trying to pull? The money went to her agent first, and he took his cut. Then he sent the bulk of it to her account, which wasn’t in America. Lemuel had asked her once how she could be sure her agent was honest. “I know where he lives,” she’d told him.
“When . . . ?”
“Soon. I’ll call you at this number when I’ve gotten it.”
And she hung up, as abruptly as Lemuel had. That thought made her smile. But the smile faded immediately as she thought over the man’s story. She didn’t believe him, at least not entirely. He had tailored it to make her feel good about the theft. He might be a terrible father, and his soon-to-be-ex-wife a paragon of virtue. But it didn’t make any difference to Olivia. She was not a social worker. She took the side she was paid to take.
She would not go to check the mailbox for another two or three days. It was a long drive. Maybe, in the interim, she could take care of Manfred’s problem. Then the Rev would be off her back, the news media would never again come to Midnight, and the mysterious fast-growing boy—whoever he was—would be safe. And when Lemuel returned, he would not be spotted by anyone who shouldn’t come to Midnight.
She went out that day, stopping by Manfred’s to see if he’d gotten any more news. He told her about his visit with the Bonnet Park police the day before and about his new esteem for his lawyer. “There aren’t any reporters here today at all,” he said, casting a look out the front windows. “I guess I’m not news since the more exciting developments at Rachel’s house. Yee-haw.”
“Don’t relax. All it’ll take is another accusation by Lewis Goldthorpe, and you’re back on the hot plate,” she said. She came to the window to look out herself.
A car pulled up in front of Manfred’s little house.
“Who . . . ? Oh, shit,” he said, with heartfelt disgust.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Olivia’s lips curled back as she watched a man and a woman get out of the aged car. The man was Lewis Goldthorpe. The woman was a news blogger, and her site had gathered a certain amount of attention from people who liked their news on a screen and on the sensational side. Olivia had seen her on a minor national show. “That’s PNGirl. You know, Paranormal Girl.”
“She’s asked me for interviews before. Should I answer the door?” Manfred said.
“Only if you want her to take your picture and put it on the Internet,” Olivia said. “And you know Lewis is going to scream and holler.” She glanced sideways (and a little down) at Manfred. “This is going to make the Rev furious.”
“Maybe he won’t find out,” her companion said feebly.
Olivia snorted. “Right,” she said, loading the word down with contempt. “See?”
The door to the chapel opened. The gaunt, small figure of the Rev was clearly visible for a moment, another person right behind him. Then the chapel door shut.
“Was that the boy?” Manfred said.
“Yep.” Olivia thought of sneaking out the back of the house to give Lewis a flat tire, but that would only mean he’d stay in Midnight longer. “If he’d come by himself,” she said, “I could have taken care of this whole situation.”
She expected Manfred to say something angry and decisive, but when she glanced over at him, he just looked exasperated. “Because finding his car here, and Lewis missing, would sure let me off the hook,” he said, in the manner of one speaking to an idiot.
“Of course I would take care of the car,” she snapped. She was offended at the suggestion she could not make someone disappear in a professional manner.
“But he didn’t come by himself, because he doesn’t really want to talk to me person-to-person,” Manfred pointed out. “He wants to rant at me in front of a witness, to emphasize how terribly I exploited his poor sainted mother. He wants to ruin me, because his mother turned to me when she’d reached the end of her tether with him.”
“Okay, Mr. Insightful, so what’s our next step? By the way, knowing why he’s doing it doesn’t really help a lot.”
Manfred looked down. He appeared to be counting to ten. Olivia smiled.
“We still have to get the jewelry back,” Manfred said. “And I think we have to show that it was there all the time. Then he’ll have no more excuse to harass me. Or if