'No, you didn't.' Rich shifted in his chair, looked at his brother. 'I know this is some pretty scary shit, but...'
'But what.'
'Look, there's no such thing as the Laughing Man, okay? Just drop it.
That's kid stuff. And it's not going to help us out here.'
'Kid stuff? You saw him too, Richie. You saw him when
Morn died. You heard him.'
'No, I didn't.'
'The hell you didn't. Who was that then, huh? Who did we see out there?'
'Look, we were both under a lot of stress.'
'We saw the Laughing Man. You know it and I know it.' Robert stood.
'And I heard him again last night.' 'Bullshit.'
'Oh. You believe in vampires, but you don't believe in the Laughing Man. You're picking and choosing your monsters, huh?'
'We have bodies that have been drained of blood. We have no proof of the Laughing Man.'
'We have me. I saw him. I heard him.'
'Medusa Syndrome,' Rich said, looking straight at his brother.
'That's not it.' ....... 'No? It was when Emily saw Elvis steal her daughter. It was when Mike was living in a septic tank. It was when Sophocles Johnson was making underwear clothes.'
'It's not the same.'
'It's exactly the same.'
'Fuck you.' The phone rang, two rings, an outside call, and Robert reached over and picked up the receiver. 'Carter.' He glared at Rich.
'Yes,' he said. 'Yes.' He put his hand over the mouthpiece. 'It's Cash.'
Rich nodded disgustedly. 'Fine.' He walked outside to wait in the hall.
The old lady was nothing like he thought she would be. Robert didn't know what he'd expected--a wise, saintly Buddha-esque guru, he supposed, or maybe a smug condescending know-it-all--but he had definitely not been prepared for this mild old woman who sat on an overturned plastic bucket shelling peas.
She looked like a turtle, he thought. Her face was wrinkled her almond-shaped eyes unblinking, and her small fragile head looked as though it could be recessed into her body on its retractable neck. She spoke no English at all beyond the word 'Hi,' and all communication was directed through Sue, who translated for both sides, but Robert was surprised at how much respect he immediately had for this old lady.
There was something in her soft, almost musical voice, in the matter-of-fact way in which she continued to shell the peas as she spoke, that gave him a feeling of confidence in her. When he looked over at Rich, he could tell from his brother's expression that he felt the same way. Sue's parents had ignored them as they'd walked through the kitchen to the back of the restaurant, continuing their cooking chores as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening, as though this sort of thing occurred all the time. Robert found himself wondering if they knew about the vampire at all, or if this was some thing between grandmother and granddaughter.
Rich did most of the talking asking questions and writing down the answers in his little notebook, but finally the old lady turned to face him. She said something to Sue, and the young woman translated. 'She wants to know why Pee Wee Nelson is not with you. She calls him the 'tall man.' '
Robert shrugged. 'Should he be here?'
'My grandmother wants him to make baht gwa, a mirror. She says we need it to right the cup hugirngsi.' Sue paused. 'She dreamed of Pee Wee the other night.'
Robert didn't know what dreaming about Pee Wee had to do with anything, but he knew enough not to say so. 'What kind of mirror is it?' he asked.
'A mirror with eight sides.' Sue spoke rapidly in Chiand the old lady nodded, tracing an octagon in the nese, air.
'You want us to bring him over here?'
Sue spoke again in Chinese; again the old lady nodded. 'Yes.'
'Does she know where the vampire is? Does she want to... ride around with us? We can take her to the spots where he struck, where he killed people. Maybe she can get some vibes or something from that.'
Sue translated, and the grandmother smiled, revealing small stained teeth. She spoke rapidly to her granddaughter, and at length. 'It does not work that way,' Sue explained. 'Di Lo Ling Gum does not depend on the material world. It does not matter where she is. She can learn as much sitting here as she can seeing the bodies of the dead. When she is to know the cup hugirngsi's lair; it will be revealed to her.'
'Isn't there any way to, push it along?'
Sue shook her head. 'I already asked her that. She says no.'
'So more people could die?' 'More people will die.'
'And there's nothing we can do?'
'Tell them to protect themselves. Tell them to wear jade. Tell them to place willow branches on their doors and windows.'
'But there's no way to know where he will strike again?'
Sue translated, her grandmother answered, and she shook her head.
'No.'
'Will you come with us to the town council meeting on Thursday?' Rich asked. 'Will you tell this to the council, so we can come up with some type of civil defense measures?'
This time, Sue did not even have to ask her grand mother. 'Yes,' she said. 'We'll come.'
Corrie sat in her car across the street from Taco Bell, looking through the front windows at Rich and that slut, sitting across from each other at one of the tables and eating. Jesus had been right. Rich was slipping it to that Oriental whore. No wonder he'd been so eager to get rid of her, to pack her off to a new job so he could set up his little teaching scare and pick up a young bimbo.
Of course Jesus had been right, she told herself. Could
Jesus ever be wrong?
No.
She knew that now.
But there had been some doubt. What interest could the Son of God possibly have in the minutiae of ordinary lives like hers and Rich's?
Why would He spend His valuable time playing fortune-teller for her when He could be ending world hunger and revealing the cure for cancer?
It was blasphemy to think that way.
She stared at the Taco Bell window. Behind the hot pink words painted on the glass that advertised the 'Fiesta Deal,' she saw Rich laugh, nod. In her mind, she saw him going down on her, burying his face between her legs and licking her wet pussy while the slut moaned and thrashed beneath him, her slitty eyes closed in ecstasy.
He would pay for his adultery.
And she would definitely pay. Jesus hated chinks. He had reserved a special place in hell for those slant-eyed heathens. And there was no way the Son of God would tolerate this sort of harlotry in the town of His rebirth.
Corrie smiled to herself. A month ago, a week ago even, if she had learned of her husband's unfaithfulness, it would have devastated her. tut she was stronger now. The Lord had given her strength.
Let them do what they wanted. Let them consort in public. Let them fuck in the middle of the street for all she cared.
She would have the last laugh.
I Jesus would see to that.
She took her hands off the steering wheel, pressed them together, closed her eyes, and began to pray.
The Rio Verde Town Council met on the third Thurs day of every month.
More than one council member over the past few years had tried to get the meeting day switched from Thursday to Tuesday since Thursday was a good night for TV. But the mayor, who owned Desert Ac cess Gable, and Councilman Jones, who was the manager of Radio Shack, had always successfully defeated such efforts, citing
