Midnight Crossroad

Both men turned to the front door as it flew open.

Fiji came in, skidding to an abrupt stop when she realized both men were sitting calmly. “Oh!” she said. “Ummm, I saw your car outside, Sheriff . . . and I wondered if everything was okay over here.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Smith said mildly. “How do you feel, Mr. Winthrop?”

“Call me Bobo. I’m feeling okay, the way things are now,” Bobo agreed. He smiled at Fiji, who’d been all wound up to attack and now was floundering to deal with the rush of adrenaline. “You’re so great to come to my rescue, Feej. I have the best neighbors.”

“We feel the same way about you,” she said, almost at random. She’d caught her breath, and now she drew herself up with some dignity. “Okay, you obviously don’t need me, so I’ll get back to work.”

“Hey, let’s go to the diner tonight,” Bobo suggested out of an obscure sense of obligation. He was relieved when Fiji nodded and spun around to leave, her long skirt swirling around her legs as she pushed out the front door. A gust of wind turned her curly hair into a tornado around her head. She’s a woman full of movement, he thought.

“Monday. It’s not open,” she said over her shoulder.

“Then we’ll go to the Barbecue Shanty in Davy.”

“Okay, come by when you’re ready to eat,” she called over her shoulder. She obviously wanted to say more, but she bit down on the words.

“Thanks,” Bobo called, loud enough for her to hear as the door swung closed behind her. “And that’s why I live here,” he told the sheriff.

“Because everyone loves you?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true at all,” Bobo said. “But we do help each other out.”

“To the extent that one of your buddies might kill Aubrey Lowry if they discovered that she was exploiting you?”

Bobo looked stunned. “No, of course not! That’s so drastic. Besides, no one knew Aubrey’s background until you told us.”

Smith looked skeptical, but he didn’t press his question. “What was Aubrey like? Did she ever express any extreme political views to you?”

Bobo resigned himself to a painful conversation. “Aubrey was . . . she loved the outdoors. She loved shopping on the Internet. She liked cowboy boots and blue jeans, and she was a barrel rider in her teens. She grew up on a ranch. At least that was what she told me. Was that true?”

Smith nodded. “True.”

Bobo looked away for a moment. “Okay, good. Of course, she also talked about her dead parents, and you tell me they’re alive. She told me a lot about her nonexistent sister, not a word about the brother you said she actually has. Had. But she never discussed politics. Never said anything extremely right-wing. That would have been a red flag, for sure.”

Bobo climbed off the stool and opened a little refrigerator on the floor behind the counter. He asked Arthur Smith if he wanted a Coca-Cola, and Smith said, “No, thanks.”

After Bobo got back on his stool and popped the tab on his drink, he said, “I’m assuming you know all about my grandfather.”

Sheriff Smith didn’t answer. He’d taken off his hat and was twirling it slowly, his fingers working their way around the brim.

“So you do,” Bobo said, nodding gently. “Well, I’ve definitely swung the other way. I’m pro–gay marriage, pro-choice, pro-environment, pro-whales and tuna and wolves and every damn thing you can think of.” He put the mended brooch back in the case in front of him and regarded the other man very seriously. “If there’s anything in my life I wish I could erase, that time I spent listening to my grandfather spitting out hate would be what I’d pick.”

The sheriff looked down at his hat as he said, “You know it’s all over the Internet hate groups that you have some fabulous cache of guns and grenades and rocket launchers hidden away somewhere. That you can’t get rid of ’em and you can’t destroy ’em, so you’ve hidden them. And all those hate groups feel that you owe them that cache, because of your grandfather’s martyr status.”

“His legend is bigger than he was,” Bobo said, with a kind of sad anger. “I can’t show you any such treasure cave.” He sighed. “I can’t imagine why they think I’d hold on to such a stockpile.”

Arthur Smith stood. He was not a tall man, but he was a serious man, and his presence was large. “All right, Bobo. You take care. I’m sorry we had to search your place.”

Bobo shrugged, in an unhappy way. “That’s okay. I know you had to do it. Her parents have all her stuff?” Two days ago, two deputies had shown up with a warrant to remove Aubrey’s belongings. Since they’d all been boxed up and in the pawnshop storage closet, that had been quick enough; but they’d had to comb Bobo’s apartment in case he’d forgotten anything.

“Yeah, they’ve filled out the paperwork. There wasn’t anything you wanted?”

“Nah. I’ve got pictures and memories, and none of her stuff ever belonged to me in any sense. She didn’t bring any furniture or appliances, other than the toaster and the air filter and her grandmother’s sewing machine. I made sure that went with the other stuff.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks. Do you know when the funeral will be?”

“Her parents don’t really want you to know, and they don’t want you there. I don’t know any nice way to tell you that.”

Bobo felt like he was shrinking moment by moment. Everything of hers was gone. They’d take her memories from him if they could. He wasn’t a person who’d cared about Aubrey, not to them. He was the person who’d ended her life. He shook his head to dispel the sensation. “Well, I won’t try to go since they don’t want me,” he said. “But . . . they know I’ve got an alibi that held up, right?”

“I made sure they knew,” the sheriff said. He seemed sympathetic. “Their good sense hasn’t caught up with their grief and anger.”

Bobo nodded. He could understand that. “Okay, then. I hope you find out who did this.” He didn’t think he’d really breathe deeply again until Aubrey’s murderer was caught and imprisoned.

Arthur Smith concentrated on his hat brim. “For what it’s worth, I believe you. But I have to investigate, and I have to be impartial, and I have to evaluate the evidence on its own. So far, the evidence says you’re telling the truth. But if anything I find contradicts that, I’m going to come down on you like a ton of bricks.”