Free Dream With Little Angels by Michael Hiebert Page B

control you ever had over her. Right now, she’s still askin’, and that’s a good thing. You wanna keep that up as long as possible. So, yes, I say you let her go, and you trust that you’ve done a good enough job these last fourteen odd years that she’s got enough judgment to stay on the good side of stupid. And you don’t check up on her story, no matter how much you’ll want to. That’ll just put her on the spot. That’s the cop in you thinking—not the parent. She’ll be fifteen in a couple months. That’s only two years younger than you were when you had her.”
    â€œWell, that’s exactly my point,” my mother said.
    Uncle Henry shrugged. “You turned out okay. Everything happens for a reason.”
    She laughed. “I was the other side of stupid, that was the reason. The bad side.”
    â€œThat could be.”
    We all laughed then and went back to eating. My thoughts returned to Mr. Wyatt Edward Farrow and something new occurred to me. “Mom? Do you think maybe Mr. Farrow might have snatched up Mary Ann Dailey?”
    Confusion fell over her face. “Now, where in the world would you get an idea like that?”
    â€œWell, he’s just suspicious, is all,” I said. “He’s doin’ somethin’ sneaky.”
    â€œWhy do you think he’s doin’ somethin’ sneaky?” she asked.
    I looked across at Uncle Henry for backup, but he wasn’t even looking at me. “Well, me and Dewey . . . we’ve sorta been watchin’ him, and there’s some disturbin’ things we’ve noticed. You know, he never leaves that garage, not even to go to the bathroom?”
    My mother wiped her mouth and set down her napkin. “How in the Lord’s name would you boys know anythin’ ’bout that man’s bathroom schedule?”
    â€œWe watch from the lawn. The lights never come on in the rest of the house. Dewey thinks maybe he goes to the toilet in the dark, though.”
    She shook her head. Her eyes were full of disbelief. “Do you boys go to the bathroom while you’re spyin’ on the neighbor ?”
    I furrowed my brow, thinking about this, and realized that we didn’t. Then I realized if we could go that long without going, probably so could Mr. Farrow. My mother noticed the revelation on my face. “Stop thinkin’ bad things about the neighbors. It ain’t neighborly,” she said.
    Uncle Henry still refused to offer even a smidgeon of support. “But, Mama, he never leaves that house. Ever.”
    â€œWhat does he eat?” she asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œHe told us he works nights . And I’ve seen him walkin’ in the early mornings many times. I think he goes for walks after finishing workin’ all night and then comes back and sleeps all day. But for cryin’ out loud, Abe, he has to buy groceries. You should be able to figure out for yourself that he must leave the house sometimes. Just not the times you boys are stakin’ it out.”
    All this made perfect sense when she laid it out like that. I couldn’t figure out why Uncle Henry was keeping so quiet, though. Only a couple hours earlier he had been telling me and Dewey that we were on to something. Even in light of this new information, I still knew we were. In fact, it was all starting to add up and make some kind of sense in my head. When we finally finished dinner and I helped clean up and dry the dishes, I phoned Dewey and quietly told him my new theory.
    â€œI figured it all out,” I said. “Mr. Farrow goes out every mornin’ and collects all the roadkill. My mom’s even seen him leavin’ many times.”
    I could sense Dewey’s excitement even through the telephone line. “What does he do with it?” he asked. “You reckon he eats it like old Newt Parker?”
    â€œNah, Mr. Farrow buys groceries to eat,” I