily, Sam was an amiable guy and had opened his bar with open arms to all the local supes. He kept all sorts of synthetic blood on hand. His waitress was dating a vampire. No, there was nothing to suggest that Sam Merlotte didn't like vampires.
He shifted in his seat, glancing back to the woman. "Well, I didn't notice until I got to the back door what it was. I thought maybe there might be someone in the bar, so I checked the place out. It was clear."
Maybe that had been a bad thing to do, but the cops were notoriously useless and the supernatural community often handled its own. Had it been night, Sam would have called Bill or Eric to deal with things, but as it were he had to get the body out of there to open up the bar.
Sam shook his head at her next question. "We get a lot of trucks back here, I didn't see anything I could tell was fresh. The only weird thing was that I didn't hear Terry, my cleaning guy, come in this morning. That's why I got out here so early. Usually I hear his truck, but today I thought he forgot."
Sam didn't smell anything either. Which was odd. Usually he'd smell strangers that might have come through. He was curious though, about the other detective. While her head was turned, Sam craned forward to get a better view of him, but couldn't.
Maya shaded him, watched as Sam's eyes moved one way or another. Whatever Charlie was up to, Maya would prefer to let him work. She knew Charlie like a hand knows a glove. No doubt he was doing it just to discomfort the subject. Maya smiled at Sam and scribbled in her note-pad. She was almost done with her picture of a unicorn.
"Well, Mr. Merlotte do you have Terry's address on record? We'd like to talk to him, ask him some questions."
Her eyes went to the paper. Her pen made the smooth curve of its hunches and added a few strokes for the tuffs of hair along it's mane. Maya looked back up, was almost surprise to see Sam still sitting there.
"Oh, yeah. We're done for tonight. Here..." She produced a card and handed it to him. "Please, let us know if you remember anything- "
" I've been dreaming about black dogs lately. "
It was Charlie. He was across the other side of the room, approaching slowly. He smiled at Sam, eyes bright under black mirrored shades.
"You dream about dogs much, Mr. Merlotte? " He asked.
Sam quickly flipped through his address book until he found Terry Bellefleur's address and pushed the book across his desk. He got the feeling from her dismissive attitude that she was only keeping him occupied while her partner checked the place out. Well, he wouldn't find anything. Sam had searched the place high and low.
With how silent the crime had been done, Sam wondered if it wasn't vampire-on-vampire crime. After all, who else would go unnoticed? A human would be no match for a vampire, and a Were would probably make too much noise. He would have sensed a Were anyway.
He was puzzled and disturbed. Why Merlotte's? Why now? He wondered if it had anything to do with the guy who'd staked Neah. Maybe he should tell them about it - I mean the Fellowship of the Sun was an obvious suspect, but he wasn't sure how much these people knew about vampires. Sam was learning more and more each day. Sookie didn't tell him everything, but he probably knew more than most.
He was about to speak when the other detective returned and spoke. Sam was no good at hiding his emotions, and he could feel a twinge of shock go through his body. His brow narrowed a bit, and he hoped he looked more confused than concerned. Could he know? No, he couldn't possibly - Sam cut his thought short.
"I'm afraid I don't," he said. It was the truth. He dreamed as a dog. He was told he barked in his sleep. But he didn't dream about dogs. "I'm afraid I didn't get your name," he added, sticking out his hand toward the man. "Sam. Merlotte."
Charlie stared at Sam behind his mirror glasses, the way a man with a magnifying glasses peers into the scrawl of some obscure Sumerian text. His hand sailed up to mid-waist and without tearing his eyes away from Merlotte. Behind the black lenses, speckled pink eyes narrowed. He took in a deep breath thorough his nose and let it out thorough pursed lips, a pipping whistle to come along or something else entirely.
"Special Agent Charles Aiden," he said and dropped his hand.
Charlie looked up and looked around and looked at the bar and walked back behind it, behind Sam, as he noted the number of adult beverages on the wall and their stripe. He saw a refrigerator at the corner and bent and opened it and he took a bottle of Tru Blood and held it. He looked at Sam.
"Get a lot of vampires, Mr. Merlotte?" He said.
Special agent? Well, clearly then he was FBI. Of course they would have division dedicated to vampires - maybe even with vampires working. That made him feel a little bit better, but he wondered why here? Why this murder? Another thought crept into his head. Maybe he wasn't investigating vampires - but rather other supes. Maybe this was a way for Special Agent Charles Aiden to get a look into Sam's life. He hinted that he knew what he was, so it wouldn't surprise Sam.
But he pushed those thoughts aside. He'd be careful in what he said, but there was no alarming evidence around that Sam could turn into whatever animal he liked. It wasn't like vampires where there were coffins and bottled blood, or even dead humans to hide. No, to the unknowing eye, Sam Merlotte was just your average back-woods bar owner.
At his question, Sam nodded. He'd led the way for the vampire acceptance movement in the town of Bon Temps. Once Merlotte's let in vampires, other businesses thought it was safe too. Of course, their resident vampire, Bill Compton, helped the image. He was a southern gentleman who'd fought in the civil war - everything the town of Bon Temps lauded.
"Sure do," he said, leaning on the opposite side of the bar. Sam didn't want to hover, and besides he had nothing to hide. Not back there. The only thing of suspicion he had was an old baseball bat, but it wasn't exactly a stake.
"We get a few regulars and a few who come through in passing."
He wondered whether he should tell the agent about Neah and Amber. It was an odd incident, especially because it happened only days before a dead vampire fried on Sam's doorstep.
