embarrassed look.
'There's...' He trailed off, coughed nervously, obviously unsure of how to begin. 'There have been some poisonings in town. Of pets. No one knows who's behind it, but a lot of people seem to think it's the Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association because ... well, for a lot of reasons. Last week, a little boy accidentally ate some poisoned dog food and now he's in a coma in the hospital in Cedar City. Yesterday ...' He looked away, sighed heavily. 'Yesterday, another little boy's body was found in the vacant lot next to his house. He was poisoned and his head was bashed in. Now I'm not saying who did it, and for all I know the sheriff already caught someone who's in custody right now. But because of all this, the decision's been made to cut off all business with Bonita Vista. There's nothing I can do about it. My hands are tied.' This last was said quickly, without pause, almost as though he feared her reaction and was trying to stave off a return assault.
Maureen sat there, stunned. She was tempted to argue with him, to point out that such a policy was discriminatory and probably illegal, but she understood the feelings of the people in town, and to a large extent shared them herself.
She thought of the gate, thought of Ray, thought of all the reasons she and Barry distrusted the homeowners' association, and she could not fault the people of Corban for hating and fearing Bonita Vista.
'I know you're caught in the middle of this,' Harland repeated, 'and, like I said, this really has nothing to do with you--'
Maureen stood, nodded tiredly. 'I understand.'
'We'll pay you your kill fee--'
'I understand.'
Back at home, she checked her E-mail, scrolling down to view the list of messages she'd received that morning. The subject headings were all over the map, but though the specific names were different, the substance of each was the same.
All of her local clients had dropped her.
It was not totally unexpected, not after what had happened at the title company, but it was still overwhelming to see it laid out like this, to witness in cold, flat type such complete rejection.
She didn't even have Frank and Audrey anymore.
She would have laughed if it wasn't so sad, would have cried if it wasn't so infuriating, but instead she just sat there blankly staring at her screen.
He hadn't eaten at the coffee shop for over a week. Barry told himself that it wasn't intentional, that he wasn't avoiding the place, that he'd simply had errands to run and leftovers to get rid of and that a legitimate series of circumstances had led to him eating at home or in his office or even skipping lunch entirely.
But he knew that wasn't the truth.
Today, though, he was determined to return. Things had to have cooled off since last time, and he doubted that there'd be the same tension.
There was no way Hank could stay angry for this long. Joe maybe. Or Lyle. But Hank was more reasonable, more sensible, and since he was their ringleader, Barry knew that the old man would exert a tempering influence and calm everyone down, remind them that Barry was on their side and was one of the good guys.
But he was wrong.
He sensed it the second he walked through the door. A coldness that had nothing to do with the air- conditioning hit him the instant he stepped into the coffee shop, and he didn't need to look around to know that all eyes were upon him. The only noise was the muted sizzling of the grill back in the kitchen and the pl inking of fork on plate as someone at one of the tables continued eating.
He walked self-consciously over to his usual table and sat down, trying not to notice the complete lack of conversation, the air of hostility that overhung the eatery. Lurlene looked over at her father first, getting his okay before angrily slamming down a menu and a glass of water. The water splashed over the table and onto Barry's lap, but he forced himself to smile and keep his voice calm as he picked up the menu and handed it back to the waitress. 'I don't need this, Lurlene .
I'll just have the usual.'
She grabbed the laminated menu from his hand and stormed off without saying a word.
Something had happened since the last time he'd been here. He had no idea what it was, but it had to have been big to engender this kind of anger, and he only wished he knew so he could fight against it.
He used his napkin to wipe up the spilled water and took a sip from the half-filled glass. He was thinking about approaching Hank, just walking over to the old man's table, coming right out and asking what was the matter, when Joe stood up from his place near the counter and strode purposefully over to Barry's table.
Barry wasn't sure how to react, so he just remained where he was, took another sip of water, and watched the other man coming.
Joe faced him squarely. 'Didn't think you'd have the nerve to show your face in here.'
There was anger in his voice. No. Not just anger. Rage.
Barry's heart was pounding. He could not remember the last time he'd gotten into any sort of physical altercation, but he had the feeling that Joe was going to try and goad him into one right here, right now, although he still had no idea why.
He stood but tried to remain relaxed and friendly, though that was getting increasingly hard to do. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Joe. Whatever's happened ...' He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. '... I'm out of the loop. You're going to have to clue me in.'
'Weston Richards,' Joe said, practically spitting out the name.
The man stared at him for a long moment, and Barry shook his head, still unaware of the intended meaning.
'I don't know what this Weston's done,' he said, 'but--'
'Weston didn't do nuthin '!' Lyle shouted from his table near the door.
'He was killed. You guys poisoned him!'
Barry looked toward Hank. 'There was another accident?'
'This weren't no accident,' Hank said, and Barry could see the fury in the old man's eyes. 'They killed that boy on purpose. The Richardses didn't have no dog.'
'And his head was bashed in!' Lurlene glared at him.
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Barry's stomach. 'I don't know anything about this. This is the first I've heard about it.'
Hank nodded. 'That's the problem. No one knows anything about it.'
'But we know who's responsible,' Ralph said from his seat at Lyle's table.
'Look--' Barry tried to be reasonable. '--I hate that stupid homeowners' association as much as you do. More probably because I
have to put up with their shit and abide by their damn rules.'
'But you're still a part of it,' Lyle pointed out. 'You're still a member.'
'I have no choice! If I live there, I have to pay dues!'
'You have a snowplow!' a woman near the window shouted.
Barry looked over at her. She was someone he had not seen before, an overweight woman with an over bite and too-large breasts, and he didn't understand either her reference to the snowplow or the anger he saw in her eyes. 'What?' he asked her.
'In the winter. You have a snowplow up there. But it's only for Bonita Vista. Our plow broke down last year and we were snowed in for nearly a week. Snowed in! But you wouldn't help us, wouldn't let us use your plow, wouldn't clear off any of our roads!'
'What about the water?' Ralph said quietly.
There were nods all around.
'Look, I wasn't even living here last winter. I'm not involved with the water. I have nothing to do with this Weston thing--'
'Our utility rates went up in town because of all the electricity you use!'
'The runoff from your carved-up hills is contaminating thecrik !'
