hell is going on?
Sheriff Griggs arrives the same time my mother and Christie do.
“Benji,” my mother gasps as she pushes her way through the crowd, wrapping me in a hug. “Christ, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice muffled against her shoulder. She pulls away, and as mothers tend to do, checks for herself, not satisfied until she knows I haven’t actually been shot.
She asks what happened just as Griggs walks into the door. He looks around the store wearily before announcing loudly that the store needs to be cleared. Roselandians grumble but comply. They gather out near the one gas pump, whispering excitedly.
I tell the sheriff and one of his deputies the same thing I would have told my mother. The guy had come in, demanding money. I’d attempted to give him everything out of the register, but he wanted more. The bank, I say, picked up the funds from the safe the day before as they do for all the businesses on Poplar Street. The robber had flashed his gun around, and it’d gone off accidentally. We didn’t see where the bullet had gone, but there didn’t appear to be any damage. Maybe it misfired, I say. I didn’t know. But the shot seemed to scare him. He fled.
“That so?” the sheriff says. “Sounds like you got lucky, Benji. You and your friend Cal, here.”
Cal keeps his face blandly schooled and says nothing.
“Very lucky,” the sheriff repeated. “You got a security setup here, don’t you, Benji?”
“Eh, sorry, Sheriff,” a voice says from behind us. Abe walks out of the back office and down the aisle to where we stood. “Just went back to check the tape myself and there seemed to be a malfunction. The tape is completely blank. Didn’t record a darn thing. You should really get that checked, Benji. Hate to think something could happen again and there’d be no evidence of it.”
The real tape is out behind the store smashed to pieces and buried in the trash, but the Sheriff doesn’t need to know that.
Griggs frowns. “Well, isn’t that just something. Awfully convenient that happened. A shame there’s no video to back up what you’re saying.”
My mother scowls. “You sound like you don’t believe him,” she accuses Griggs. “What the hell else would have gone on here, Sheriff? My son was just attacked and you’re making it sound like he had something to do with this!”
Griggs shrugs. “Just asking questions, Lola. You know I have a job to do. If it makes you feel any better, the guy was caught very easily. Apparently someone saw him ditch the gun a few stores down and one of our very own residents made a citizen’s arrest. He’s heading over to the station as we speak.”
The words chill me, but I show nothing on my face because Griggs is watching for any reaction. “That’s good,” I say. “I’m glad he was caught so easy.”
Griggs laughs. “I bet. He’s also shooting off his mouth like you wouldn’t believe!”
“Oh?”
“Yep. Seems to think there was a monster in the store.”
“A monster?” my mother asks, sounding flabbergasted. “What on earth?”
“One of my deputies radioed me on my way here, letting me know that he’d packed the guy into the back of a squad car. Seems he’s shouting to anyone who’ll listen that there was a monster in this store. That the big guy here had grown wings and was going to kill him.” He sounds strangely amused, as if it is the funniest thing he’s heard in a long time. He glances over at Cal. “Well, how about it, big boy? You sprout some wings?”
“That’s ridicul—” I start until the sheriff raises a hand to silence me.
“No, sir,” Cal says quietly. “I don’t have wings.”
“You sure about that?” Griggs asks. “Seems the guy saw something.”
“I think if you’ll take a blood draw, Sheriff,” Abe says coldly, “you’ll find he was high as a kite. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know what he saw. Seems to me we’ve got a drug problem in Roseland. He’s not the first one I’ve seen lately. I doubt he’ll be the last.”
“That so, old-timer? Well, I may do just that.” He cocks his head at Abe. “And you make sure you call the station if you ever see someone with drug problems. I’ll be sure to take care of that for you. The streets of Roseland are no place for tweakers and burnouts.”
“You do that,” Abe replies flatly.
“You’ve caught the guy, Griggs,” my mother