Free Night Shift by Charlaine Harris Page B

asked.
    “Not a thing, unless you know something I don’t know.”
    “Teacher just stopped in for a visit?”
    They both knew how unlikely that was. “Right,” Fiji said, laughing. She was holding the phone to her ear with one hand while she put a bookmark into an Anne Rice novel with the other. “No, his truck broke down, and it’s beyond his power to fix so he’s in a state about it. Plus, he had an appointment in Killeen tomorrow and now he can’t go.”
    “Killeen? Huh. I have to go to Killeen tomorrow. I should give him a call.”
    Manfred didn’t sound too excited about it.
    Fiji said, “He won’t know, if you don’t spread it around. I guess you two aren’t soul mates?”
    “It just seems so random,” Manfred said. “That he should need to go where I’m going. And that it should also be somewhere I’ve never gone.”
    “Got your spidey-sense tingling?”
    “Yes,” Manfred said.
    “Don’t call him, then,” she advised. “It won’t kill him to wait a few days until his truck is fixed. Killeen will still be there.”
    “I’ll think about it,” Manfred said. “I feel like I owe him for fixing my sink. He came over at ten at night after he’d closed the convenience store. That was kind of above and beyond the call of duty. Okay, well, glad nothing’s wrong with your water heater, or your plumbing.”
    “Me, too.”
    “Hey, I got a couple of bottles of that pinot grigio you like so much. It was on sale. Want me to bring one over? We can talk about the state of the world.”
    “Sure, come on. We just cleaned up after supper, but there are some leftovers if you’re hungry.”
    “Nah, I’ve eaten. But I’m walking over with the wine.”
    Fiji put down her phone and said, “Kiki, let’s put out those cheese straws in a bowl.”
    “Company’s coming?” Kiki said, trying not to sound too eager. Kiki’s face lit up at the prospect of having someone else to talk to besides her sister. Truth be told, Fiji felt the same way.
    “Manfred, and he’s bringing wine. So if you could get out some glasses? They’re on the second shelf of that cabinet.” Fiji pointed.
    Thirty minutes later, the three of them were sitting around the wicker table in the shop portion of the house. Fiji had rolled her office chair around the counter for the third seat.
    She understood that the conversation was stilted, but she didn’t really know how to cut the thread of awkwardness. She and Manfred had a comfortable relationship. Adding Kiki to the mix had put in roadblocks.
    Oh, her sister could have a conversation . . . the famous people she’d “happened” to meet, the odd customers who’d come into the mall clothing store where she worked. The punch line of each story was (always) Kiki setting them straight in their opinions and life styles with a pithy phrase or put-down.
    Manfred was very polite about the lopsided conversation. He could say “Really?” or “You did not!” as well as the next person.
    But Fiji became more and more embarrassed. Finally, she was compelled to stem the tide. At the next pause in the monologue, she jumped in. “Why are you going to Killeen, Manfred? Do you have a private reading there?”
    He smiled ruefully. “Yes, but a nonpaying one. I won’t tell you the whole long story, but I owe my lawyer one. You remember Magdalena, I’m sure.”
    “She’s dating Arthur Smith now, isn’t she? You’re just a cupid, Manfred!”
    He made a mock-modest face, and bowed.
    “The sheriff and his lawyer sort of knew each other, but Manfred brought them together,” Fiji said in an aside to her sister.
    Kiki had taken the change of subject with good grace, and was doing her best to look interested. Possibly she’d remembered conversation is a two-way street.
    “Tomorrow I’m giving Magdalena’s mom a private reading. The first time we scheduled it, her mom had to cancel. But tomorrow, I’m driving to Killeen to clear the board.” He said this with more relief than Fiji would