problem at Heavenly Valley High, and your son may have useful information.”
“Problem? Tim hasn’t mentioned any problems.”
“He sleeps till all hours,” said Kayleigh.
“Kayleigh,” said her mother, “please go to your room for a few minutes.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“I’m not suggesting this problem has any direct connection to Tim,” Bernie said. “It relates to the archery club.”
“Did someone get shot?” the woman said. “With an arrow?”
Kayleigh’s eyes opened wide.
“Not to my knowledge,” Bernie said. “Not yet. But we wouldn’t want anything like that to happen, would we? Think of the liability.”
The woman bit her lip. Bernie was great at making people do that, women especially. It always meant we were about to get somewhere. “I’ll wake him,” she said. “You can wait . . .” She glanced around, maybe about to tell us to wait outside, but at that moment a landscaper’s truck parked across the street. “. . . in the kitchen.” We started inside. “Just a minute. The dog’s coming inside?”
“He’s a trained police dog,” Bernie said.
“Chet,” said Kayleigh. “His nose is cold.”
We waited in the kitchen, Bernie at the table, me by the window. I heard voices upstairs. Bernie rose, opened the fridge, took a quick peek inside. That was Bernie, filling in the blanks. He was back in his place when the woman returned, trailed bya tall kid wearing boxers and a T-shirt; he had rumpled hair and puffy eyes.
“My son, Tim,” the woman said.
“Hi, Tim,” said Bernie. “Take a seat.”
Tim took a seat. We’d gone through a stage, me and Bernie, of watching zombie movies. Tim moved like that. He noticed me and looked puzzled.
“Mrs. Fletcher?” said Bernie. “It would be helpful if we could talk to Tim alone. It’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Alone? Why?”
“Standard procedure.” As he said that, he made a helpless shrug, like: Stupid, I know, but what can I do? We’re stuck in this together. Bernie could have been a great actor; at least his mother thought so. I’ll get to her later if I have a chance.
The woman blinked, started backing out of the room. “Call if you need me, Tim.”
Tim grunted something. He gave off strong smells. I kept my distance.
Bernie gave Tim a smile, the kind that looked friendly if you didn’t know him. “I see your mom brewed coffee. Want some?”
Tim shook his head.
“That your Mustang in the driveway?”
Tim grunted.
“Cool car. I had one of those when I was about your age. What are you—a senior?”
Tim nodded.
“At Heavenly Valley High?”
Another nod.
“Got plans for next year?”
Tim shrugged.
“You must be sick of hearing that question.”
Tim gazed at Bernie, then spoke his first words. “I got accepted early at U of A.”
“Congratulations,” Bernie said. “Fine school. You’re looking at four of the best years of your life, I guarantee it—as long as you stay out of jail.”
Tim’s eyes, suddenly less sleepy, opened wide, just like his little sister’s, and out came another word. “Huh?”
“And the only way you can get in trouble on that account would be by holding back now.”
“Holding back, like . . . ?”
“Let’s start with last Wednesday night, when you drove Madison Chambliss home.”
Tim’s mouth opened, stayed that way for a moment.
“That was in the Mustang, I assume.”
Tim shook his head. He had sleepy seeds in the corners of his eyes. I get them, too.
“Some other car?” Bernie said.
“No,” said Tim. “No car.”
“You’re losing me.”
“Like, I didn’t drive her home.”
Bernie sighed. He was a great sigher, had different sighs for different occasions. “The problem is, she said you did.”
“I didn’t. What’s going on? I thought this was about the archery club.”
Bernie sat back in his chair. It creaked under him. “Early acceptance is the way to go with college these days, no question,” he said. “The only drawback
“Problem? Tim hasn’t mentioned any problems.”
“He sleeps till all hours,” said Kayleigh.
“Kayleigh,” said her mother, “please go to your room for a few minutes.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“I’m not suggesting this problem has any direct connection to Tim,” Bernie said. “It relates to the archery club.”
“Did someone get shot?” the woman said. “With an arrow?”
Kayleigh’s eyes opened wide.
“Not to my knowledge,” Bernie said. “Not yet. But we wouldn’t want anything like that to happen, would we? Think of the liability.”
The woman bit her lip. Bernie was great at making people do that, women especially. It always meant we were about to get somewhere. “I’ll wake him,” she said. “You can wait . . .” She glanced around, maybe about to tell us to wait outside, but at that moment a landscaper’s truck parked across the street. “. . . in the kitchen.” We started inside. “Just a minute. The dog’s coming inside?”
“He’s a trained police dog,” Bernie said.
“Chet,” said Kayleigh. “His nose is cold.”
We waited in the kitchen, Bernie at the table, me by the window. I heard voices upstairs. Bernie rose, opened the fridge, took a quick peek inside. That was Bernie, filling in the blanks. He was back in his place when the woman returned, trailed bya tall kid wearing boxers and a T-shirt; he had rumpled hair and puffy eyes.
“My son, Tim,” the woman said.
“Hi, Tim,” said Bernie. “Take a seat.”
Tim took a seat. We’d gone through a stage, me and Bernie, of watching zombie movies. Tim moved like that. He noticed me and looked puzzled.
“Mrs. Fletcher?” said Bernie. “It would be helpful if we could talk to Tim alone. It’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Alone? Why?”
“Standard procedure.” As he said that, he made a helpless shrug, like: Stupid, I know, but what can I do? We’re stuck in this together. Bernie could have been a great actor; at least his mother thought so. I’ll get to her later if I have a chance.
The woman blinked, started backing out of the room. “Call if you need me, Tim.”
Tim grunted something. He gave off strong smells. I kept my distance.
Bernie gave Tim a smile, the kind that looked friendly if you didn’t know him. “I see your mom brewed coffee. Want some?”
Tim shook his head.
“That your Mustang in the driveway?”
Tim grunted.
“Cool car. I had one of those when I was about your age. What are you—a senior?”
Tim nodded.
“At Heavenly Valley High?”
Another nod.
“Got plans for next year?”
Tim shrugged.
“You must be sick of hearing that question.”
Tim gazed at Bernie, then spoke his first words. “I got accepted early at U of A.”
“Congratulations,” Bernie said. “Fine school. You’re looking at four of the best years of your life, I guarantee it—as long as you stay out of jail.”
Tim’s eyes, suddenly less sleepy, opened wide, just like his little sister’s, and out came another word. “Huh?”
“And the only way you can get in trouble on that account would be by holding back now.”
“Holding back, like . . . ?”
“Let’s start with last Wednesday night, when you drove Madison Chambliss home.”
Tim’s mouth opened, stayed that way for a moment.
“That was in the Mustang, I assume.”
Tim shook his head. He had sleepy seeds in the corners of his eyes. I get them, too.
“Some other car?” Bernie said.
“No,” said Tim. “No car.”
“You’re losing me.”
“Like, I didn’t drive her home.”
Bernie sighed. He was a great sigher, had different sighs for different occasions. “The problem is, she said you did.”
“I didn’t. What’s going on? I thought this was about the archery club.”
Bernie sat back in his chair. It creaked under him. “Early acceptance is the way to go with college these days, no question,” he said. “The only drawback
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