Edward was at the stove, emptying a pan of scrambled eggs onto two plates, He was also wearing black jeans with matching cowboy boots, and a white shirt that was a twin of the one he'd worn yesterday.
"Gee, guys, do I have to go back to my room and change?"
They all looked at me, even Olaf. "What you're wearing is fine," Edward said. He carried the plates to the table and put one in front of each of the empty chairs. There was a plate of bacon in the center of the table beside the flowers.
"But I don't match," I said.
Edward and Bernardo smiled. Olaf didn't. Big surprise. "You guys look like you're in uniform," I said.
"I guess we do," Edward said. He sat down in one of the empty chairs.
I sat in the other one. "You should have told me there was a dress code."
"We didn't do it on purpose," Bernardo said.
I nodded. "Which is what makes it funny."
"I am not changing clothes," Olaf said.
"No one's asking you to," I said. "I was making an observation." My eggs had bits of green and red things in them. "What's in the eggs?"
"Green peppers, red chilies, and diced ham," Edward said.
"Gee, Edward, you shouldn't have." I liked my scrambled eggs the way God intended them, plain. I pushed the eggs around with my fork, and reached for the bacon. Half the plate was barely cooked, the other half done to a crisp. I went for the crisp.
The bacon on Olaf's plate was the crispy kind, too. Oh, well.
I said grace over the food. Edward kept eating, but the others hesitated, uncomfortable with their mouths full. It's always fun to say grace at a table with people who don't. That uncomfortable silence. The panic while they wonder whether to keep chewing or to stop. I finished praying and took a bite of bacon. Yum. "What's the game plan for today?" I asked.
"You haven't finished looking at the files," Edward said.
Bernardo groaned.
"I think it is a waste of time," Olaf said. "We have gone over the files. I do not believe that she will find anything new."
"She's already done that," Edward said.
Olaf looked at him, a piece of bacon half way to his mouth. "What do you mean?"
Edward told them.
"That is nothing," Olaf said.
"It's more than you came up with," Edward said, quietly.
"If I am such a burden on this job, maybe I should leave," Olaf said.
"If you can't work with Anita, maybe you should."
Olaf stared at him. "You would rather have her as backup instead of me?" He sounded astonished.
"Yes," Edward said.
"I could break her in half over my knee," Olaf said. The astonishment was turning to anger. I suspected that most emotions turned into anger for Olaf.
"Maybe," Edward said, "but I doubt she'd give you the chance."
I held up my hand. "Don't make this a competition, Edward."
Olaf turned to me, slowly. He spoke very slowly, very clearly. "I do not compete with women."
"Afraid you can't measure up?" I asked. The moment I said it, I wished I hadn't. The momentary satisfaction wasn't worth the look on his face as he rose from his chair. I leaned into the table and drew the Firestar, pointing it in his general direction under the table.
Olaf stood, looming over me, like a muscular tree. "Edward has spent the morning talking to me about you. Trying to convince me that you are worth listening to." He shook his head. "You are a witch and I am not. The thing we hunt may be magical and we need your expertise. Maybe this is all true, but I will not be insulted by you."
"You're right," I said, "I'm sorry. It was a cheap shot."
He blinked at me. "You are apologizing?"
"Yes, on the rare, rare occasions when I'm wrong, I can apologize."
Edward was staring at me across the table.
"What?" I asked.
He just shook his head. "Nothing."
"Olaf's hatred of women is sort of a handicap, and I try not to make fun of people with handicaps."
Edward closed his eyes and shook his head. "You just couldn't leave it alone, could you?"
"I am not a cripple."
"If you hate anyone or anything with an unreasoning, uncompromising hatred, then you are blind where that hatred is concerned. The police kicked me out of a crime scene yesterday because the cop in charge is a right-winger squeaky-clean Christian, and he considers me devil spawn. So he'd rather more people get killed and mutilated than have me help him solve the case. He hates me more than he wants to catch this monster."
Olaf was still standing, but some of the tension had drained way. He seemed to actually be listening to me.
"Do you hate women more than you want to catch this monster?"
He looked at me, and for once his eyes weren't angry. They were thoughtful. "Edward called me because I am the best. I have never walked away from a job until the quarry was dead.
"And if it takes my preternatural expertise to help kill the monster, can you deal with that?"
"I don't like it," he said.
"I know that, but that's not what I asked. Can you handle my expertise helping you kill the monster? Can you take my help if it is the best thing for the job?"
"I don't know," he said. At least he was being honest, even reasonable. It was a start.
"The question, Olaf, is which do you love more: the kill or your hatred of women?"
I could feel Edward's and Bernardo's stillness. The room held its collective breath waiting for the answer.
"I would rather kill than do anything else," Olaf said.
I nodded. "Great, and thank you."
He shook his head. "If I take your help, it does not mean that I consider you my equal."
"Me either," I said.
Someone kicked me under the table. I think it was Edward. But Olaf and I nodded at each other, not exactly smiling, but I think we had a truce. If he could control his hatred, and I could control my smart-ass impulses, the truce might last long enough for us to solve the case. I managed to reholster the Firestar without him noticing, which made me think less of him. Edward had noticed, and I think, so had Bernardo. What was Olaf's specialty? What good was he if he didn't know where the guns were?
29
AFTER BREAKFAST WE HEADED back into the dining room. Bernardo had volunteered to do the dishes. I think he was looking for any excuse to get out of the paperwork. Though I was beginning to wonder if Bernardo had been as badly spooked by the mutilations as Edward had been. Even the monsters were afraid of this one.
Last night I'd been ready to look at the forensic reports next, but in the clear light of day I could admit that it was cowardice. Reading about it was not as bad as seeing it. I so did not want to look at the photos. I was afraid to see them, and the moment I admitted that to myself, I moved them to the top of the list.
Edward suggested we stick all the pictures on the walls of the dining room.
"And put pin holes in your nice clean walls," I said.
"Don't be barbaric," Edward said. "We'll use sticky putty." He held up a small packet of the pliable yellow rectangles. He peeled off some and handed it to Olaf and me.
I squeezed the stuff between my fingers, rolling it into a ball. It made me smile. "I haven't seen this stuff since elementary school."
The three of us spent the next hour putting the pictures up on the wall. Just handling the sticky putty made me remember fourth grade and helping Miss Cooper hang Christmas decorations on the walls.
We'd hung cheerful Santas, fat candy canes, and bright balls. Now I was hanging vivisected bodies, close-ups of skinless faces, shots of rooms full of body parts. By the time we had one wall covered I was mildly depressed. Finally, the pictures took up almost all the empty white wall space.
I stood in the center of the room and looked at it all. "Sweet Jesus."