"Uh, we had an incident in here a few days ago that might be pertinent," he said, wringing his hands together. "Some man I didn't know tried to stake a vampire while she was at the bar. Another customer jumped in front of the stake and took the blow. He's alright though."
Sam didn't know just how much Charles knew about vampires and, well, he wasn't one to give away their secrets. He knew better. So he kept quiet about the healing.
"Unfortunately we were all too worried about the victim and nobody thought to detain the attacker," he added gruffly. He'd been disappointed then that Amber had let him get away, but now it was doubly so.
Charlie stopped and stared, bottle in his hand, hand over the cap. He looked to Maya and Maya turned to Merlotte.
" Did you report this to the police, Mr. Merlotte? " She said as Charlie twisted the cap.
He took a sip and recoiled. The blood tasted like the inside of a rusted can. He imagine it was what putting a battery to his tongue in liquid form. Bitter and acidic and electric all upon his tongue. He out the bottle down on the counter and withdrew a fiver from his wallet and threw it on the bar. He slipped around to the other side and stood to Maya's right and together they stared at Sam Merlotte.
" We're going to need the name of your vampire patrons. "
" And the people involved in the disturbance."
Sam was pretty sure that no one had to tell the agents that the Bon Temps police weren't particularly effective. Really, their main job was to round up drunk drivers and let them sober up in jail before they hit someone. Until recently, it had been a sleepy little town and that constituted most of the crime. There was the occasional car accident or break-in, but really the police didn't have much to do.
So it wasn't much of a surprise that Kevin and his partner Kenya had been hanging out in Merlotte's when the stabbing occurred. They were frequent patrons, especially when things were dead - which they often were. They'd been two of the first pairs of hands to wrestle the man down, but Amber had handled it from there. Sam wasn't sure if they'd taken the time to file a police report, but he doubted it. If Amber had wanted justice, she would have had it right then and there and no one would have been able to stop her.
Sam shrugged. "Two officers were in the bar at the time. They didn't speak to me, so I thought if they saw it necessary to file a report, they would," he said a bit dismissively. He was becoming far too accustomed to all of the odd things going on in Bon Temps lately, and that was bothersome. Usually he liked things quiet. He was content with his small-town life and avoiding more drama was high on his list. Of course that might mean firing Sookie and never speaking to her again, but he'd never do that. He'd take all the bad for the pleasure of having her nearby.
He realized that he should have called her. She might know the vampire, but then again he didn't want to drag her into this. Bill probably wouldn't want her dragged into it either. And well, Sam really didn't want a fight with Bill. It wouldn't be something he'd win, that was for sure.
"The vampire, Amber...Thornrose? I think. Anyway, she had plenty of opportunity to detain the guy, but she let him go. Neah Walker is the man who was stabbed, and the officers are Kevin and Kenya. As for the witnesses, well, if you hang around until lunch they'll all be back," Sam said, glancing at both agents. "Maybe the officers didn't feel it was necessary to file a report. The vampires tend to do their own policing."
And, again, Sam wondered why this was an FBI matter. He was sure there was some unspoken rule that the vampires got to handle crimes against them. Maybe that had changed.
"With that said, are you guys daytime investigators for the vampires?" he asked. He was pretty sure once night came, Eric and Bill along with others would want to check out the scene. "Won't the local vampire government want to do their own investigation? Or are you working for them?"
Maybe he'd said too much. Sookie told him a lot, and he wondered now if he would regret letting onto just how much he knew about vampires.
Charlie and Maya shared a long look, between them which passed nothing but their intense gaze. As if connected by some mental bridge, their eyes shifted around and there was the vague hinting of an internal nod from the both of them. Maya broke this communiqué first, dropping her gaze to the notepad in her head and penciling in a little note in the margins.
Charlie slipped his gloves hands into the wide pockets of his overcoat. " That'll be all, Mr. Merlotte. Thank you for your time. " Charlie turned away and as he did he watched as Maya holstered her pad and began to follow him out. From the door she stopped and turned and looked at Sam.
"Don't start cleaning up the victim off the wall until you talked to the M.E. They should be done by lunch."
The bell jangled above the door as Maya and Charlie walked out.
The sun was hoisted up into the clear blue sky and beat a hard and heavy haze into the gravel below. Charlie stood fiddling with his umbrella under the shade of the awing, saying nothing. Maya stood next to him and reached into her pockets for her smoke.
"It's a lot to parse thorough. I thought this was gonna be simple. "
Charlie straightened one of the stretchers and then slipped his hand under the runner, caught the edge of the top-spring with a click and opened up, hitting the top of the roof.
" You know how these things are, My'. Never what they appeared to be. " He waited until Maya lit the end of her cigarette before he stepped out into the sun. They walked to the car together, silently selling themselves of what they learned, feeling equally dumb-founded by jumbled puzzle in front of them. Almost as if catching himself in a snare, Charlie stopped suddenly and turned around.
"What? " Maya said after him but Charlie didn't answer. He slipped under the yellow tape and crossed to where the M.E. was packing up. They looked up, a bit thrown off by his suddenness and watched without word as he stood in front of the remains and looked up.
As Maya came, he handed off his umbrella blindly to one of the techs
"What is it, Chuck? "She said "What's on your mind?"
Charlie stood facing the wall and then he turned and hovered his back over it. He stood on his toes, trying to imitate the dangling feet the victim have. He looked at his hands. The right one laid flat, fingers fanned where the rail-spike had traverse just above the wrist keeping it paralyze. He tried the same with the left but found that he had two fingers too much for an exact match. He halved his index and middle and laid it against the wall, matching the silhouette perfectly.
He held the fingers up and looked them up in the half light between the umbrella and the sunlight.
"Dead man fingers..." He whispered.
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