“He’s put up a wall around almost every aspect of his life. I can’t help thinking he’s hiding something behind it.”
“He’s not a warm man,” Jo said. She cleared the files from Cork’s side of the bed and set them on the nightstand. “And granted, he’s odd in a lot of ways, but that doesn’t make him capable of the kind of things you want to ascribe to him.”
Cork pulled out a pair of red jogging shorts and put them on. “I haven’t ascribed anything to him. But I don’t think anybody in Aurora really knows Fletcher Kane. I don’t think anybody knows what he is or isn’t capable of doing.”
Jo spoke carefully. “I’m not saying he’s innocent, but I do think that if all you’re looking for is the bad in someone, that’s all you’re going to see.”
The image of the snakes on Fletcher Kane’s lawn that afternoon still haunted Cork. He was sure that what he’d seen was simply a trick of the light as the wind passed through the long grass in the shadows under the cedars, but the unsettling feel of it lingered.
“There was one thing odd about the phone records,” he said. “Two calls were made from Mayor Lipinski’s place.”
“Not so odd,” Jo said. She took off her glasses and set aside the papers in her hand. “Wilfred and Edith had a New Year’s Eve party. We were invited, remember? We declined. The calls were probably a couple of teenagers who’d been dragged to the party at the Lipinskis’ but were more interested in the one at Valhalla.”
“Probably,” Cork said. He eyed the stack of folders Jo had moved to the nightstand. “What’s that?”
“I’m going over all the statements given by the kids who were at Charlotte’s party that night, looking for anything I didn’t catch earlier. This is the umpteenth time. I think I can recite each one word for word by now.”
“See anything?”
She shook her head.
“Going to brush my teeth,” Cork said. “Be right back.”
He went into the bathroom and began brushing. He’d done only half the chore when a thought occurred to him. He hurried back to the bedroom.
“What if it wasn’t a teenager who made those calls?” he said.
Jo looked up from the papers in her hands. “An adult, you mean? What? Calling to check on a child she knew was at an unchaperoned party in the middle of the woods?”
“Not calling as a parent,” Cork said. “Calling as a lover.”
Jo thought about it. “Charlotte’s married man? That might be a stretch.”
“We won’t know unless we pursue it.”
Jo spent a few more moments weighing the possibility. “How do we check it out?”
“We need some information. The names of any teenagers at the Lipinskis’ party, and the guest list. You’re on the library board with Edith. Why don’t you call and ask her?”
“I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”
Cork went back to the bathroom and finished with his toothbrush. He knew Jo was right, that if all you looked for was the bad in someone, that’s all you’d see. Maybe his motive for focusing on Fletcher Kane wasn’t the purest, but that didn’t mean he was wrong in his suspicions.
Cork smiled into the mirror. His teeth, at least, were clean.
24
The next miracle occurred the following morning and could have been predicted, Cork thought.
Deputy Cy Borkmann accosted Cork the moment he walked into the Pinewood Broiler for coffee and the news of the day.
“You hear about the healing?”
Cork was on his way to a stool at the counter. “What healing, Cy?”
Borkmann waddled along beside him and placed as much of his oversize posterior as he could on the stool next to Cork.
“Somebody got hold of the blanket Solemn’s been sleeping on. Used it to cure a blind man.”
“Whoa,” Cork said. He signaled Sara and asked for coffee.
“Start at the beginning, Cy.”
“This morning just after sunrise, folks started gathering in the park across from the jail, the way they been doing every morning. When there’s a good number gathered, a guy shows up with a folded blanket, and he says it’s Winter Moon’s, from his jail cell. He says, ‘Does anybody want to be healed?’
“From what I gather, nobody got much excited at first. Finally Grover Buck speaks up.”
“Grover Buck? He’s the blind man who got healed?”
“I know,” Borkmann said. “There’s a lot not to like about old Grover, but he’s sure as shit been blind since the mine accident. Got himself that settlement and all. Well, Grover speaks up and says he might as well give it a try. The guy walks over to him, hands him the folded blanket, and Grover wraps it around his face. At first, nothing much. Grover says, ‘Well, maybe I can see some flashes of light.’
“ ‘Down on your knees,’ the guy tells him, ‘and pray to the Lord for a miracle.’ Grover falls to his knees and starts praying, and in a minute he pulls that blanket away from his face and he’s got tears streaming down his stubbly cheeks and he says, ‘I can see. Praise the Lord, I can see.’
“Now anybody knows Grover knows he ain’t the most holy man on God’s earth, nor the most trustworthy. But the guy with the blanket holds up his hand in front of Grover’s face and says, ‘What do you see?’ And Grover says, ‘Three fingers,’ and he’s right. The guy takes a red bandana from his pocket and says, ‘Now what do you see?’ Grover says, ‘It’s a hanky. And it’s red. By Jesus, it’s red.’
“Well, that got folks interested. The next healing really got them going.”
“There were two healings?”
“That’s what I’m here to tell you. You know Marge Shembeckler?”
“Don’t tell me her arthritis was cured.”
“The woman got up from her wheelchair and walked. First time in years. After that, folks swarmed all over the guy with the blanket. He starts cutting it into little pieces couple inches square and selling each square for twenty dollars. As the blanket gets smaller, the price goes up. I heard that the pieces come out of the last couple feet were selling for a couple hundred dollars. Whoever that guy was, he made a killing.”
“The blanket, it did come from Solemn’s cell?”
“Yep. Sheriff’s all hot under the collar about that. Shouldn’t be too hard to pin down who took it, though. Not a lot of folks in and out of there at night.”
Sara set a cup of coffee in front of Cork and he thanked her.
“A shame,” Cork said. “Taking advantage of people like that.”
“You don’t believe in miracles?”
“Have you taken a good look at that crowd? Those are desperate people, Cy, ripe for a con. Is Arne going to investigate?”
“He put Gooding on it.”
Cork left the Broiler and headed to the sheriff’s department to see Solemn. The sun was high already and the day felt like a scorcher. In the park across the street, there was singing and praying and a lot of movement, as if all those bodies were charged with electricity, with possibility and hope.
When Solemn was let into the interview room, he offered Cork a smile that seemed to be missing the glory that lately had illumined it.
“Morning, Solemn.”
“Hey, Cork.”
“They treating you well?”
“No complaints.” He took a chair and sat down at the table across from Cork.
“You know about the blanket?”
