Callie stood there another few seconds, stammering out protests. Then the man put his arm around her thin shoulders and guided her out of the restaurant. I could hear her talking as they walked down the sidewalk. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but I could tell from her voice that she was crying.

After another few seconds, conversation and the sounds of eating picked back up. Janie leaned over to me with a grin.

“Whatcha say we tee-pee her house tonight?”

Doyle said “I heard that, missy!” in mock outrage.

“Did you get a load of that guy with her?” Janie said. “Blandy McBlandsville, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, I’ve forgotten him already,” Doyle said.

A few people around us laughed.

It was bad. I mean, of course I couldn’t let Callie go around claiming I was consorting with demons, or something. Dorf was a fairly religious town, and if people heard that kind of accusation enough, some of them might start believing it. But Janie’s way of defending me had been over the top. I had profited from it — before Callie came to our table, I’d been the laughing stock, and now the laughing stock was her. I felt like a shit.

Janie got busy chatting up Doyle and didn’t notice how quiet I’d gotten.

We finished up and headed back to the office. Once there, I set about returning the calls on the answering machine, but I didn’t give the task much attention. My mind alternated between feeling guilty over Callie and thinking about the photo.

It was good to know I hadn’t hallucinated the foot — for Christ’s sake, practically half the town had seen the thing.

But there still wasn’t a good explanation for how someone’d managed to create the effect. That was a problem: having been humiliated, Callie would probably be out for blood. She’d be spreading all kinds of crazy ideas about me.

I needed a logical explanation for the photo, and I needed it soon.

What with all the commotion, Janie and I had taken more than an hour’s lunch, which annoyed Dr. Nielsen. I stayed late to make up for it, then headed over to Ben’s house. It was something I hadn’t done in years — just drop by unannounced. Justine had made it clear she didn’t appreciate it.

But this time I actually wanted to see her, not Ben. Maybe if I surprised her with the photo, she’d admit to engineering the prank. Or at least I’d see a hint of guilt or embarrassment on her face.

It was nearing sunset by the time I pulled up in front of my brother’s modest 1930s bungalow. The sun was casting deep shadows across the front yard. It made Justine’s decorative lawn tableau of deer and garden gnomes around a wishing well look sort of sinister.