“Why? Maybe because he didn’t want to spend time in court, or because he decided he’d been in the wrong, too? Or maybe he just wants to wait until he can catch this Zane guy alone in an alley and get his own revenge.”

Fiji was practically tapping her foot, waiting for him to finish speaking. “We have to try to find him,” she said, and Manfred threw up his hands.

“Okay! Okay! But we’re not going by ourselves.”

“Olivia,” Fiji said, and the proposed expedition suddenly became a little more interesting to Manfred.

“You think she’d go with us?”

“I think if I ask her the right way, she will,” Fiji said. She looked at her watch. “She’s not going to be up for a while, so I’ll try her this afternoon.”

“What about Lemuel? He’s pretty, uh, capable,” Manfred offered.

“He doesn’t go out much,” Fiji said. “I mean, he only goes out at night, and most nights he’s working in the pawnshop. Besides, he’s too scary and no one would talk to us.”

Manfred did not want to think about this too closely, or at all. “So why do you want to take Olivia?”

Fiji’s eyes went wide. “She’s very good at finding out things,” she replied. “That’s kind of her business. And we’ve got to get a name.”

“Really? What does she do?” Manfred didn’t realize he’d gotten into forbidden territory until he saw Fiji give him a very direct look. “Okay, okay, I overstepped. You ask her. Let me know what she says.”

“I’ll do that.” Fiji went to the door. “I hope the tea helped.”

“Yes, thanks,” he said, rotating his shoulders. “I’m lots better.”

“Great!” Her smile was radiant. “That was Aunt Mildred’s recipe.”

Manfred was almost curious enough to ask what had been in it, but he was afraid to find out. He said, “She must have been a great witch.”

Fiji said, “You have no idea.” She was all cheer when she left. He saw Mr. Snuggly sitting at the edge of her yard, obviously waiting for her. As Manfred watched her cross the road, he saw the sheriff coming down the steps of the pawnshop. Manfred thought of going over to see Bobo to check out what the sheriff had told him, but then he thought twice. As he’d just pointed out to Fiji, Bobo was a grown-up, and he could handle himself.

17

Arthur Smith had found Bobo sitting in his favorite chair, but Bobo was sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his eyes. When he lowered them, he looked exhausted.

“The gun we found down by the river,” the sheriff had said.

Bobo had nodded.

“Came from this pawnshop, according to our records.”

Every gun coming into the shop was entered on the computer and law enforcement had access to all such reports.