“So noted. Her bedroom would be the most likely, since she would be fairly sure he wouldn’t come in if she was around. He’d be in the kitchen pretty often, getting a drink or a snack. The downstairs hall bathroom would be out, since he’d use it regularly. Not the dining room or the formal living room downstairs. I’d put the probabilities in this order: her bedroom, her bathroom, Morton’s office next door, then the kitchen, then the other downstairs rooms, then the empty upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms, then outside in the yard.”

Manfred nodded. “That all makes sense. So what do we do?”

“I break and enter,” Olivia said. “If I get lucky, we’re home free. If not, I’ll do some reconnaissance. Based on that, I’ll make a plan. I don’t think Lewis would accuse you if he were in possession of the jewels. They’d be part of the estate, and he’d get at least a third of the value of them in due course, if she divided her assets into three parts. I’m sure Rachel did hide them, as she told you, and I’m also sure he hasn’t found them yet. But you can bet he’ll try, when he realizes you really don’t have them. Maybe he’s just blaming you for their disappearance so he doesn’t have to share them with his sisters.”

Without further words, she was up and at the back door. She cracked it slightly and peered outside. No one had come into the backyard; evidently the sheriff’s threats had been effective.

“You know,” she said over her shoulder, “the easiest way out of this would be to kill Lewis.”

“I’d much rather you didn’t,” Manfred said.

Olivia raised one shoulder and let it fall. “All right.” Just as quickly as she’d arrived, Olivia departed, vanishing up the steps and into the side door of the pawnshop like smoke.

9

The Rev strode down Witch Light Road, Diederik at his heels. The boy was washed and groomed. Joe smiled from his shop window. It had been a long time since he’d been around a person so young, and he found it made him feel happy. The Rev was making his usual beeline to the Wedding Chapel and Pet Cemetery at his usual time.

Hurrying out the shop door, Joe caught up with the ill-assorted duo just as the Rev mounted the steps to the chapel. “Good morning,” he said, and the Rev turned to give Joe a brisk nod. Diederik smiled. He looked like a different child with his hair brushed and his clothes clean, not to mention a scrubbed face. “Fiji?” Joe said, and the Rev nodded stiffly.

“She came by last night with some clothes for the boy,” the Rev said. “They seem to fit.”

“I like them,” Diederik said. He had a marked accent, though Joe wasn’t sure where he’d acquired it. Not Spanish or Russian, the two accents Joe knew the best.

“Rev, I wondered if you could spare Diederik this morning,” Joe said, carefully. “Chuy and I could use some help in the store, and we’d enjoy having a visitor.”

The Rev considered. “He’s under my care,” he said warningly. “You know what that means.”

“Yes, sir, I know,” Joe said. “And we will protect him as though he were our own.”

The Rev nodded. “Then keep him close and call me if anything arises. I will come by for him.” With no further ado, the older man in his rusty black turned his back on them and entered the chapel, the weathered brown door closing behind him with a thunk.

Diederik looked up at Joe. The boy seemed a little worried.

“You haven’t met my friend Chuy,” Joe said. “You’ll like him. Our shop is back this way.” They walked west on Witch Light Road, and then across it to the north side.

“Chuy, look who I brought with me,” Joe called as they came in.

“Good,” Chuy said. He was bent over the manicure station working on a customer. Joe was not too surprised to find that Fiji was getting her nails done, though that was a rare occurrence. “Chuy, this is Diederik,” Joe said formally. “And you remember Miss Fiji?”

Fiji just happened to have brought a basket of muffins and a thermos of orange juice with her. When she offered some to Diederik, his whole face lit up. “We had oatmeal at the Rev’s house,” the boy said in his oddly accented English. “It was fine,” he added politely. “But these are very good. And thank you for my clothes.”

Fiji smiled. “Glad you like the muffins and the clothes.” Chuy was painting her nails a creamy light orange, and after Diederik had consumed a muffin, he came close to watch. He was fascinated by the process. “Does your mom get manicures?” Chuy asked.

“I never saw her do that,” the boy said. He looked suddenly, profoundly unhappy.

“How old are you, Diederik?” Fiji said instantly, trying to erase the unhappiness.

“I am not as old as I look, but we grow up faster than . . .” The boy hesitated. “Most people,” he finished.

“You look like you’re about ten years old,” Fiji said, smiling. Then she looked at him again. “Or maybe older,” she added.

“Oh! I’m not.” Diederik laughed, but he also looked a little anxious.

Joe noticed that the boy had dodged saying whether he was older or younger, and he had to respect the boy’s privacy, though he was just as curious as Fiji. They glanced at each other; Joe understood that she would not question the boy further.

After Joe had finished Fiji’s manicure, he asked Diederik to sweep up around the station after wiping it down, and Diederik jumped at the chance to be useful. This was a boy who really wanted to be busy, a boy who wasn’t used to sitting idle, much less kneeling in the bleak chapel with the Rev in meditation. Joe made a mental note to suggest to the Rev it was probably time to weed the pet cemetery and do the lawn mowing and bush trimming behind the chapel in the confines of the high fence. The pet cemetery was the prettiest place in Midnight, aside from Fiji’s yard, which always had flowers in bloom except in the dead of winter.