Day Shift

18

Olivia was in the chapel. She could count on one hand the times she’d entered the old building. She realized now that she hadn’t been missing anything. The chapel had been built from thick planks, perhaps hand-cut, she speculated, looking at them now. It was a very basic rectangular building with a pitched roof and a steeple slapped on top. It was painted white inside and out, but it was just about due another coat. Inside, the wood floors had been painted, too, a dark gray. The benches that served as the pews were sturdy but a bit splintery. There was electricity, of a very basic sort, though the Rev didn’t often turn the bare bulb on. There was an altar. There was no stained glass, no beautiful vestments or altar cloths, no candles or incense. But there were three paintings, the old one above the altar that had always been there, and two Grandma Moses — style oils depicting two stories from the Bible: Daniel in the lions’ den, and Noah and the ark. The new paintings were donations from Bobo. The owner, whom Bobo had told the Rev was the artist himself, had never redeemed the artworks, and Bobo had thought they would suit the Rev.

Bobo had been right.

The Rev had been gazing at them in a fascinated way when Olivia had entered.

Now the Reverend Emilio Sheehan was sitting on a bench facing Olivia, and they were staring at each other. The Rev, small and dark and wiry, was as tough as shoe leather. Though Olivia considered herself just as formidable, she was a little anxious. She could not remember ever having a one-on-one conversation with the Rev.

But she knew he didn’t do small talk, and she was not good at it, either, so she went straight to the point.

“I know everyone likes Fiji better,” she said. “And I know she’s a better person than me.”

The Rev cocked his head to one side and waited. His dark eyes were bright in the gloomy interior of the chapel.

“But I have my own strengths and weaknesses,” she said.

He nodded. “You’re a fighter,” he said.

She took a deep breath. “My father is one of the richest men in America.”

The Rev’s expression didn’t change. “And?” he said. The syllable came out cracked and harsh, like the croaking of raven.

“And you know what this man did to me when I was a little girl?”

The Rev seemed, almost undetectably, to brace himself to hear something distasteful. “Fucked you?”

“Nope. That would have been straightforward. He let my mom do things with me. Rent me out to her little boyfriends. He pretended he didn’t know.” Her lips twisted in disgust. “She charged them to have sex with me. It was like Monopoly money to her. I was like the little shoe or the iron.” Her shoulders compacted, her body hunched in on itself. She appeared about half her size.

The Monopoly references did not seem to register with the Rev. “She living? Able to pay?”

“Now there’s a question that makes sense,” Olivia said. “No, she’s not. She was the first person I killed.”

“What did you do with her?” The Rev asked this question with an almost professional interest.

“I took her boat out,” she said. “I tossed her in the ocean. I hope the fishes ate her.”

“Something surely did,” the Rev said. He approved of that.

She said, greatly daring, “Is that what you do with the bodies?”

“No,” the Rev said, after a laden pause. “Not unless it’s at the full moon, some instance of self-defense. I’m no cannibal.”

“Gotcha,” she said, puzzled by his words, but getting that he was offended. “My point is — I kill people who need killing, and it doesn’t seem to bother me. I could say my parents made me that way, but that sounds like I think I need an excuse. I don’t.”

“Dead insides,” the Rev said, by way of diagnosis.

“Exactly.” She seemed relieved to find someone who understood. “I have to wonder how you can be a reverend, and yet you do these things?”

“Hide the bodies of killers? Dispense justice to those who threaten the peace of this place?”

In a nutshell, Olivia thought. She nodded.

“Because that’s why I’m here,” he said. “I can’t say no different than that. The God of Moses and Abraham put me here to preserve and protect Midnight. That’s my job. And I’ll do it to the best of my ability.” He gave her a sharp nod in return, to tell her the subject was closed.

“I’m trying to help Manfred solve his problem,” she said. “But so far, we haven’t gotten anywhere. Do you have any advice?”

“Use every resource available,” he told her. “You haven’t done that yet. That’s quieter. But if that don’t work, go in strong and hard.” And the way he leaned back after he spoke, Olivia knew that was all he was going to say. She thought of a dozen other questions, but she’d reached his limit.

“All right, then,” she said. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Then that’s all you need to worry about, Olivia.” The Rev extended his hand, holding it over her head but not touching it. In his creaking, cracking voice, he said, “God over the serpents and animals and creatures of the land and water, bless this thy servant, Olivia. Give her strength and courage to complete her purpose. Amen.”

Feeling oddly better, as if she’d been given a blank check, Olivia rose to her feet and left the chapel.

She had had an idea.

She went over to Manfred’s. He gestured her in and dashed back to his computer and telephone console. He picked up the phone and had it at his ear like lightning. “No, Mandy, I don’t think you need to do that,” he said. “No, I definitely think a more conservative approach… Why? Because if you jump ahead of your stars, you’re going to cancel out the advice they’re giving you. Wait to see what the vet has to tell you before… Yes, I’m sure. Wait, and you’ll be rewarded with valuable information.” After a few more minutes of reassurances, he hung up. “Wanted to have her dog put to sleep because she found a lump on the dog’s chest,” he said. “No signs, no symptoms of anything wrong. Wanted to spare the dog pain.”

“Speaking of animals,” she said, “I was just over looking at the Rev’s new paintings. And asking his advice.”

