Midnight Crossroad (Page 40)

“And I’d expect that. Hey, we’re bonding.” Bobo smiled.

The sheriff smiled back, albeit reluctantly. “You people who live in Midnight. You’re all marching to the beat of a different drummer.” Hat back on his head and tugged into position, he half turned, ready to leave.

Bobo smiled more broadly. “You hit the nail on the head. We are different, Arthur Smith. I’m the most average person you’ll meet here.” The smile faded.

The sheriff thought of another question. “And now I’ve got to go bother some of your neighbors. Is Olivia Charity around? I understand she has an apartment below the store?”

Bobo said, “Yeah. You can see if she’s awake, but please knock softly on the door marked B. The guy who rents A works nights, so he sleeps days. That’s why he wasn’t on the picnic.”

“Lemuel Bridger? I haven’t met him yet. I definitely need to talk to him. I’m interviewing everyone who knew her. I guess that would naturally include him since he lived in the same building.”

“Yes, he knew Aubrey, though I don’t think he knew her well. But you’ll have to wait until it’s dark. He really can’t wake up when he’s deep asleep.”

Sheriff Smith looked at Bobo, a little skeptically. “Even if I pound on his door, he won’t wake up?”

“You really don’t want to do that,” said Olivia, and the sheriff jumped.

She’d come into the pawnshop from the door that led onto the landing. Her feet were bare, and the rest of her was swathed in a pair of blue fuzzy pajamas decorated with sheep. “I’d be glad to talk to you right now, Sheriff. Did you want to come down to my place? I’m sure Bobo’s got things to do.”

“That’d be fine.” The sheriff followed her to the door to the stairs. He turned before he went through it. “Oh, Bobo? One more thing you ought to know. Aubrey’s brother, Macon. He’s pretty upset about Aubrey. If you meet him, watch out.”

After the door had closed, Bobo said, “Thanks, Sheriff. ‘Hey, Bobo, there’s this guy who wants to kill you because he thinks you killed his sister. So you watch your step, now!’”

Bobo got off the stool. The sheriff had left the velvet chair facing the counter, so Bobo turned it to face the street door, its proper position. He retrieved a Craig Johnson novel from a nearby piecrust table and settled down to read, the Coca-Cola on a coaster on the table beside him. Somehow, his conversation with Arthur Smith had cleared his mind. He was officially not a suspect. He was not going to be arrested for murder. On the other hand, the publicity about Aubrey’s death had resurrected all the gossip about his grandfather, and Aubrey’s family hated him, including Aubrey’s unknown brother.

“Two steps forward, one step back,” Bobo muttered out loud. He glanced up just as a car paused at the stoplight outside, and he smiled as he remembered Fiji dashing to his rescue. It would be nice to go to dinner with her tonight, resume his normal life.

Not his old normal in which the woman he loved had left him because he’d done something awful that he couldn’t fathom, the old normal in which he waited to hear from her every day.

It would be the new normal; the world in which Aubrey had never loved him, had told him many lies, and had vanished through violence.

21

The next night, at the diner, the Rev preached after his dinner. He finished his food, patted his lips with his paper napkin, and stood up, turning to face the round table.

In a surprisingly deep, sonorous voice, he began to give them the Word as he interpreted it. Bobo put down his fork and folded his arms across his chest, prepared to listen. Olivia looked down at her plate regretfully and followed suit. On her left, Manfred was just beginning to cut his meat, but Olivia laid a hand on his arm. “Nope,” she whispered, not turning her gaze away from the Rev. “Respect.”

Another mysterious Midnight rule. Manfred resigned himself to waiting until the Rev was through, but he was peeved. He’d come in late, and he’d just gotten served—sadly, not by Creek, but by Madonna. His food was hot and smelled delicious, but here he sat, still and hungry.

As he listened, Manfred became interested despite himself. This was not the fire-and-brimstone message he’d been expecting, but an elaborate explanation that began with the Garden of Eden, detailing how God had created creatures that combined the features of animals and man, the were-creatures so feared today. The Rev believed that key verses had been deleted from the Bible so that bad men could repress the were-creatures, so that they would be humbled away from their pride in their superiority. The Rev believed that men only had power over the two-natured because of their vast numbers and their willingness to kill what they didn’t understand.

It was confusing but fascinating, even though Manfred’s mouth was still watering over the baked chicken and green beans with new potatoes that were cooling on his plate. The Rev certainly knew his Bible, and he knew a lot of extra scripture besides, verses that had been “left out.” Manfred now heard a few of those verses. “I’m amazed at how convincing that sounds,” he whispered to Joe on his left. To Manfred’s embarrassment and surprise, Joe seemed offended at his skepticism. Again, Manfred was at a loss.

For five more minutes the Rev rambled, and even Madonna stood behind the counter at attention during the impromptu sermon. Abruptly, the small man came to the end of what he had to say, and he concluded with “Amen!” His congregation echoed the word with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The Rev gave a decided nod, as if he were satisfied with the response. Then he stalked from the diner, his hat firmly planted on his head, his back straight as a ramrod.

“How often does he do that?” Manfred asked, hoping it was okay to inquire.

“Not often. Usually means he’s worried about something,” Joe said. “I didn’t mean to go all righteous on you, but the Rev believes what he says, and we go along with him. You don’t want to upset him.”

Manfred said, “Of course I don’t want to be rude to him . . . but you sound almost scared.”

“You would be, too, if you ever saw him angry,” Joe said, and then firmly turned the conversation in another direction. “Bobo, I saw the sheriff’s car at your place yesterday. Everything okay?”

“The sheriff said they’re satisfied with my alibi. Apparently, I’m in the clear.” Bobo didn’t look particularly happy, though. “And here’s another thing,” he said. “The gun, the one they found? It was from the shop, which I knew when they held it up. That day we found her.”