If Catfish Had Nine Lives(13)

            “Oh, man, Betts, I just want to get out of here. This was fun and all until Norman got killed. Now, well, now, it’s just bad.”

            “I understand,” I said as we sauntered, the wooden boardwalk creaking every now and then with our footfalls. “But I think the police want to make sure they know who all is here first. Check up on everybody.”

            I heard him gulp before he stopped walking. “Check up on us? What do you mean?”

            “Questions and stuff.” I kept it simple.

            “Damn.”

            “Why are you concerned?”

            Cody looked around. Up and down the boardwalk again. He was a good-looking kid, and even for someone who was goofy, he had an intensity about him that I suspected had made his high school years very social.

            “I have a record,” he said quietly.

            Or maybe those high school years weren’t social as much as they were just spent in juvie.

            “Uh-oh, what’d you do?”

            Cody put his hands in his pocket and sighed. “You won’t tell, will you?”

            “Of course not,” I lied.

            “I borrowed a car. The owner said I stole it, but he lent it to me, I swear. I’d just turned eighteen, so it’ll show on my record.”

            “Oh. Who was the owner?”

            “Just a guy I went to school with. A big group of us were out having a good time, and a girl needed to go home, so I asked if I could borrow the guy’s car and get her home. He said I could, but then he called the police. The girl wouldn’t even back me up.”

            I knew that wasn’t the whole story, but I said, “I think you can explain that to the police, Cody. They’ll understand.” I didn’t know if they would or wouldn’t, but I doubted they’d care too much.

            “Oh, good. That’s a relief.”

            And, just like that, Cody seemed to feel better about everything. The color had even returned to his face.

            “Hey,” he said, “got any money?”

            “Uh. Why?”

            “You think that cookie shop is open? I’d love a cookie. I’d pay you back,” he said with his actor’s voice, and his actor’s stance and stare, too.

            I laughed at the almost perfect James Dean love-me eyes. I hadn’t been around someone like Cody in a long time.

            “I doubt they’re open, but we’ll see if Mabel, the owner, is in. I bet I could round up a couple cookies.”

            “And milk?”

            “What good’s a cookie without a little milk?” I said.

            “Exactly.”

            So, instead of a doctor’s appointment, I took Cody to Broken Crumbs and got some cookies for us both. I tried to learn more about what he’d observed with the goings-on at the convention, but instead I ended up learning more about Cody—his favorite music, television shows, movies, etc.

            I convinced him that he shouldn’t try to leave town, but it took three cookies to do it. I doubted he had it in him to kill someone, but he needed to stick around for another possible round of questioning. When we were done and as I watched him walk away down the boardwalk, I thought there was a small chance that he wouldn’t listen to me, but only a small one. He was such a good actor that the thought also crossed my mind that one cookie might have done the trick, but he just wanted to see how many he could bilk. I had to give him credit.