But Olivia loathed police attention.
Even Arthur Smith’s tactful interrogation had felt invasive. Between answering his questions, she had been looking around her to make sure her friends were close. Her eyes had met Chuy’s, and he nodded. Bobo, who’d answered almost as many questions as Olivia had, was sitting on the front steps of the pawnshop, still looking stunned. Olivia wondered why Fiji wasn’t there with him. The Rev stood framed in the doorway of his chapel across the street. Manfred had not issued forth from his house.
Then Olivia had spotted a face she didn’t recognize. An unfamiliar woman was standing at the edge of the furor. Olivia homed in on her, because the woman was inexplicable. She was not the press, she was not law enforcement, and she wasn’t one of the Midnighters.
Olivia had thought, I’d swear she’s a lawyer. But she herself had certainly not called a lawyer. The woman, who appeared to be in her forties, met Olivia’s eyes and Olivia decided the stranger looked simply curious.
But Olivia was distracted by the arrival of Price’s parents. Mr. and Mrs. Eggleston had arrived on the scene to find someone to blame for their son’s death. The older Egglestons knew of an enemy of Price’s who lived in Midnight, and Olivia couldn’t fault their logic when they assumed that Fiji Cavanaugh was the cause of their son’s death. Since Mr. and Mrs. Eggleston were reluctant to explain to the police that Price had kidnapped Fiji months before, their choice of the witch as murderer was incomprehensible to Sheriff Arthur Smith, who had ascertained the whereabouts of every Midnight resident (including the hotel residents) before and during Eggleston’s suicide, as quick as quick could be.
Fiji had had some good luck, too. She’d had a customer at the time; a very credible customer, too—Bonnie Vasquez, wife of a local rancher, who’d wanted to get a pretty rainbow sun catcher for her granddaughter. Kiki had been at Gas N Go buying some Coca-Cola, which Fiji didn’t keep in the house, and chatting up the new manager. The Rev and Diederik had been weeding in the pet cemetery behind the church. Chuy had been doing a pedicure for Lenore Whitefield, the manager of the Midnight Hotel, who had never in her life had one, and Joe had been a tactfully busy spectator. Manfred had been working alone, of course, but he’d been on the phone with a frequent caller who would love to testify that she’d been talking to him. All the transient guests of the hotel had been gone, and the residential guests had been napping or watching television in the lobby . . . except for the one who’d been watching out his window.
It was amazing how all the townspeople were in the clear.
Olivia had described the whole event to Lemuel at length. He was usually entertained by her accounts of things that happened while he was in his day-sleep, and she had figured he’d be glad that Price Eggleston was off the board. But Lemuel hadn’t reacted the way she’d anticipated.
“Olivia,” he’d said, in that voice that was so rusty and antique, “do not go over to talk to Fiji or the Reeds by yourself.”
It was very seldom that Lemuel told her what to do. She glared at him. “Like I’m scared of the Reeds,” she said. “They don’t even exist, right? And no one’s scared of Fiji.”
“You do like her,” he said, as if he were confirming something. “She’s very powerful.”
“Of course I like her. When I’m not completely irritated with her. She’s practically the town puppy. I don’t know where you get the power?” Olivia kept the glare up. “And what’s with the Reeds? You think they’re outlaws on the run? You think Grady’s gonna bite me?”
“No, that’s for me to do,” Lemuel said, smiling, and a rush of heat from her groin to her cheeks made Olivia kiss him. They didn’t talk about the Reeds anymore after that. But in the light of day, Olivia realized that Lemuel knew what sparked her lust better than anyone ever had, and he might have deliberately diverted her.
Not that they both hadn’t enjoyed the encounter. A lot. Olivia had gotten so accustomed to Lemuel’s physical coldness that she didn’t think of it any more, except to be grateful in the summer. And she didn’t mind the energy being siphoned off; in fact, it was a relief. She was a calmer and more thoughtful person as a result. But. Back to the cause of the diversion.
Olivia considered the Reeds, surprised that she hadn’t spent more time puzzling them out. Manfred was right; several times, he’d brought up the anomaly of the Reeds, to the point where she’d wanted him to shut up and accept the fact that the Reeds were part of the town. Now, she could see his point. And Lemuel needed her help, which was rare. Surely, Olivia thought, there’s something I can to do to help him.