The Evil Inside

They had another witness! But the witness they’d once had was dead!

“That’s the way of our church, Miss Duffy,” Michael, Sr., said. “We don’t condemn those who leave. We just hope that they’ll return.”

Jenna nodded. “I understand.” She stood. “Michael, for now, please, don’t say this to anyone else.”

Alice Newbury stood in fear. “You-you think this could put our boy in danger?”

“I just think that you should remain silent for now. I won’t tell anyone who will let it out of our realm of investigation, and you should just keep quiet, too,” Jenna told them.

Michael, Sr., looked at his wife. “She’s saying yes, Alice. Mr. Sedge is dead. Accident, my foot. We’ll keep silent, Miss Duffy. Just as you say.”

“I’m always silent at school,” Michael, Jr., told her gravely.

“That’s a wise move,” Jenna told him.

“Oh, the kids would never hurt me. I just don’t want to be accused of giving any of them the evil eye.”

“Were you there when it happened?” Jenna asked him.

He nodded.

“And what did you think?”

He hesitated and shrugged. “I think David might have believed that’s what happened. But I know that he’d gotten called down a few days before-actually, by Mr. Andres. Mr. Andres really berated him for being so mean to Malachi. And Mr. Andres…well, he had a way of yelling at kids-well, not really yelling-but of making you feel really bad about what you did wrong. You know, he just had the right words, I guess. And that’s what he did with David Yates. So, maybe, when it happened, David was feeling guilty?”

“Maybe,” Jenna agreed.

Michael, Jr., smiled at her. “I feel bad for him, really. I know he uses his dad’s influence all the time to be kind of like a big man, but I think he believes sometimes that his dad doesn’t help him enough. You know, he probably just wants more attention from the guy.”

“Michael, you seem to be wise beyond your years,” Jenna said, and he flushed.

She thanked them again, shaking hands with the three of them. “If anyone asks me, I’ll just say that I was doing a routine interview, that you were polite and cooperative but couldn’t offer anything of consequence.”

“Thank you,” Michael, Sr., told her.

Jenna hurried to her car, anxious to see the others.

Sam and Jackson stood at the door to the Sedge home. Sam carried a large basket with a smoked ham and an array of sides for the family; he and Jackson had decided that bearing food was the right thing to do-and that it was their way in, as well.

An attractive woman in her thirties, her expression drawn and her eyes tearstained, opened the door. She appeared to expect people but frowned when she saw them, not recognizing them as neighbors she knew.

“Our deepest condolences,” Sam said.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting their offering. “I assume you’re friends of my husband, Ricky? I mean, forgive me, I don’t know you.”

“We were actually affiliated with Milton,” Sam said. “And I know that it’s a horrible time, but…”

Her eyes widened suddenly. “You’re the attorney!”

“Sam Hall, yes,” he admitted, expecting the door to slam in his face. It didn’t.

“My husband will want to see you,” she said, staring at Jackson.

“My colleague, Jackson Crow,” Sam explained quickly.

She nodded and opened the door wider. “Please come in. Neighbors are here-and my mom is out back with the kids-but Ricky is in his office. I’ll show you right in.”

Ricky Sedge was behind his desk in his den, a small room with shelves that held books and trophies and pictures-family pictures. Sam winced inside, wishing he didn’t have to cause the man more pain. It was evident that his had been a close-knit family; most of the pictures were family shots, many of Milton Sedge holding two little boys, many with Sedge and his wife, and several of various weddings, two older couples with the next generation of Sedges.

Ricky Sedge had been sitting there, squeezing an exercise ball with a vengeance when they walked in.

He stood, surprised, and looked at his wife.

“This is the attorney, Mr. Hall, Ricky. And his associate, Mr. Crow. I thought that you’d want to talk to them.”

He stood and, to Sam’s surprise, he seemed pleased to see him. He was glad. He’d half suspected that even if Sedge believed that his father had been murdered, he’d want to blame Sam. He was the one pursuing the case others thought was sewn up, after all.

“Finally! Someone who might believe me!” Ricky Sedge said, indicating a couple of small chairs in the room. “Sorry, sorry, about the space. It’s kind of a full house…Margery is dealing with all those trying to help. People don’t realize that sometimes you’ve got to be alone. Although, I guess it’s good to keep the kids occupied-they loved their Papa Milty.”

Sam and Jackson took seats.

“Mr. Sedge-” Jackson began.

“Call me Ricky, please. Every time I hear Mr. Sedge, I see my father.”

“Ricky,” Sam said quietly. “I understand you found your father.”

“I found him. Yes. I made a mess in all the olive oil, trying to revive him. But, of course, he was cold as ice,” Ricky said.

“And you called it in as a homicide,” Jackson said.

Ricky Sedge hesitated a minute. “You know, sure, it looks like an accident. Unless you knew my father. He was a careful, honest, really good man. He would have never allowed those tins to be set up in a display that would have just fallen down on its own. When I say that to anyone else, they just want to pat my back and tell me that time will heal my wounds. And that the store was fairly dark, so accidents can happen, especially to the elderly. But my dad was in good shape, and he had great eyesight. Said he couldn’t read a menu anymore without his glasses, but he could spot a bird in the sky a mile away. He didn’t just walk into those tins of olive oil. Someone was in that store. Thing is, the police don’t believe me-they just want to pat me on the back, too.”

“What about a security tape?” Sam asked.

Ricky groaned. “Dad didn’t have a security camera. He said that if someone needed groceries that badly, then they were probably hungry. The clerks knew all the neighborhood kids, and they knew how to catch the petty little gum-stealers. Dad ran a real family business.” He leaned forward, studying both men. “Can you make someone pay attention? Dad was the only one who was going to swear that Malachi Smith didn’t kill Earnest Covington. He was killed because he’d be willing to swear that up and down in a court of law!”

Sam let out a breath. “That’s what I believe, too,” he said. “And I’m so sorry.”

Ricky Sedge lowered his head for a moment. Then he looked Sam in the eyes. “You don’t have to be sorry. My dad believed in honesty and justice, and he wouldn’t have changed what he had to say, no matter what. You didn’t kill him. But if you want to help, find out who did. Make the police realize that he was murdered, and find out who did. Make sure that they do face justice. That’s what I want! That’s what my family needs. Don’t let my father have died in vain for doing the right thing.”

Jenna looked into the wine bar, but none of the others had arrived. She went back out into the pedestrian throughway and decided that she’d catch Will’s magic show and see how he was doing.

Will had a little girl with him up on his impromptu stage. He was pulling quarters out of her ear and delighting the crowd.

He caught her eye. She frowned as she saw him jerk his head to the left.

Looking over at the edge of the crowd, she saw that he was indicating someone who was slowly drifting away from the scene.

Someone wearing the horned god costume.

She nodded to Will in acknowledgment.

The horned god moved away, toward the road. She waited. He moved again, and she followed.