terrible judges, funny lawsuits. Arthur was more engaged in that world than any of the others, and he laughed the hardest. He was inspired to tell “best arrest” stories. And Bobo told a few “weird things people wanted to pawn” anecdotes—the used coffin, the grenade, the blank tombstones.
This was high entertainment for a Midnight dinner. Manfred looked at the smiling faces around the table: at Joe and Chuy, who were clearly enjoying themselves; at Fiji, who laughed out loud; at Olivia’s guarded smile and Bobo’s animated face. Dillon brought out a buttermilk pie with Madonna’s demand that they all try it, since it was a new recipe. It was already sliced, and they each took a piece. It was rich and delicious, but Manfred thought it too sweet. However, Madonna was so formidable that he didn’t say anything.
At eight thirty, the diners scattered for home as though they’d heard a warning bell sound. The glow in the sky was golden pink, and Magdalena’s and Manfred’s shadows preceded them as they strolled back to his house, where her car was parked. They didn’t talk: It was hot, and they were full, and Manfred had things to think about. Apparently, so did his lawyer.
Magdalena unlocked the car and opened the driver’s door. A blast of furnace-hot air gusted out. There was no question of leaning against the metal; she stood, shifting from foot to foot, a woman whose shoes were definitely pinching.
“You call my mom yet?” she asked.
“Nope, but tomorrow for sure.”
She seemed to consider, her eyes on her feet, as if she could make them ache less by looking at them.
“You people here are all very odd,” she said at last, and then she left.
32
The sun seemed to plummet; the light vanished abruptly, and only the glow of the moon illuminated Midnight. From time to time, it was obscured by clouds. Despite what the weather report had told Chuy two days before, the chance of rain was heavy in the air.
Fiji stood on her back porch, looking out over her garden, until the light was absolutely sucked away. She saw lightning cut through the darkness miles away to the south. She noticed a little piece of the darkness moving in the bushes, and then Mr. Snuggly was by her feet.
“Get in,” he said, in his bitter little voice. “Foolish woman.”
Fiji, who’d been mesmerized by the lightning, flung open the back door and skittered inside, Mr. Snuggly dashing in past her. She had the door shut and locked while he investigated his water and food bowl. He looked up at her with wide, sad eyes, and she could almost imagine tears.
“You piker,” she said, not without affection, and opened a can of cat food. She put half of it in his food bowl and cleaned and refilled his water bowl. There was silence for a few moments, while Mr. Snuggly made his food disappear with a neat dispatch that had her shaking her head incredulously.
When the cat finished, he began to clean his paws. He paused for a moment to say, “Did you know Joe has wings?”
“Yes,” she said. “I suspect he’s an angel.”
“Everyone else thinks they’re fake,” Mr. Snuggly observed, and resumed his cleaning program. “The wings, that is. The ones he and Chuy ‘wear’ at Halloween.”
“They’re just not always visible.” She sat down in one of the chairs by the kitchen table. She scrubbed her face with her hands. “Did you see anything else out there that I should know about?”
He nodded. “The Rev and Diederik are out and about,” he said. “Everyone else . . . besides you . . . is properly in a house.”
“And now I am, too,” she said, determined not to be miffed with the cat.
“The big man is almost back,” he said. “Diederik was talking to him on the phone.”
“Diederik’s father? That’s wonderful. The boy will be so happy. He’s grown so much! I wonder if his dad knew he would.” Fiji beamed at the cat.
“He told his son he was sorry to have missed the boy’s first moon time. I have very sharp ears.”
“I’m glad he’s coming back.”
“Tonight is very, very dangerous.”
The smile vanished from Fiji’s face. “More dangerous than the past two nights? Why?”
“Don’t need to know,” Mr. Snuggly muttered. “Long as you stay inside like a sane creature.”
“Why would I not?”
Muttering something unpleasant under his breath, Mr. Snuggly stalked into the front room. Making his way between the display cases and chairs and the table, he went over to the window