Midnight Crossroad

28

Fiji said, “I’ve come to confess, Rev.”

The old man stood before the bench where Fiji sat, his rusty black suit blending into the darkness of the church. It was late in the afternoon, but the chapel lights weren’t on. The room was cold. Emilio Sheehan did not reply, but then, he was a man of few words unless the preaching was on him.

“There’s a bad man who thinks Bobo killed Aubrey. Or maybe he’s just pretending to think that; maybe he really wants Bobo accused of killing her because he wants to find out where Bobo’s stashed a lot of guns.”

“Hmmm,” the Rev said. It was an experimental sound, as though he were clearing his throat before making a comment. She waited until it became clear he was not going to speak.

“So, I try to be a good person and a good witch, but I really want to do something awful to that guy,” Fiji said. “Is it worse to sit back and do nothing while people plot against the . . . a good friend? Or is it worse to do something evil to them before they can hurt that friend?”

The Rev did not have to think long about this. “We protect the people we love, and we love the people of this community,” he said, his expression stern and sure.

Fiji nodded to show that she accepted this as true.

“We must wait for the evil to come to us,” he said. “But when it does, we can defend ourselves against it.”

This was not the answer Fiji had been hoping for, and her face showed that.

“Otherwise,” the Rev explained, “we rob the evil one of the chance to think better, to redeem himself.”

“Human nature being what it is . . .” she said angrily, and then bit her lip to make herself be silent.

“Human nature,” said the Rev. “Well, it’s not good, that’s for sure. But we have to give it a chance. I gave Aubrey a chance.”

“What are you referring to?” Fiji said.

“She cared for Bobo.”

“Yes.”

“That was true. But for reasons best known only to her, she could not stop acting interested in every male she saw.”

Creek had said the same thing. “They told you this? That is, the men she, ah, made passes at?”

“They would not tell me such a thing. I witnessed it. And Aubrey laughed about it when I spoke to her.”

Fiji was astonished, and not a little disgusted. “You mean she flirted with, say, Chuy and Joe?”

He nodded.

“You?”

He nodded, a fraction of an inch dip of his chin.

“And Teacher . . . Shawn . . . Lemuel?”

Another nod.

Every adult male in Midnight. “I’m surprised Madonna or Olivia didn’t kill her,” she said in amazement, and then she froze. “Oh, golly.”

“You may have the wrong murderer, you see,” the Rev said. “Aubrey was daring the world to kill her.”

“So she . . . her behavior led to her own death?” Fiji was scrambling to absorb this.

“Just because she threw out the dare doesn’t mean someone should have picked it up,” he said. Then he turned away to kneel in prayer at his little altar.

Fiji realized it was time for her to leave.