Divine Evil

But her eyes were full of weariness and sympathy. “I'm sorry I dumped that on you.”
    “You didn't,” she corrected and tried a sip of the coffee. It was stone cold. “I butted in.”
    “How is she?”
    “The doc gave her a sedative. She's resting. Mrs. Finch and Mrs. Negley came by. They'll stay with her.”
    “That's good.” He rubbed a hand over the back of hisneck. Sighing, she tapped out the cigarette, then walked around the desk to massage his shoulders.
    Grateful, he leaned back into her. “A man could get used to having you around, Slim.”
    “That's what they all say.” Over his head she glanced at the paper in the typewriter. It was a police report, brutally frank and without compassion. She found herself swallowing as she read the condition of the body. Feeling her fingers stiffen, Cam glanced around. Without a word, he pulled the sheet out and set it facedown on the desk.
    “You've done more than your share, Slim. Why don't you go home? Fire up your torch.”
    She let her hands fall to her sides. “He was murdered.”
    “We're not ready to release an official statement.” He stood then, forcing her to take a step back. “And we don't want speculation running through the town.”
    “I wasn't planning on dashing over to Martha's and spouting off over a burger. Jesus Christ, Cam, if anyone knows what it's like to have death and scandal discussed in the beauty parlor and hardware store, it's me.”
    “Okay.” He grabbed her hand before she could storm out. “Okay, I'm out of line. I'm in a pisser of a mood, Clare, but after what you did today, you're the last one I should be taking it out on.”
    “You're absolutely right,” she snapped back, then relented a little. “Cam, your mother didn't mean those things she said.”
    “Yes, she did.” To comfort himself, he rubbed the back of his hand over Clare's cheek.
    “She was shocked and in pain. People say things-”
    “She's blamed me since I was ten years old,” he interrupted. “She knew I hated him, and maybe I hated her for marrying him, too. I couldn't tell her I was sorry he's deadbecause I'm not. I don't even know if I'm sorry he died the way he did.”
    “You don't have to be.” She lifted her hand to close it over his. “You don't have to be sorry for anything. You'll do your job. You'll find out who killed him. That's enough.”
    “It'll have to be.”
    “Listen, you look like you could use a break. Why don't you come home with me? I'll fix you something to eat.”
    He glanced at the clock, then at the papers on his desk. “Give me ten minutes. I'll meet you there.”
    “Make it twenty,” she said with a smile. “I don't think I have anything left but stale cookies.”
    Three men sat on a park bench. They watched Clare go into Cam's office. And watched her come out.
    “I don't like how she's hanging around.” Slowly, Less Gladhill brought the unfiltered cigarette to his lips. “Christ knows what she's telling the sheriff or what Jane Stokey said to her while they was out there all alone all that time.”
    “There's no need to worry about Clare.” Less's companion spoke quietly, a voice of reason. Behind them, in the park, young children squealed on the swings. “Or about the sheriff, for that matter. We have more important, and certainly more immediate, concerns.” He drew a deep breath as he studied both men beside him. “What happened last night could have been avoided.”
    “He deserved to die.” Less had enjoyed every swing of the bat.
    “Maybe he did, maybe he didn't.” The third man didn't like to speak at all. He kept a weather eye on the traffic, both cars and pedestrians. Word could get around quicklythat the three of them had met. “Thing is, it's done. I don't much care for killing our own.”
    “He broke the Law-” Less began, but the voice of reason raised his hand.
    “A bar fight is foolish but nothing to be killed for. We joined together more than two decades ago for the rite, for the union, for the Master. Not to shed our own blood.”
    Less had joined for the sex, but he merely shrugged. “You shed plenty yourself last night.”
    “The vote was cast. I did what was necessary.” And there was a part of him that had wallowed in the sick triumph of it. That was his weakness, and it shamed him. “There may come a time, and soon, for a shift of power.”
    The third man shook his head and moved his body away just enough to symbolize distance. “I won't take him on. I'm telling you