Everyone around the table froze for a moment. But Manfred got the distinct impression this was not news to several of the people at the table.

“But Smith said she wasn’t shot,” Bobo added.

Manfred said, “Great, man. Congratulations.” Then he realized that this was not the happiest wording, and he ate another bite of chicken. This is one of those nights I wish I’d stayed at home and opened a can of soup, he thought.

“What happened to her?” Joe asked Bobo. “Did the sheriff say?”

Manfred glanced up in time to see Bobo shake his head.

“So, you’re in the clear. Why are you so grim?” Olivia asked bluntly.

“Her family doesn’t want me at the funeral.” Bobo looked down at his plate. He mauled a potato with his fork.

Olivia went steely. “They can’t stop you if you want to go,” she said. “We’ll all go.”

Joe leaned forward, looked at each person at the table in turn. His eyes were very serious. “Do we want to make a terrible day worse for them? If Chuy were here, that’s what he’d be saying.”

There was an awkward silence. “No, we don’t want to do that,” Olivia said. “But if Bobo’s been cleared . . .”

“Smith told me he had let them know I didn’t kill her, but that they were still bitter,” Bobo said.

No one had a response to that. Manfred was able to finish his meal in peace.

Lemuel had not come in to sit with them that night. Fiji had taken home enough leftovers from her barbecue meal the night before that she was having her dinner at home. Chuy was visiting his brother in Fort Worth, so Joe had brought Rasta with him to the diner. The dog sat quietly in a compact circle by Joe’s chair. Joe was rigid about no one feeding him from the table.

Shawn Lovell had come in to get three to-go meals, and he’d given everyone a casual wave before carrying the bag of take-out containers back to the service station. Only Manfred, Bobo, Olivia, and Joe were left after the preacher exited.

As he finished his meal, Manfred wondered how Madonna managed to keep the diner doors open. But he was sure glad she did.

“I’m going to Fiji’s class on Thursday night,” he said. “I couldn’t say no. Anyone else want to try it out?”

“Sorry, I’m just not in the mood for strangers,” Bobo said, and Manfred felt a stab of envy that he had a good excuse.

“I have to pack,” Olivia said. “I have an early flight Friday.”

“Chuy is coming back on Thursday,” Joe said. “Sorry, buddy, seems like you’re flying solo.”

“Great,” Manfred said. He had already been kicking himself for agreeing to go to Fiji’s class, which would undoubtedly be all mystical kumbaya and talk of every woman’s inner goddess.