"Well, your show certainly got popular."
"Right. So popular that by our third season, there were ten other cable shows just like it. And they all took away bits and pieces of our audience. So here we are in our fifth season and our ratings have fallen again. They're talking about canceling us."
"I guess I still don't quite see where I fit into this."
Moonlight made a silver mask of her gentle, freckled face. She looked up at the moon for solace, the same way our genetic ancestors had millions of years ago.
"We need you to find the real murderer," she said. "I don't have my powers left. I sold them out and abused them and God took them away from me."
"You really believe that?"
"I really believe that. I'm being punished for ruining a gift that very few people have."
"And my part in all this?"
"We need you to check out Rick Hennessy's background. Show how he changed over the past couple of years."
"In other words, how he became 'possessed.'"
She paused. "Yeah, I guess that's it."
"You really think he's possessed?"
"I think it's a possibility."
"That doesn't answer my question."
She sighed. Stared up at the moon again. "I don't have to sleep in your bed tonight. I mean, if you don't want me to."
"Knock off the bullshit and answer my question. You really think this kid is possessed?"
"Probably not."
"But you need me and my background report on him to lend your story credibility."
"That's the plan, I guess."
"It kind of pisses me off, Tandy."
"I told Laura it would."
"My word is all I've got. If I get involved in some stunt like this, who'll want to hire me?"
"So you're saying no?"
"I'm saying no."
"Fuck," she said.
I didn't say anything.
"You're really pissed, huh?"
"Yeah."
"I don't blame you."
I didn't say anything.
She walked up toward the burned ruins. Then turned back to me. "I can't believe what I've become. I blame Laura and Noah all the time. But I'm just as guilty as they are. I don't want to give up the life, either. I'm just as bad as they are."
"Maybe not as bad as Noah."
"I know you don't like him. I admit he's kind of a peacock, but he's not such a bad guy."
"Why'd you bring me out here, Tandy?"
She came back and sat next to me on the toppled tree. "I thought you might bring me luck."
"What kind of luck?"
"I thought with you here, I could walk around the grounds and maybe something would happen. Rick used to come out here all the time. I thought maybe I could make some kind of telepathic contact. See if there really were malevolent spirits out here."
"Then you've really contacted spirits before?"
"Oh, sure. That part I believe in completely. I've contacted spirits several times over the years, in fact. I mean, back when I was holy."
"Holy?"
"I know that's kind of a funny word. But that's how I felt. When I was young and was aware of my power. I was in touch with God and with myself and I felt a great peace, and a kind of wisdom. Like when my dad got cancer that time. I was really able to comfort him. And I think that helped him recover completely. I really believe I played a part in that, a part I don't even understand myself. I would go into church and make the stations of the cross and then kneel in front of the votive candles and look up at Blessed Mother and I felt-holy. That's the only way I can explain it, Robert. Holy."
"And you don't feel holy anymore?"
She shook her head. "Not at all."
"And when you were walking around up here tonight-"
"Nothing. No kind of spiritual contact at all."
The owl got busy again. This time he didn't sound plaintive; he sounded triumphant. There was something regal now in his cry. "Thanks for telling me the truth, anyway."
"Laura's going to kill me."
I took her hand. "Maybe you should think about quitting."
"A has-been at twenty-eight."
"Maybe you'll find your powers again."
"I've thought of that, actually."
"You really were helpful to people, Tandy. And you really were holy."
She took my hand and touched it to her cheek. "Tonight? Am I still invited to your room tonight?"
"Absolutely." I tapped my wristwatch. "Now I need to get back."
"Oh, yes," she said, laughing. "I forgot. It's bowling time."
SEVEN
The taverns were all fired up and ready to go. There was a block of them. When we'd left town, there'd been only a few cars parked slantwise in front of them. Now both sides of the block were lined with pickups, vans, and cars. Some of the vans still bore traces of the seventies and eighties in the form of heavy-metal drawings on their sides. In the taverns tonight, as every night, there would be bumper pool and lottery tickets and fistfights and adultery and young love and old weary love and loneliness, lots and lots of loneliness in the neon shadows of beer signs and jukebox glow.
The streets were mostly empty. It was that limbo time when teenagers were actually at home stuffing food in their faces, fortifying themselves for the night ahead. Soon they'd burst forth in a rumble of glass-pak mufflers and rock music and hormones, and ignite the night into an explosion of joy, lust, cosmic ache and cosmic confusion and cosmic arrogance and cosmic terror, and lust lustlust.
As I drove into the parking lot, I saw, at the far end, the green Ford that I'd seen outside Iris Rutledge's office. I drove past it. Empty. I wondered where the big man was. The motel looked shabby in the soft lights of the parking lot, the prairie sky filled with stars now. I pulled into a parking spot near my room.
"I'm glad I told you," Tandy said.
"I'm glad you did, too."
"I don't blame you for not wanting to be involved."
She slid her arm around me as we stood in front of my door. Hugged me. I seemed to represent a mixture of Daddy, brother, and lover to her, and the combination made me uncomfortable.
"See you," she said, and walked to her own room several doors away. She gave me a tiny wave and inserted her key and went inside.
I went in and got the light on and took care of my bladder and washed my face and hands, and then the phone rang.
"Hey, pal. What exotic place're you in this time?"
Brady. Chicago cop. Friend of mine from my bureau days. I'd called him earlier this afternoon but he'd been busy.
"Brenner, Iowa."
"Wow. They got indoor plumbing?"
"Next year."
"Well, we all have to have our dreams."
"How you been?"
"Other than a teenage son who may be doing drugs, fine."
"Damn. You really think so?"
"His mother says the signs're all there. I wouldn't know. I rarely see him. I was a really shitty father to him when he was growing up-we had joint custody but I rarely took him on weekends-and now he's paying me back. Won't even return my phone calls most of the time. So I'm working on spending a lot of time with the younger kids."