“Necessary businesses in a community, but you two have the only properties that provide accommodations for visitors or short-term residents,” Julian said. “The campers that are available to rent at the far end of the village are old and seedy, without running water. There are toilets and pay showers on the grounds, and a couple of pipes where you can fill your own jugs with potable water. I know because I considered renting one of those campers when I first relocated to Sproing and was looking for a temporary place to live.”

“But you stayed here at the boardinghouse,” Ineke said.

“You bet I did. Given a choice between a clean room with its own bathroom and a musty camper with access to public toilets and showers, it was an easy decision.”

“I have three cabins that have been updated and nine that are serviceable if primitive, with the same kind of sanitary facilities as the camper area,” Vicki said.

“You have rustic cabins on the lake,” Julian countered. “You have a large main house with all kinds of extras for your lodgers, including shower facilities, kitchen privileges, and several common rooms where people can read or watch television or socialize. And you have a private beach that is equal in size to the public beach on the southern end of the lake.” He leaned forward. “When it comes to desirable accommodations in Sproing or around Lake Silence, you two are the only game in town.”

There was a look in Ineke’s eyes that helped Grimshaw remember the tattoos he’d seen yesterday morning—and wonder if he should mention them to Julian. Instead he asked, “Do you have a mortgage on this place?”

“No.” Ineke said the word fiercely, but a moment later she looked uncertain. “Not a mortgage, but there are a couple of liens on the house and other buildings—money I borrowed for repairs and improvements.”

“The bank holds the liens?”

“Yes.” She aborted a glance at Ilya when she said it, which told Grimshaw that she wasn’t paying a loan back to the bank and knew it.

“No,” Ilya Sanguinati said. “The bank had a few cash-flow problems a few years ago due to . . . I believe humans refer to it as having one’s hand in the till. Or maybe this was the creative bookkeeping that is mentioned in some crime stories.” He moved his shoulders enough that the movement could be translated as a shrug. “Since the bank was privately owned, and since we saw advantages to preventing its collapse, Silence Lodge bought all of the bank’s paper, including liens like the ones on Ms. Xavier’s boardinghouse. We did not want to upset Sproing’s human residents, so the Lake Silence Mortgage and Loan Company came into being and worked through the bank, an invisible but vital part of the bank’s health—and the Sanguinati interested in the banking and investment business became the bank’s officers, allowing the president to keep his title as the human figurehead in exchange for a modest salary. And, technically, he still owned the bank. One of his last independent acts was to hire the recently removed bank manager to run the bank. Since the man had the education and credentials for such a position, we did not object.”

“Does the bank’s president live here?” Grimshaw asked.

Ilya shook his head. “He relocated to Putney. My kin who are interested in banking informed me last evening that the recently removed bank manager had lived in Putney before coming to Sproing. That had not been significant until now, when too many humans from Putney are showing too much interest in The Jumble.”

Putney was the human town on Prong Lake—and the Putney Police Station was home base for Detective Marmaduke Swinn and his team. Like Ilya said, the connection to Putney was a little too strong to be coincidence.

“I wonder if your figurehead president has a particular tie clip,” Julian said.

Ilya smiled, showing a hint of fang. “An interesting thing to wonder. I can tell you that, one way or another, we are acquiring his remaining shares in the bank.”

“One way or another?” Grimshaw asked.

“The house he purchased in Putney was far beyond his means, and has continued to be more than he could afford.”

Vicki pointed at Ilya. “The Sanguinati hold the mortgage on his house?”

Ilya’s smiled widened. “The first and the second mortgages. The documents he signed when we provided the second mortgage—for terms that were far more forgiving than the human moneylenders he had considered when he ran into financial trouble again—gave us an option of demanding immediate payment in full of all that he owed us. The papers were served the morning after Detective Swinn brought Miss Vicki to the station for a chat. The difference between what he owed us and the current worth of his shares in the bank was petty cash.”

“So he had to choose between giving up what was left of the bank or losing his home in a way that would tell the rest of his creditors that he’s bankrupt,” Julian said. “One is a silent transaction up here, and the other would be public humiliation—worse if you make it obvious who is evicting him and his family.”

“The bank will close at its usual time today. It will reopen sometime next week as Lake Silence Bank.” Ilya looked at Ineke and Vicki. “We will, of course, retain any of the human employees who want to continue working for the bank. The honest ones, anyway.”

And the people in Sproing could do business with the Sanguinati knowingly or drive to Bristol or Crystalton, which were the closest human communities. That meant they would have to choose between holding their receipts until morning and then driving along those two-lane roads in the wild country to reach another human town to make their deposits, or keeping money in the store’s safe and hoping they wouldn’t be robbed.

Grimshaw almost felt sorry for his own people, but the Sanguinati would have learned cutthroat business practices by observing humans—or having been burned themselves because they had believed the humans would deal with them honestly.

“What’s that got to do with Vicki’s dream and my boardinghouse?” Ineke demanded.

“Someone who thinks he can force Ms. DeVine out of The Jumble might also think he can buy the liens from the bank and call them in, forcing you to sell or forfeit this place when you can’t pay the debt,” Grimshaw said.

“I don’t think Yorick has the business savvy to plan this kind of hostile takeover,” Vicki said.

Julian looked at Grimshaw. “Which brings us to the phone call and the answer to a question.” He looked at each of them. “I contacted Steve Ferryman. He’s the mayor of Ferryman’s Landing, which is an Intuit village on Great Island. He knows some . . . people . . . in Lakeside.”

“The Sanguinati at Silence Lodge know about the sweet blood who lives in the Lakeside Courtyard,” Ilya said quietly.

“Do they?” Grimshaw asked just as quietly. What did “sweet blood” mean to a vampire?

“She has friends among the Sanguinati who live in that Courtyard—and we are all entertained by stories about Broomstick Girl.” The vampire’s smiled sharpened. “What did she say?”

“I e-mailed a picture of the tie clip to Steve and briefly explained what was happening in Sproing,” Julian said. “The question that was sent to Lakeside was this: besides this tie clip, what do detectives working in Putney, a bank manager in Sproing, and a businessman living in Hubb NE have in common?”

“And the answer?” Grimshaw asked.

“Schools and . . .” Julian retrieved the box and set it on the table in front of the sofa. “Somehow this is part of the answer. Big wheels and little wheels.”

Judging by the picture on the cover, the box held sticks and wheels that children could put together to form different shapes.

“Is this the literal answer or a symbolic one?” Vicki asked.

“Difficult to say,” Julian replied. “I don’t know exactly how blood prophets see the future.”

“But you didn’t ask about the future.”

“No, but the girl who answered the question is working with a prototype deck of prophecy cards, which is making it possible to ask questions that aren’t specifically about the future. However, I was warned that this is a new skill that is still being learned, and the answer depends as much on the person interpreting the information as on the person who is guided to selecting particular images.”