Charlaine Harris - Day Shift

“She drank out of it while I was watching.”

“Yeah, it was your telling the Bonnet Park police that detail that let them know to look for the bottle. Somehow in the attempt to save her, it got knocked off the table and rolled under the couch. One of the cops there found it just in time. The doctor says he suspected an overdose from the first, but now it’s confirmed.”

“She said she dropped it in the lobby,” Manfred said. “She said people helped her pick up her stuff and put it back in her purse. I guess… could it have been put in there then?” He almost held his breath, waiting for the answer.

“It doesn’t seem likely,” Arthur said, and Manfred breathed again. “If someone wanted to poison her, surely they’d put the medicine in an identical water bottle and substitute that one for the one in her purse. And that would take a lot of foreknowledge. The appearance of the bottle, with all the butterfly decals on it. The type of medicine she’d been prescribed, the dosage that would kill her.”

“What kind did she take?”

“The medical examiner says she overdosed on Cardizem.”

“What exactly does that do?”

“That was her blood pressure medication.”

“But she wouldn’t have taken it like that. Crushed up and put in her water. Who would take their pills like that?”

“Some people — especially sick people, and especially elderly sick people — can forget they’ve taken a dose of their medicine and take another one. And maybe after that, they forget again. But not only was she comparatively too young and clearheaded to make such a mistake, the pills were actually ground up. Her daughters told the Bonnet Park police that she had no trouble swallowing pills the normal way. So the conclusion is, she was murdered. What was in her and what was left in the bottle was probably ten doses altogether. Enough to kill her.”

“She took that big a dose that morning?”

“Yes. Some time that morning, before she walked through your door, Rachel Goldthorpe had taken at least six times the dose of Cardizem she should have had for the day. In consequence, she went into shock and died.”

“Could her regular dosage of pills have had an unexpected effect on her because she was sick?”

“It was a deliberate overdose.” Arthur said this with finality.

“I don’t want to believe anyone would kill Rachel. Especially since it sounds like whoever did it, it had to be someone who knew her really, really well.” Manfred shook his head vehemently. “She would never have killed herself.”

“You sound pretty sure.”

“She was so coherent,” Manfred said. It was a relief to tell Arthur this; he hadn’t realized until this moment how much he’d wanted to talk about Rachel. “She felt pretty bad, as I told you. Sick as a dog. And she looked it. But she was on top of things mentally, for sure. She was just worried about her son.”

“Who still insists that you stole her jewelry.”

“Which I did not. For God’s sake, what would I do with it? You may not admire what I do for a living, but I’m not a thief.”

“That’s debatable,” Arthur said. “Most people would say that you take money under false pretenses: that you can actually predict the future or advise the people who call you on how to make their lives better.”

“I could debate that with you, but I’m not going to,” Manfred said. “I wouldn’t take jewelry, or… I don’t know, stock and bonds, whatever… or anything but money for services rendered. I’m an honest man.” He’d been sitting at his curving desk, and Arthur had taken the other office chair. Now Manfred rose to look outside. It was almost dark. “Twilight,” he said. “Dusk. Gloaming.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Arthur sounded amused.

“I don’t want to sound all mysterious, but you need to get in your car and leave now,” Manfred said. “It’s not safe here tonight.” He turned to face the sheriff. “Don’t ask me questions. I can’t answer them. You know this is a weird little town, right? Midnight has its own rules. Tonight’s not a good night to be here. So can we continue this conversation tomorrow? I can even drive into Davy if you want me to.”

“You’re serious?” The sheriff joined him at the window. He looked out curiously, didn’t see a thing except the deepening darkness. “I don’t see the Yakuza coming down the street, or a giant lizard.”

“Arthur. It’s not really a good evening to be making fun.”

The sincerity of Manfred’s concern finally got through to Arthur. “Who told you this?” he asked. “What’s the danger?”

“A very reliable source. And I don’t know yet, but I know it’s coming.”

“If something is going to be on the streets that’s so dangerous, shouldn’t I be calling out a SWAT team or at least more deputies?”

“That would just put them in danger, too,” Manfred said. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he knew it was so.

There was a muffled sound outside, and both the men peered out the window. The Rev was leading a cow by means of a rope around its neck. The cow was not happy.

“What the hell?” Arthur said. “What’s the minister doing with a cow?”

“Good-bye, Arthur,” Manfred said hopefully.

“Just to keep you on an even keel, okay, I’ll go,” Arthur said, with a smile that said he was placating Manfred. Manfred had no trouble reading that.

“Okay, see you tomorrow,” Manfred said. “Straight to your car, now.” He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. He opened his door. If Manfred could have lifted Arthur and thrown him into the front seat, he would have. As soon as the sheriff was out of the front door, Manfred closed it to a crack and watched as Arthur walked to the crumbling driveway. He unlocked the car with a key fob as he walked, so he could climb in and start the motor as soon as he got there. Manfred could hear the little thunk that said the car doors had locked automatically.

Blowing out a sigh of relief, Manfred shut his own door and locked it. He drew the curtains closed.

He went into the kitchen to heat up his Mexican supper at about the same moment Joe was landing behind the Antique Gallery and Nail Salon. Outside it grew as dark as it was going to get on this night of the glowing moon.

Manfred didn’t look out again, not even an hour later when he heard a sort of bellow. He thought it came from nearby, perhaps from across the road, and he thought it sounded like a terrified animal. But he only looked up from his book for a moment and then went back to reading with his jaw set. Much later, in the middle of the night, he woke. Despite the window air-conditioning in the front room, which served to cool the whole house, he had thrown off his sheet. He sat up to find the end so he could draw it back up. As he groped around the bed, he heard something pass by outside his house, something big, something that made an odd coughing noise. He closed his eyes and prayed, and the thing passed by. He sank back down on the bed, pulling the percale sheet up over him like a child.

Whatever had prowled around his house seemed to be going in the direction of the pawnshop.

—

In her basement apartment, with its windows right by the ground, Olivia watched the paws walk by outside. Her lights were all off. She felt safer that way.

—

Above the Antique Gallery and Nail Salon, Joe and Chuy looked out the front windows. For the most part, they were silent. Joe’s ankle was hurting, but it was bandaged and he’d taken some pain relievers. He was as comfortable as he was going to be that night. They’d pulled up chairs and a small table for their wineglasses, and Chuy had gotten Joe a footstool to prop his ankle on.