Living Witness(45)

“If I’d pounded the shit out of her, she’d have stayed pounded,” he said out loud.

“What?”

It was Marcey’s voice, coming from behind him. Franklin’s back stiffened. Marcey never came down to the store during working hours. In fact, it was part of their agreement, unstated but adhered to religiously for years. Marcey never came down to the store and she was never sick for church. Those were the only two rules that mattered. Franklin didn’t care about anything else. And yet here Marcey was, hanging on to a stack of tires in a display and on the verge of tears. Marcey was always on the verge of tears.

“I thought we agreed that you didn’t like to come down here,” Franklin said. He was still looking out the window. Gregor Demarkian and Gary Albright seemed to be talking about something. Gregor Demarkian was looking up and down Main Street as if it were an exhibit in a zoo. Well, that was what those people thought, wasn’t it? They thought that all decent people were exhibits in a zoo.

“Franklin,” Marcey said.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Franklin said. “It causes trouble. It upsets the staff. You know that.”

“But Miss Marbledale called me.”

“So what?” Franklin said. “Miss Marbledale called me, too. About that damned new school building. Somebody whacked Annie-Vic and now everything is going to Hell.”

“Well, this isn’t about the new school building, is it?” Marcey said. “It’s about Janey. And it’s not the first time. We’re going to have to do something, Franklin. I don’t think Barbie McGuffie is a good influence.”

“Of course Barbie McGuffie is a good influence,” Franklin said. “She belongs to our church. Barbie and Janey have been going to Vacation Bible School together for years.”

Marcey took a deep breath. It was loud. Franklin could hear it. He nearly cringed. There she was, and her voiced sounded as if somebody had fuzzed it up around the edges. Marcey always sounded as if she were talking through velvet. Franklin bit his lip. Gregor Demarkian had gone into the police department building with Gary Albright.

“I don’t think it’s right,” Franklin said. “Bringing somebody in from outside like that. If you’re going to bring in somebody from the outside, you bring in the state police. That’s what they’re for.”

“Franklin, please. Janey’s in detention. And it’s all because of Barbie McGuffie. Barbie McGuffie—”

“Barbie McGuffie is a nice kid who’s being persecuted,” Franklin said. He turned away from the window and looked at Marcey straight on. There was nothing left to look at in the street. He couldn’t avoid it.

“Franklin,” she said, and she wasn’t near tears anymore. She was crying. “Please. They did something, they wrote something on the back of that girl, that Cornish girl—”

“We should have a Christian school here,” Franklin said. “A real Christian school. Not that hillbilly version Nick Frapp put up. We should have a place to send Janey so she doesn’t get harassed by people like that.”

“By Barbie?” Marcey said. “You think Janey is being harassed by Barbie? Maybe—”

“Of course Janey isn’t being harassed by Barbie,” Franklin said. Marcey’s expression fell, but he ignored it. He ignored the tears that were streaming down her face. He ignored the mess that was happening to her mascara. “It’s that Cornish girl, and all the rest of them. The people from the development. The secular humanists. What right do they have to come in here and tell us how to run our school? They don’t know anything about this town. And they never will know, because they never stay, and you know it.”

“Oh,” Marcey said. She put a hand up and wiped at her cheek. The gesture smeared black mascara across her face in a wide arching sheet.

“For God’s sake,” Franklin said.

He grabbed her arm and headed for the employees’ bathroom. That was the only kind of bathroom he had in the store. He didn’t believe in executive bathrooms, putting himself ahead of his people. It only caused resentment, and people didn’t work as hard. He didn’t believe in customer bathrooms, either, because when you put those in, people came in from off the street just to use them, and they never bought tires.

There were people in the store and they were looking at Marcey. Franklin got her behind the counter then into the corridor in the back.

“For God’s sake,” he said again. “You’re making a scene. There are customers out there.”

“I’m just worried,” Marcey said. “I’m worried about Janey. I’m worried about you. You tell me it’s all the fault of the secular humanists, but it doesn’t matter if it is, does it? I mean, Janey is in just as much trouble, and you say you’re the chief suspect in a mugging, or whatever that was, you say they think you—”