Charlaine Harris - Day Shift

Bobo said, “What does this mean for the future, I wonder?”

Of course, none of them knew the answer to that. It was unsettling, to say the least.

The electronic chime on the door made them all turn to see who’d come in.

“Hey, everyone,” said Arthur Smith.

They were relaxed enough with the sheriff to say “Hey” back and to make room for him at their table. He eyed Olivia’s roast beef sandwich with interest.

“I came to talk to you, Manfred, and I figured you’d be over here when I couldn’t catch you at your place.” Madonna brought Arthur a glass of water and some silverware, and he asked if he could have an open-face like Olivia. Madonna nodded impassively and left.

“What about? I’m not in more trouble, I hope?” Though Manfred tried to sound confident, he knew they could all hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“The Bonnet Park cops called me. They had a few things to say about Lewis Goldthorpe.”

“Oh?” Manfred hoped Arthur didn’t notice that everyone at the table had grown silent.

“Yeah. He came in to tell them today that he’d seen three tigers here.”

“Tigers. Three.” Manfred didn’t have to struggle to sound amazed. He really was; how did Lewis believe this news would go over at any police department in America? “Ah, and why was he here, did he say that? Because I sure can’t imagine it.”

He hoped he wasn’t imagining that Arthur’s eyes were sharp and taking in his every twitch.

“He said they ate his housekeeper. Some woman named Bertha?”

“Bertha was here, too?” Manfred couldn’t manage a laugh, but he did produce a passable sneer. “Aside from three tigers and Bertha, did he mention anyone else?”

Arthur smiled, just a little. “Nope. But since the jewelry was found and you couldn’t have killed Rachel Goldthorpe, you’re no longer part of the investigation.”

“Cleared!” Manfred thumped the table. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for all along. So did they give you a hint about who did kill her?”

“Don’t know. Lewis says it was this Bertha and that she was his dad’s mistress. I don’t know if that’s so or not. And no one can find Bertha. She’s gone from home, her son doesn’t know where she is, she didn’t show up for work, and her car is nowhere to be found. Her son says he has a blood test to prove he’s the son of Morton Goldthorpe. Annelle and Roseanna, the daughters, are pretty excited about that.”

“They want another brother? Weird,” Bobo said. “Well, the important thing is that Manfred is in the clear.”

“The Bonnet Park police couldn’t have told Manfred themselves?” Olivia looked properly indignant.

“They seem a little overrun with things to do right now,” Arthur said. “What with Lewis acting crazy, an unsolved death on their hands, the missing woman, a potential new heir, and the resultant publicity. Lewis, as it turns out, has been going all over the place telling this story about the tigers, and the chief of police there says he thinks the sisters are going to try to have him committed.”

“That’s a relief,” Manfred said. “He doesn’t sound stable enough to be running around on his own.”

Arthur nodded and began to cut up his sandwich. He closed his eyes for a moment to appreciate the aroma. “This is like heaven,” he said, and put a bite in his mouth.

“Enjoy it. I’ve got to go,” Olivia said, smiling all around. She folded her paper napkin and put it on her plate, pushing back from the table and rising in one smooth movement. She reached the glass door, where she paused. After a second, she said, “Arthur. Come here. Quick.”

With a sigh, Arthur laid down his fork and joined her. “What’s up?” he asked, making it clear he was none too happy.

“The Gas N Go is being robbed,” she said, as quietly as if the robber could hear her. “That car just pulled up to the pump. The guy went in with a hoodie on. Like the guy who’s robbed all the others. In this weather, a hoodie. He didn’t start pumping any gas.”

Madonna, who’d been clearing Olivia’s plate, went straight into the kitchen and came out with baby Grady and a shotgun. “You keep this child,” she said to Joe, handing Grady over. Grady and Joe were both a little surprised. Madonna went straight for the door with the shotgun in her hand. “No one is holding my husband up,” she said simply, and she would have pushed out the door and gone over to Gas N Go if Arthur hadn’t stopped her.

“Let me take care of this,” he said. “It’s my job. If I go down, feel free to take over. I’ve called for backup.” He smiled — just a little — and left Home Cookin.

They were all gathered at the window by then, Bobo and Manfred, Fiji, Chuy and Joe and Rasta and Grady. Olivia was outside on the sidewalk, very fidgety.

Arthur Smith had his game face on. He drew his gun and ran across the road. When he got to the corner of Gas N Go, he edged forward until he could see through the window.

“He know where the back door is?” Madonna asked no one.

“Yes,” Manfred said. “He does.” Arthur had seen it a few months before when Manfred and Bobo had gotten jumped in the alley behind the store.

They all held their breath while Arthur left the window and hurried up the alley to the back door.

“Teacher, don’t have locked that damn door,” Madonna said out loud.

He hadn’t.

Arthur slipped inside, and without saying a word, Madonna opened the door and crossed the street, shotgun at the ready.

“Ahhhh,” Fiji said. Her hands were twitching.

“You can’t go over there,” Manfred said. “Arthur wouldn’t understand.”

Olivia said, “Showtime.”

Like the diner, Gas N Go was fronted with glass, but it was at an angle to the street. There was no way the little crowd at Home Cookin could see inside as Madonna could. She pulled open the door and raised the shotgun, and they all drew in breath at the same moment. Joe held Grady’s little face to his shoulder so the boy couldn’t see.

There was no boom, no screaming, none of the sounds they were dreading they’d hear.

Instead, they heard sirens approaching from Davy.

“Oh, thank you, God,” Chuy said.

“All’s well that ends well,” Olivia murmured. “Well, I’m out of here.” As if nothing much had transpired, she strode down the sidewalk and crossed after the intersection to go back to her apartment.

Fiji had tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, what’s up?” Manfred asked. Then he realized how stupid that was, and he shook his head at his own foolishness.

“I know it’s dumb,” she said. “I think it’s just cumulative tension, you know? After last night?”

“Oh. You saw.”

She nodded. “I need some drama-free time,” she said. “And I’m going to go home and have me some.”

“Good idea,” Manfred said, but she was already out of Home Cookin and walking home. “And who knew Madonna kept a shotgun in the kitchen?” he asked Joe, who was rocking from side to side, Grady drowsing in his arms.

“Not me, for sure,” Joe said. “Chuy?”

“Knock me over with a feather,” Chuy said, and smiled.

The three weretigers, in their human bodies, of course, emerged from the Rev’s small house and stood in a line on the sidewalk, watching the deputies, including Gomez and Nash, swarm all over Gas N Go. The three wandered over to stand by the angels and the psychic, who had stepped outside. Manfred was hoping the blood patch outside his house was really dispersed. Olivia had done a good job, but he wanted to check.

Madonna came stomping back across the street, holding the shotgun broken open in the crook of her arm.

“Let me put this up. I’ll come back and get Grady,” she said.