Page 55 of Dead & Breakfast

“We wait for him to toss his clothes.”

“What if Theo is so exhausted by everything he goes to sleepfully dressed?” Salvatore stepped out from behind the hedges, picking a few crunchy leaves from his hair.

“What kind of person sleeps in bloody clothes?” Arthur did not remove himself from their hiding place. After all, he was still hoping Theodore might exit once more to dispose of the evidence.

“I’m suggesting he might not be a murderer. I know you’re a little obsessed with him—”

“Am not,” Arthur snapped.

“You need to be ready for the very real possibility that no one attacked Brody Young over some silly graffiti.” Salvatore sighed and turned his attention to Arthur, leaning over and grooming him as well, not unlike a mama bird. He smoothed Arthur’s collar rather more intently than was necessary before adding, “Just keep an open mind.”

“I will consider all evidence fairly.” Arthur knew Salvatore had a point, but he wasn’t going to walk away from this now. If they snooped around and didn’t smell any blood, they’d leave and Arthur would cross Theodore off his suspect list.

Maybe.

The lights went off in Theodore’s house, and there’d been no sign of suspicious activity.

“Damn it!” Arthur shook his head in defeat. “Well, this was pointless.”

“Whoa, there.” Sal caught Arthur’s hands in his and frowned. “It’s not like you to give up so easily.”

“I thought you didn’t want me looking into Ted.”

“Theo.” Sal glanced at the house, windows as dark as the rest on the street. “If youreallythink he might be guilty, then we should do everything we can to make sure. One way or another.”

Arthur sighed and stepped out from behind the bushes.“Obviously I agree, but there’s nothing to be done about it. He’s gone to bed. Any evidence we might use is inside.”

A mischievous smile spread across Sal’s lips as he floated backward toward the werewolf’s house, arms waving in what Arthur could only assume was meant to be a come-hither dance.

It worked, as Arthur followed him. “What are you doing?”

“The evidence is inside, right? So…we go inside.”

Arthur stopped in his tracks at the base of the stairs leading up to the porch. “Absolutely not. Salvatore, you should know better.”

“You think I’m afraid of a little threshold?” He pointed to the door, a dark teal color with a brassy doorknob. “Child’s play.”

“Child’s play? Is that what you call it? I was there, Sal. I remember. You couldn’t so much as hover for weeks after you snuck in to Lady Grozdana’s rave.”

“Totally worth it.”

“You couldn’t even feed yourself.”

“She had those color-changing glow sticks.”

“You had to drink everything through a straw.”

“To be fair, straws are cool, and I still do that.”

“Salvatore!” Arthur stomped his foot, knowing he looked ridiculous and not caring.

Vampires didn’t often get sick, but crossing a threshold uninvited was a surefire way to knock one out of commission. Arthur had never tried it himself, but Salvatore had likened it to passing through an electric field of sorts. First, he’d felt immeasurable pain, then he’d felt numb, then he’d felt weaker than a baby. Salvatore’s usual dramatics paled in comparison to sick-day Sal. If not for witnessing the aftermath himself, Arthur might not have believed him.

“Not worth it? I suppose we could just go home and give up onsolving this mystery.” Salvatore took a step back down the stairs, but his eyes glinted with unspoken mischief.

“Or?” Arthur prompted, ascending the stairs one at a time.

“Or…we could try to get the invite.” Salvatore whipped out his phone and began typing.