Maybe the old coot was right. Maybe Malachi was on his way. I went ahead and left her there, sleeping in her oversized chair, but it wasn’t because I was afraid of him. I’m afraid of some things—spiders, drowning, needles, and the like. But I’m not afraid of Malachi. He simply isn’t intimidating, even with his True Faith to bolster his aggression. He hides behind God and guns, and ineptly at that. It can’t have been more than luck that caused him to kill Terry. He was a terrible shot when I was a kid, and I didn’t think he’d spent much time practicing his aim in prison.

It must be hard for him. He believed so firmly that he was right, and that his mission was blessed, but he failed at every turn. What did it say about him that he tried so hard? He was either very devout or very stupid, I figured. More likely a sampling of both.

I almost felt like I owed him fear. He’d worked so hard to kill me, the least I could do was be just a tad nervous. But no. I couldn’t muster it. The best I could do was summon up a healthy sense of caution, and toss him a minor, grudging respect for his persistence.

Tatie would certainly tell him I’d been to see her, but I hadn’t given her any indication of where I might be headed, so it wasn’t as if she could point him my way. She might be able to guess about the cemetery because of my questions, but beyond the cemetery, even I didn’t know where I was going. I was almost disappointed that my quest had ended so quickly. I hadn’t found all my answers, but I had found my father. That was more than I might have expected.

As for Avery and his mysterious book, it might be better to decide that Lulu was right and it didn’t matter. Let the dead who can sleep lie undisturbed.

I cast the police a backwards glance on my way out. They did not make any indication that they saw me, cared about me, or intended to pursue me. I half imagined them as uniformed ostriches with their heads in the sand: If we don’t see you, you don’t see us. I hoped they stayed right where they were and caught my wayward cousin-brother, if only to make a liar out of Eliza.

As for me and the Death Nugget, we headed up the hill in the dark.

The cemetery was on the right, enclosed by a low iron fence with a broken gate. I parked beside it and rummaged around in my trunk until I found the huge flashlight I kept for emergencies or for afterhours excursions.