Still Life With Crows

that when old Winifred was a teenager, she was known as the town vamp.”

Pendergast blinked.

Corrie snickered, rolled her eyes. “Yeah, there’s a lot of that going on in Medicine Creek. Like Vera Estrem, who’s doing the wild thing with the Deeper butcher. If her husband ever finds out, there’s going to be blood. Dale Estrem’s the head of the Farmer’s Co-op and he’s the meanest man in Medicine Creek. His grandfather was a German immigrant and during World War II he went back to fight for the Nazis. You can imagine what the town thought of that. The grandfather never returned. Screwed the whole family, basically.”

“Indeed.”

“We’ve got our share of nutcases, too. Like that tinker who comes through here once a year and camps out in the corn somewhere. Or Brushy Jim, who did one tour too many in Vietnam. They say he fragged his lieutenant. Everybody’s just waiting for him to ‘go postal’ one of these days.”

Pendergast had lain back in the seat again. He looked asleep.

“Anyway. There’s the Rexall Drug. That empty building is where the Music Shop used to be. There’s Calvary Lutheran Church. It’s Missouri Synod. The pastor is John Wilbur. A fossilized specimen if ever there was one.”

There was no response from Pendergast.

“We are now passing Ernie’s Exxon. Don’t get your car fixed there. That’s Ernie himself at the pump. His son’s the biggest pothead in Cry County and old Ernie doesn’t have a clue. And that old wooden building is Rasmussen’s, the dry goods store I told you about. Their motto is, ‘If you can’t find it here, you don’t need it there.’ I’ve always wondered where ‘there’ was. There’s the sheriff’s office on the left, but I hardly need to pointthat place out. And there’s Maisie’s on the right. Her meatloaf is just edible. Her desserts would give a hyena the runs. Uh-oh, I knew it. Here he comes.”

Corrie watched in the rearview mirror as the sheriff’s cruiser pulled out of the alleyway, lights flashing.

“Hey,” she said to the motionless Pendergast. “Wake up. I’m getting pulled over.”

But Pendergast seemed sound asleep.

The sheriff came right up behind her and gave his siren a crank. “Please pull off to the side of the road,” his voice rasped through the loudspeaker atop the car. “Remain inside your vehicle.”

It was the same thing that had happened to her at least ten times before, only this time Corrie had Pendergast in the car. She realized the sheriff probably hadn’t seen him, he was sunk so low in the seat. His eyes remained closed even through the siren and the noise. Maybe, she thought, he was dead. He certainly looked dead.

The door of the cruiser flung open and the sheriff came sauntering up, billy club flapping at his side. He placed his meaty palms on the open passenger window and leaned in. When he saw Pendergast, he jerked back abruptly. “Jesus!” he said.

Pendergast opened one eye. “Problem, Sheriff?”

Corrie enjoyed the look that came over the sheriff’s face. His entire face flamed red, from the fuzz-covered folds of skin piled up against his collar to the tops of his hair-clogged ears. She hoped Brad would age just like his father.

“Well, Agent Pendergast,” Hazen said, “it’s just that we don’t allow cruising back and forth through town. This is the third time she’s been through.”

The sheriff paused, obviously awaiting some kind of explanation, but after a long silence it became clear he wasn’t going to get any.

At length, Hazen pushed himself away from the car. “You may go on your way,” he said.

“Since you’ve taken an interest in our movements,” said Pendergast in his lazy drawl, “I should inform you that we’ll be driving through town again, and perhaps even a fifth time, while Miss Swanson shows me the sights. After all, Iam on vacation.”

As Corrie looked at the darkening expression on Sheriff Hazen’s face, she wondered if this so-called Special Agent Pendergast really knew what he was doing. It was no joke making an enemy like Hazen in a town like Medicine Creek. She’d been stupid enough to do it herself.

“Thank you for your concern, Sheriff.” Pendergast turned to her. “Shall we go, Miss Swanson?”

She hesitated a moment, looking at Sheriff Hazen. Then she shrugged.What the hell, she thought, as she accelerated from the curb with a little screech and a fresh cloud of black smoke.

Twelve

 

The sun was settling into a bloody patch of cloud along the horizon as Special Agent Pendergast exited Maisie’s Diner, accompanied by a slender man in a Federal Express uniform.

“They told me I’d find you in there,” the man said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.”

“Quite all right,” Pendergast replied. “I wasn’t especially hungry.”

“If you’ll sign for it now, I’ll leave everything by the back door.”

Pendergast signed the proffered form. “Miss Kraus will show you where to put it all. Would you mind if I take a look?”

“Help yourself. Takes up half the truck.”

The shiny FedEx truck was parked outside the diner, looking out of place on the dusty, monochromatic street. Pendergast peered into its interior. Along one wall were perhaps a dozen large boxes. Some had labels readingPERISHABLE—CONTENTS PACKED IN ICE .

“They’re all from New York,” the driver said. “Starting a restaurant or something?”

“It’s my deliverance from Maisie.”