An Ice cold Grave Page 0,42

to supply him with a comforting reassurance along the lines of "Don't we all?" or "We miss a lot of Sundays, too." But I didn't say anything. This may have been childish on my part. Tolliver and I don't ever go to church. I don't know what Tolliver believes, at least not in detail. I believe in God; I don't believe in church. Churches give me the cold chills. The only reason I'd been in a church in the past five years was to go to a funeral. Having the body that close was very distracting. It buzzed at me during the whole service. If this had been Jeff McGraw's funeral, rather than a kind of memorial service for all the lost boys, I would never have agreed to come to it.

"Abe Madden is due to speak," Barney Simpson said. "That should be interesting. Sandra hasn't said much, but it's common knowledge that Abe wouldn't pursue the boys' disappearances with anything like the purpose Sandra wanted when she was a deputy. And it's also no secret that's one reason she was elected sheriff."

Barney Simpson gave us a serious nod, his big black glasses reflecting the overhead fluorescents.

"Then I guess it should have a little more controversy than the usual memorial service," Tolliver said. "Our bill is ready, you said? Your computers are back up and running?"

"Yes. We're backing up everything this evening so we won't lose anything in the upcoming ice storm. I guess you've been listening to the weather, like everyone else around here. Did you-all find a place to stay?"

"Yes, we did," I said.

"Back in the motel, I guess. You-all were lucky to find somewhere."

"No," Tolliver said. "They were all out of rooms."

He went over to the window to check on the bill while Barney looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell him where we'd found a place to stay - but I didn't. I wasn't sure why I was being so ornery. A bop on the head will only excuse so much. I forced myself to be polite.

"Is there a Mrs. Simpson?" I asked, though I simply could not have cared less.

"There was," he said, regret tingeing his voice with gray. "We came to a parting of the ways a few years ago, and she and my daughter moved to Greenville."

"So you get to see your daughter sometimes."

"Yes, she comes back to stay with me and visit her junior high buddies every so often. Hard to believe she's in college now. Any children for you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Well, they're a mixed blessing," the administrator said in a consoling voice, as if to assure me I didn't have to grieve at not having any.

I stood and moved over to Tolliver, who was getting a receipt from Britta.

"Could I take you two to supper?" Barney Simpson asked, and we tried not to look too astonished.

Tolliver glanced at me quickly to get my reaction to this very unexpected invitation, and he said, "Thanks, but we already have plans. We appreciate your offer, though."

"Sure, sure."

Britta had closed her window and I could see her silhouette behind the glass as she rose and began putting on her coat.

The hospital was as closed as a hospital gets.

We left then, heading out the front door with the receipt and Simpson's goodbyes. "What a lonely guy," I said.

"He has a thing for you," Tolliver said gloomily.

"He does not." I dismissed the idea without a second glance at it. "He didn't care about me at all. I didn't represent a woman to him, one little bit."

"Then why'd he want to be our best friend?"

"I guess it was the newness of us," I said. "He may not have the chance to meet that many people. I bet his job pretty much holds him down. We're variety."

Tolliver shrugged. "Whatever. Where you want to eat?"

"This is Doraville. What are our choices?"

"It's too cold for Sonic. There's a McDonald's and there's a Satellite Steaks."

"That'll do."

Satellite Steaks was very much like Golden Corral or Western Sizzlin'. On this cold night, with the prospect of a memorial service and bad weather to anticipate, everyone in Doraville had had the same idea. There were some easily identifiable strangers who had to be with the news crews, and there were a lot of locals (who probably didn't come in during the summer tourist season), and there were travelers from the interstate. The place was jammed. Manfred and Xylda were at a table for four. Without consulting Tolliver, I went right