Charlaine Harris - Day Shift

Fiji looked thoughtful. “Okay… what you’re saying is it’s working too well? That you feel you might have lost your judgment?”

He nodded vigorously. “Exactly.”

“So I need to temper it somehow.” Fiji pulled out the old notebook she kept in a drawer under the counter and got a pen from the caddy on her desk. “And you’re having flashbacks. So I need to cut down on the…” Her voice trailed off as she wrote a few more words. “Thanks, Manfred. I appreciate the feedback.”

“Have you met the new guy yet?”

“What new guy?”

“He may tell you his name is Rick, but he also says it’s Barry. Horowitz. He came in the middle of the night two nights ago. He’s the grandson of one of the residents.”

“And he’s staying?” She was still waiting for the pertinence of the new guy to manifest itself.

“For a while, at least,” Manfred said. “He’s unusual, Fiji. Even for here.”

Diederik came in, looking hopeful. Fiji immediately put a plate up on the counter, piled with homemade biscuits covered with plastic wrap. “Oh, thank you,” the boy said. He was even more appreciative when Fiji put a knife, a dish of butter, and some jam beside the biscuits.

They were both giving him a careful once-over. “I don’t think you grew as much,” Manfred said. “It’s slowing down.”

“I did get some bigger clothes, just in case, but I believe you’re right,” Fiji said, pushing the plate closer to Diederik, who unwrapped the biscuits with speed. He remembered to offer them to Manfred, but when Manfred shook his head, the boy looked relieved and dug in. Fiji put a glass of juice beside the plate, and Diederik drained it at a gulp.

“What does the Rev feed you?” Manfred asked.

“Oatmeal every morning. But some bacon also, this morning.” Diederik’s answer was not very clear.

“I don’t know where you put it,” Manfred said.

Fiji looked a little forlorn, as if she well understood the compulsion to eat, but Diederik said, “I’m always hungry. Always. I hope it won’t be like this forever!”

“I’m just guessing, but I don’t think it will be,” Fiji said. “Do you expect your father will come back soon?” She glanced at the calendar on her desk anxiously.

“Yes, after he completes his job,” Diederik said. He pushed the plate away from him, abruptly uninterested. “My aunt couldn’t keep me anymore. My mother died.”

Manfred could tell Fiji was as unnerved as he was. He picked up a wisp of a picture from the boy’s head. “Did you have a brother or sister?” he asked.

“I had an older sister. But she died before she was born, my mother told me.” Diederik looked suddenly forlorn.

“I’m so sorry,” Manfred said. It was definitely time to change the subject. “Listen, Diederik, when you finish doing whatever Fiji has lined up for you to do, can you come over to my place? I have a computer game you might enjoy.”

“Oh, yes,” the boy said, his smile back in place.

Manfred gave a wave of his hand and turned to leave. As he went through the door, he saw Bobo walking across the street to Fiji’s. “Leaving the store without a master?” he called, thinking with pleasure of how glad Fiji would be to see Bobo.

“I got a sign on the door with my phone number on it,” Bobo said. “I’m going nuts waiting for Lemuel to come back and Teacher to be relieved from convenience store duty. I hope he’s making good money.”

“No one seems to know who actually owns the convenience store. Except Teacher.”

“I never asked,” Bobo said with a shrug.

Manfred sat down at his computer and got back to work. He thought about taking the time to research who owned the store. But he would miss a day of work, going to Bonnet Park on his mission. With a sigh, he returned to solving the problems of people he didn’t know and might never meet. His own concerns would have to wait.

When Olivia entered the hotel, all the inhabitants were arguing. She stood back and listened for a while, a little amused and a lot exasperated. One of the “temporary residents” who was doing some contract work for Magic Portal, the computer business located east of Davy and Midnight, had returned to the hotel to find that (apparently) Shorty Horowitz had picked the lock to his room and (this was definite) was asleep on his bed. Shorty Horowitz, a short and round man with more white hair bristling out of his ears and nostrils than on his head, was irate, the temporary resident was even more irate, and Barry Horowitz was trying to calm everyone down, including Lenore Whitefield, who looked completely rattled. Harvey Whitefield was not in evidence.

“My grandfather got confused and thought he was getting into his own room,” Barry was saying. Olivia was the only one who noticed he hadn’t consulted with the old man before he said this.

“And he picks the locks in his own place?” was the first thing that popped out of the other man’s mouth. A young man about Barry’s age, he was wearing a ratty T-shirt and jeans, but he was making some serious money if his accessories were any indication. The wallet in his back pocket was so thick with plastic that (if Olivia had been given to worrying about people) she would have had concerns for his spine. He had a very cool watch on his wrist. The sunglasses propped up on his head were high-end Oakleys.

“Nobody else is gonna do it!” Shorty bleated, and Olivia had to stifle a grin.

“Why don’t you have keycards like everyone else in this century?” Mr. Temporary snarled at Mrs. Whitefield.

Olivia thought it was interesting that the man’s rudeness stiffened Lenore Whitefield’s spine.

“It wouldn’t be in keeping with the age of the hotel,” she retorted. “Mr. Lattimore, nothing in your room was taken or harmed. Mr. Horowitz is obviously a senior citizen with some memory issues. I’m sure you got an unpleasant surprise, but the incident is over, with no one hurt. And no property damage.”

Olivia decided there was more to the woman than she’d imagined. The wind went out of Lattimore’s sails, and he deflated completely after threatening to have Magic Portal find him a room somewhere else, to which Mrs. Whitefield responded, “Good luck with that.”

The hall cleared abruptly.

Lattimore stomped into his room and shut the door, making sure to shoot the dead bolt so that everyone could hear it. Barry guided Shorty downstairs to his own room, with Olivia following at a discreet distance. Finally, Barry emerged from Shorty’s room. He looked frazzled. He did not seem surprised that Olivia was waiting for him. She said, “I came to talk to you.”

“I figured. To what do I owe the honor?”

“I have a business proposition for you.”

“Does it involve vampires in any way?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then I’m all ears.”

Shorty’s room was at the rear of the hall. On their way to the lobby area, Olivia saw Tommy, Mamie, and Suzie playing cards in Tommy’s room with the door virtuously open. “I’ll talk to you all later,” she called. They nodded, barely lifting their heads from their cards.

Barry brought her a can of Coke. Olivia popped the top to be sociable, though carbonated beverages were not her drink of choice.

“You seem to understand old people,” she began, wanting to start on a positive note.

“I understood that I needed to come find out what was happening when I got to Shorty’s apartment in Nevada and found out he’d gone,” Barry said grimly. “As you saw just now, my grandfather has memory glitches. He seems to have managed to cover that up from the people who lured him here. Evidently, he told them that he had no living relatives. The Whitefields were some kind of surprised when I tracked him down.”