But no one called.

They didn't know what to say.

Sid Matt Lancaster came about four-thirty.

Without any preliminary, he told me, "They've arrested him. For first-degree murder."

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Sid was regarding me with a shrewd expression on his mild face. His conser­vative black-framed glasses magnified his muddy brown eyes, and his jowls and sharp nose made him look a little like a bloodhound.

"What does he say?" I asked.

"He says that he was with Amy last night."

I sighed.

"He says they went to bed together, that he had been with Amy before. He says he hadn't seen Amy in a long time, that the last time they were together Amy was acting jealous about the other women he was seeing, really angry. So he was surprised when she approached him last night in Good Times. Jason says Amy acted funny all night, like she had an agenda he didn't know about. He remembers having sex with her, he remembers them lying in bed having a drink afterward, then he remembers nothing until he woke up in the hospital."

"He was set up," I said firmly, thinking I sounded exactly like a bad made-for-TV movie.

"Of course." Sid Mail's eyes were as steady and assured as if he'd been at Amy Burley's place last night. Hell, maybe he had.

"Listen, Sid Matt." I leaned forward and made him meet my eyes. "Even if I could somehow believe that Jason had killed Amy, and Dawn, and Maudette, I could never believe he would raise his finger to hurt my grandmother."

"All right, then." Sid Matt prepared to meet my thoughts, fair and square, his entire body proclaimed it. "Miss Sookie,

let's just assume for a minute that Jason did have some kind of involvement in those deaths. Perhaps, the police might think, your friend Bill Compton killed your grandmother since she was keeping you two apart."

I tried to give the appearance of considering this piece of idiocy. "Well, Sid Matt, my grandmother liked Bill, and she was pleased I was seeing him."

Until he put his game face back on, I saw stark disbelief in the lawyer's eyes. He wouldn't be at all happy if bis daughter was seeing a vampire. He couldn't imagine a re­sponsible parent being anything but appalled. And he couldn't imagine trying to convince a jury that my grand­mother had been pleased I was dating a guy who wasn't even alive, and furthermore was over a hundred years older than me.

Those were Sid Mart's thoughts. "Have you met Bill?" I asked.

He was taken aback. "No," he admitted. "You know, Miss Sookie, I'm not for this vampire stuff. I think it's taking a chink out of a wall we should keep built up, a wall between us and the so-called virus-infected. I think God intended that wall to be there, and I for one will hold up my section."

"The problem with that, Sid Matt, is that I personally was created straddling that wall." After a lifetime of keeping my mouth shut about my "gift," I found that if it would help Jason, I'd shake it in anybody's face.

"Well," Sid Matt said bravely, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his sharp nose, "I am sure the Good Lord gave you this problem I've heard about for a reason. You have to learn how to use it for his glory."

No one had ever quite put it that way. That was an idea to chew over when I had time.

"I've made us stray from the subject, I'm afraid, and I know your time is valuable." I gathered my thoughts. "I want Jason out on bail. There is nothing but circumstantial evi­dence tying him to Amy's murder, am I right?"

"He's admitted to being with the victim right before the murder, and the videotape, one of the cops hinted to me pretty strongly, shows your brother having sex with the victim. The time and date on the film indicate it was made in the hours before her death, if not minutes."

Damn Jason's peculiar bedroom preferences. "Jason doesn't drink much at all. He smelled of liquor in the truck. I think it was just spilled over him. I think a test will prove that. Maybe Amy gave him some narcotic in (he drink she fixed him."

"Why would she do that?"

"Because, like so many women, she was mad at Jason because she wanted him so much. My brother is able to date almost anyone he wants. No, I'm using that euphemism."

Sid Matt looked surprised I knew the word.

"He could go to bed with almost anyone he wanted. A dream life, most guys would think." Weariness descended on me like fog. "Now there he sits in the jail."

"You think another man did this to him? Framed him for this murder?"

"Yes, I do." I leaned forward, trying to persuade this skep­tical lawyer by the force of my own belief. "Someone en­vious of him. Someone who knows his schedule, who kills these women when Jason's off work. Someone who knows Jason had had sex with these gals. Someone who knows he likes to make tapes."

"Could be almost anyone," Jason's lawyer said practically.

"Yep," I said sadly. "Even if Jason was nice enough to keep quiet about exactly who he'd been with, all anyone'd have to do is see who he left a bar with at closing time. Just being observant, maybe having asked about the tapes on a visit to his house ..." My brother might be somewhat im­moral, but I didn't think he'd show those videos to anyone else. He might tell another man that he liked to make the videos, though. "So this man, whoever he is, made some kind of deal with Amy, knowing she was mad at Jason. Maybe he told her he was going to play a practical joke on Jason or something."

"Your brother's never been arrested before," Sid Matt ob­served.

"No." Though it had been a near thing, a couple of times, to hear Jason tell it. "No record, upstanding member of the community, steady job. There may be a chance I can get him out on bail. But if he runs, you'll lose everything."

It truly had never occurred to me that Jason might skip bail. I didn't know anything about arranging for bail, and I didn't know what I'd have to do, but I wanted Jason out of that jail. Somehow, staying in jail until the legal processes had been gone through before the trial... somehow, that would make him look guiltier.

"You find out about it and let me know what I have to do," I said. "In the meantime, can I go see him?" "He'd rather you didn't," Sid Matt said. That hurt dreadfully. "Why?" I asked, trying really hard not to tear up again.

"He's ashamed," said the lawyer. The thought of Jason feeling shame was fascinating. "So," I said, trying to move along, suddenly tired of this unsatisfactory meeting. "You'll call me when I can actually do something?"

Sid Matt nodded, his jowls trembling slightly with the movement. I made him uneasy. He sure was glad to be leav­ing me.

The lawyer drove off in his pickup, clapping a cowboy hat on his head when he was still in sight.

When it was full dark, I went out to check on Bubba. He was sitting under a pin oak, bottles of blood lined up beside him, empties on one side, fulls on the other.

I had a flashlight, and though I knew Bubba was there, it was still a shock to see him in the beam of light. I shook my head. Something really had gone wrong when Bubba "came over," no doubt about it. I was sincerely glad I couldn't read Bubba's thoughts. His eyes were crazy as hell.

"Hey, sugar," he said, his Southern accent as thick assyrup. "How you doing? You come to keep me company?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable," I said.

"Well, I could think of places I'd be more comfortable, but since you're Bill's girl, I ain't about to talk about them."

"Good," I said firmly.

"Any cats around here? I'm getting mighty tired of this bottled stuff."

"No cats. I'm sure Bill will be back soon, and then you can go home." I started back toward the house, not feeling comfortable enough in Bubba's presence to prolong the con­versation, if you could call it that. I wondered what thoughts Bubba had during his long watchful nights; I wondered if he remembered his past.