32

The day following the death of Ellery McGuire, the Reeds were afraid to come out of their trailer. “We’re in the open now,” Teacher said. “I went down there with a shotgun when McGuire showed up. They know Melanie’s dad hired me.”

“Olivia,” Madonna corrected him. “We’ve called her Olivia for two years; we might as well keep on going.”

“Mama play?” Grady asked, bringing her one of his puzzles.

“Sure, honey,” Madonna said, sitting on the floor with him. Since this was not her usual answer, Grady was delighted. His broad smile was so happy that Madonna had to smile back. “We may have a lot of time to play, little man,” she told Grady. She dumped the puzzle pieces out between them and said, “You put one in first.”

The puzzle was big and wooden, and Grady’s little hands fumbled a bit, but he put the boat in the boat-shaped cutout, and Teacher clapped. “You’re smart, Grady,” he said, and bent to kiss the child on the head.

“We may need Grady to get us out of this mess,” Madonna said. “It’s good that one of us is smart. We got to make a living, and since we weren’t open yesterday . . .”

There was a knock on the trailer door, which was such a rare occurrence that both the Reeds started. Madonna held out her hand to Teacher, who pulled her up off the floor easily. They faced the door.

“I have to answer it,” Teacher said finally.

“All right,” Madonna whispered. She opened a cabinet that was above Grady’s height and pulled out a Sig Sauer P220. “I’m ready.”

Teacher grabbed up Grady and went to the door. He took a deep breath and opened it from the side, awkwardly. He didn’t want to block Madonna’s line of fire.

Joe stood on the steps. His face was calm, and his hands were clasped in front of him. Madonna’s gun hand fell to her side without her willing it to do so.

“We’re cool,” Joe said. He nodded, to show that was his entire message. Then he left.

“This town,” Madonna said when Joe was out of hearing. “This damn town!”

“At least we know,” Teacher said, more philosophically. “Couldn’t ask for more straightforward than that.”

“You’re sure he means it?” Madonna returned the Sig Sauer to its hiding place.

“Yes,” Teacher said, not even taking a moment to think it over. “That was Joe, and he speaks the truth.”

“I’ve never lived in a place like this,” Madonna said, shaking her head. She took Grady from Teacher and nuzzled his neck. “Mama loves you, little man.”

“Mama,” Grady said, and patted her on the cheek. “Play.”

Mama did play with Grady for twenty minutes, and then she decided to open the diner for dinner, at least. Teacher said he’d help, since she’d told the local boy who bussed for her to take the day off. Madonna was glad she hadn’t given Lenore Whitefield an answer about making the nightly meals for the resident old folks in the hotel, because she would have had to scramble to get anything prepared in time.

The little Reed family walked over to Home Cookin, and Madonna felt much better when she began food preparations. She was a woman of many talents, but this was the one that made her happy.

Teacher’s cell phone rang as he was setting the tables. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller. “It’s the man,” he called to his wife, and answered the phone in a completely different voice.

“Yessir.” He listened. Then he spoke. “She’s going to be fine. I bribed an orderly to listen and look. Two more days in the hospital, maybe. Then home.” He listened some more.

“No, I don’t think you ought to come, Mr. Wicklow,” he said, trying not to sound horrified by the idea. “Her next of kin now is her husband. He might not want you to see her. You’re the boss; you’ll do what you want, of course. But if you wait until she gets out of the hospital . . . all right, then, good-bye.”

“How’s Wicklow handling the situation?” Madonna said, popping her head out of the kitchen. Her husband was putting his phone away, and he looked relieved.

“He’s plenty worried about her. But now that McGuire is dead and Olivia’s out of danger, I think he’s scared of actually facing her again. And maybe the old man doesn’t really want to know what Olivia does to make her money.”

Madonna shrugged. “Girl’s got to keep alive.”

“I think everybody in Midnight knows Olivia’s business. Everybody but us,” her husband said bitterly. “And that would be a good thing to know. He’d be sure we were on the job. We just can’t get anyone in this town to talk to us.”

Madonna said, “You better take that from Grady.”

Teacher swooped down on his son and took the pepper shaker away. “You’ll sneeze and wheeze if you eat that stuff, Grady,” he chided.

“Neeze,” Grady said, and Teacher laughed.

For the first time since the break-in, Fiji came to eat in the café that evening. She gave Teacher a very direct look, and he looked back, and after that she behaved as though the incident had never happened, or at least as far as Teacher could tell.

Fiji seemed wobbly to Teacher, and he noticed that the other Midnighters all took a moment to hug her or pat her or just say a quiet word. And when she’d eaten, the Rev himself walked her home, though Bobo wanted to, Teacher could tell.

Madonna and Teacher cleaned up the kitchen and were out the door by eight thirty. The night was dark and cool, with a promise of rain. Teacher stood looking up for a moment at the heavy clouds skidding across the sky, driven by the wind.

It was less than seven yards to the door of the trailer, but in that short space Teacher went from thinking of playing a game on his laptop to fearing for his life. Lemuel stood between Teacher’s family and home.

In the only light available, a weak security light over the rear door of the diner, Lemuel’s white skin seemed to glow like mother-of-pearl. Teacher bit back a scream, Madonna made a gulping noise, and Grady stirred sleepily on her shoulder.

“If Olivia had died, you would have died at this moment,” Lemuel said. “You were coming to her aid, they tell me. So you are saved.” And then he was gone.

“Oh my God,” Madonna said, after a moment of shuddering silence. “Oh my God.” Teacher felt even more unsettled by the whole incident when he realized that Madonna had tears running down her cheeks.

He had never seen his wife cry before.