'Listen, you want to come by for dinner tonight after work?'
'Can't. I'm busy.'I 'We'll eat late.'
Robert looked at his brother. 'How come you never come over to my house? How come I always have to go over to yours?'
'Okay, forget it, then.
'No, I'm serious. Why?'
Rich shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other,
'We're closer to town.' +=
'That's not it and you know it.'
'You ever thought of getting a dog or a cat? Something to keep you company?'
+ 'Stop changing the subject.'
'That is the subject. It' always seems so so lonely out at Mom's place.
'My place.'
'Your place. See? Even after all this time, I still think of it as Mom's.' 'You two used to come over when Julie was there.'
Rich forced himself to smile. 'We'll come over sometime this month, all right? We'll have a barbecue.' 'I'm not trying to force you.'
'Let's not start that crap.'
Robert smiled tiredly. 'Okay, okay. We'll talk about it later.' He opened his car door. 'I'd better get back, check in, see who else has been murdered.'
'That's not funny.'
'No, it's not.' i 'Have you gone by Billy's garage sale lately?'
'You know I avoid that eyesore like the plague.'
'You ought to check out what he's selling.'
Robert ran a hand through his hair. Billy Gurdy had had a garage sale every weekend for the past twenty years. The rows of tables set up on the dirt in front of the ramshackle hut he called home were permanent, and although everyone knew that referring to his open-air thrift store as a 'garage sale' was just a way to get out of paying for a business license, no one ever called him on it. He was poor enough as it was---and as old as God to boot and if it made him happy to circumvent county statutes by hawking his wares in front of his house each Saturday and Sunday, well, what was the harm in that?
Rich had always liked Billy, although Robert couldn't stand him. Rich claimed that it was because the old man had caught Robert stealing prickly pears off his cactus back when he was in junior high, and Robert had to admit that there might be something to that.
'I'll bite,' Robert said. 'What's he selling?'
'Vampire kits.'
'Vampire kits?'
'Shoeboxes filled with cloves of garlic and popsicle stick crosses.'
'Jesus.' 91.1
'He told me he's sold over thirty of them already.'
'You going to do a story on it?'
'You're the one who thinks there's a monster out there.'
'Oh, it's my fault Billy's an opportunistic con artist.'
'That's not what I said, and you know
'Okay, I'll go by and talk to him,'
'I think you should.'
Robert got in the cruiser, closed the door, and rolled down the window.
He looked up at his brother. 'You want to do an editorial for me on unwanted federal intervention in local law enforcement?'
'No, but you're free to write a letter.'
'That's what I thought.' He started the engine.
'Later'
'See you.'
He backed out of the newspaper office's parking lot and headed toward the highway.
Corrie pulled up in front of the church, turned off the ignition, and sat for a moment in the ear, watching the other parishioners file in.
Rich had refused to let Anna her today, and while she'd been angry and accompany argued with him, a part of hera deep maternal part of her was also relieved, and she had not pressed the point as strongly as she could have. She was mad at Rich, but in a roundabout way, she was grateful to him for having taken the responsibility away from her.
She watched as Whit Stasson's family entered the church together. The crowd had thinned from a flood to a trickle, so Corrie exited the car and hurried into the church, afraid that she might be late, that she might miss part of the sermon.
The services were getting more crowded. More people were attending each week.
Maybe the Pastor Clan Wheeler had put the fear of God into them.
Wheeler emerged from the vestibule only seconds after she'd found a seat, and, without preface, he began speaking. As always the smooth oratorical tones of his melodious voice filled the church. Gorrie heard the words, understood their meaning, but at the same time was lulled by the voice.
' 'Now could I drink hot blood,' ' the pastor quoted. 'That's what Jesus said after throwing the moneylenders from the temple. 'Now could I drink hot blood. And do such bitter business as the day would quake to look on.' '
Corrie blinked, sitting up straight. That wasn't the Bible she realized. That was Shakespeare. Harlgl. That wasn't what Jesus said after throwing the moneylenders from the temple, it was what Hamlet said after the play he'd staged confirmed that his uncle had killed his father. A chill passed through her, and for a brief second she considered standing up, walking out, walking out but as she looked up at the preacher in the pulpit, he smiled beatifically at her, and suddenly it didn't seem to matter. The Bible, Ha/, what difference did it make? It was the words that were important, not their source.
Something seemed wrong with that too, something about that line of reasoning didn't seem right, but she couldn't concentrate, couldn't think why.
She sat through the rest of the sermon, through the construction update, through the hymns, and got up to leave with everyone else. She walked slowly out of the chapel, and from the addition, she heard the sound of the new children's choir practicing. Innocent young voices singing the song Pastor Wheeler had had her type earlier in the weel
Jesus loves blood this I know For the Bible tells me so
Corrie shivered and walked out to the car, glad that Rich had not allowed Anna to come to church. She would not right him on that anymore, she decided.
From now on, if their daughter did not want to go to church, she did not have to go.
Yes, Jesus loves blood! Yes, Jesus loves blood! Yes, Jesus loves blood! The Bible tells me so!
Wheeler, standing on the church steps, waved to her as she pulled away from the curb and headed for home.
The humidity was going to go up tomorrow. Terry Clif- could feel it in his bad leg. The damn thing hurt like felt like it was a fucking pincushion below the knee and it only did that when they were going to have or a real sweat basket motherhumper of a day. There were no rain clouds blocking the stars tonight. When was this unnatural weather going to end? Terry limped down the kitchen steps and hobbled the man-made meadow in back of the main build He heard screams and splashes coming from the pool
Those young California jocks, no doubt, trying to the bimbos they'd brought along on this trip. He irossed the lighted path that led between the buildings and continued in back of the sleeping quarters.
From the io pen window of one of the guest rooms, he heard the ounds of an argument backed by a soundtrack of gunfire from the TV.
Cable, he thought. Now that was a damn brilliant invention. If they'd had cable or satellite TV when he was