He made a face and rubbed his eyes with both hands. “Thanks for letting me know that you don’t give a damn about what I’m doing,” he said. He put his hands down and looked at her. “What’s up?” He sounded tired.

Olivia didn’t understand what he was blathering about. “While I talked to the Rev, I had an idea. Lewis doesn’t know me as Olivia, but there’s a faint chance he might recognize me, and Bertha or the gardener might, too. Despite the wig. Lewis knows you by sight. Fiji’s not good at subterfuge. We ruled out her bespelling someone. But what about the old people?”

“Tommy and the people at the hotel?” Manfred was not too swift today, Olivia thought, because he seemed slow to hop on the bandwagon. “What about them?”

“We’ll take them to the Goldthorpe house,” Olivia said. “They might have known Rachel or her husband. You know how most people think old people all look alike? I’m willing to bet that Lewis won’t know they’re not friends of his mother’s or father’s.”

“They’re way older,” Manfred said. Olivia thought he seemed a little huffy, and she could not think why. “Rachel was in her early sixties. Tommy and his buddies have to be twenty years older, give or take five years.”

“Morton was older than Rachel, right? Maybe they were his friends.”

“Okay, assume we say they were. Assume these old people, whom we hardly know, agree to pretend they knew Morton. So what?”

“We get in in the daytime. No breaking in.” Olivia smiled broadly. “See, we’ve sent a letter ahead of time, telling Lewis that Mr. Quick had loaned some books to his old friend Morton Goldthorpe. He’s heard Morton passed, and he’s coming to collect the books. We take Tommy and one of the other oldies posing as his wife. That way we get into the library and have a look at what’s there.”

“You think Lewis will let us get that far? You’ve met him. Did he seem like a guy who would let in a stranger without a fight?”

“Maybe not, but we’ll have the old people with us, so what can he do about it?”

“He’s crazy bad and rude, Olivia. You can’t count on him to act like a guy with social skills. And especially if I were anywhere near. Lewis wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire.”

“I had this idea in a church. So it’s got to be a good one, if we just fine-tune it a little.” She was not completely serious, but she could visualize this all falling into place, and she thought it was the beginning of a real plan. She was frustrated that Manfred couldn’t seem to see its promise. “Manfred, it’s all confusion to the enemy!”

He smiled, a bit reluctantly. “That’s true,” he said. “But it sounds kind of sketchy, to say the least. Who will go with them?”

“Do you think we could talk Joe into it?”

“Joe… why him?”

“Because he just inspires a feeling of reliability. You trust him. Right?”

“That’s true. He’s the most likable resident of Midnight, with the possible exception of Bobo. What about Bobo?”

“He can’t leave work,” she said. “Let me review the domino effect we have going. Teacher used to take over during the day if Bobo wanted off. But now Teacher’s stuck in the convenience store until the owners find a permanent replacement. Lem isn’t here to keep the pawnshop open at night, so I’ve been filling in for him, though I can’t do it every night. I have my own business to conduct.”

“We should ask Bobo first, though.”

“Why are you being so freaking stubborn?”

“Because I know Bobo better, that’s all.”

“All right. Go over there and ask him.” Olivia marched into Manfred’s TV area and sat on the couch. She was obviously prepared to wait until kingdom come.

Manfred glanced at his telephone, and its light was blinking merrily. “I have to work,” he said. “I have bills to pay.”

“Like your lawyer bill? It’s only going to get higher if we don’t close this thing down.”

“I’ll be right back.” Manfred knew when to accept the situation. He was over at the pawnshop in less than a minute.

Though the day outside was bright and cloudless and blindingly hot, the inside of the pawnshop was dark and cool. Bobo was behind the high counter, sitting on a stool and typing on the keyboard.

“Guns,” he explained. “The paperwork on guns. Never ending.”

“Bobo, I have a favor to ask you.”

“I’m kind of stretched thin now, Manfred, but you can ask.”

Now that Manfred’s eyes were accustomed to the dusky light, he could see that Bobo looked tired and that his sleepy goodwill was simply sleepy. Suddenly, Manfred felt selfish. He was asking his landlord and friend to do something that was both an imposition and an inconvenience.

“Never mind,” he said.

Bobo smiled. “Well, okay. Normally I’d bug you to find out what you needed, but having Teacher stuck in place at the convenience store and Lemuel gone at the same time is running me ragged. And of course, this is the time when the shop’s gotten busy, for a reason I can’t even begin to understand.” As if to underline his words, the bell on the door chimed as a burly man came in carrying a guitar case. Bobo glanced at the wall of musical instruments on display and sighed. “Be right with you,” he called.

“It’s cool,” Manfred said. “You’ve got a lot on your plate right now.” He turned to go.

“Hey,” Bobo said abruptly. “Is it true that Fiji is going out with the bouncer from Cartoon Saloon?”

“So she says.”

“But he seems a little…” Bobo’s voice trailed off, and he waved a hand to convey what his words could not.

“A little what?” Manfred said, curious to see what Bobo would come up with.

“A little tough,” Bobo said.

This was interesting. “Yeah, well, bouncer,” Manfred said cautiously. “She says he’s also an EMT.”

“I just hope he’s a good guy. He seems all wrong for her.”

“Fiji’s healthy and pretty. You can’t expect her to sit home by herself.”

And this time Manfred left, but he was smiling to himself.