Odd Thomas

him."
        "You didn't tell the chief he might show up here?"
        "Not me. How would I know where he'd show up?"
        "Chief says if I see him coming but I can't see both his hands, don't figure he's just getting a breath mint from his pocket."
        "I wouldn't second-guess the chief."
        A Lincoln Navigator pulled in from the street and paused behind Varner's cruiser. He stuck his arm all the way out of the window and waved the SUV around him.
        I could see two men in the Navigator. Neither was Robertson.
        "How do you know this guy?" Varner asked.
        "Before noon, he came in the Grille for lunch."
        The lids lifted slightly from those sleepy-bear eyes. "That's all? You cooked his lunch? I thought… something went down between you and him."
        "Something. Not much." I compressed the day, leaving out what Varner didn't need to know: "He was weird at the Grille. The chief was there at the time, saw him being weird. So then this afternoon, I'm off work, out and about, minding my own business, and this Robertson flips me off, gets aggressive with me."
        Varner's heavy lids became hoods, narrowing his eyes to slits of suspicion. Instinct told him that I was withholding information. He wasn't as slow as he looked. "Aggressive how?"
        Stormy saved me from a rough lie with a smooth one: "The creep made a crude pass at me, and Odd told him to back off."
        Fungus Man didn't look like the kind of macho stud who thought every woman was panting for him.
        Stormy, however, is so strikingly good-looking that Varner, already in a suspicious mood, seemed inclined to believe that even a schlump like Bob Robertson would work up enough hormones to try his luck with her.
        He said, "Chief thinks this guy vandalized St. Bart's. You know about that, I guess."
        Deflecting this dogged Sherlock, Stormy said, "Officer Varner, curiosity is killing me. Do you mind my asking - what's your tattoo mean?"
        He wore a short-sleeve shirt, exposing his massive forearms. On his left arm, above his watch, were three block letters: POD.
        "Miss Llewellyn, I'm sorry to say that as a teenager I was one screwed-up puppy. Got myself involved in gangs. Turned my life around before it was too late. I thank the Lord Jesus for that. This tattoo was a gang thing."
        "What do the letters stand for?" she asked.
        He seemed embarrassed. "It's a crude obscenity, miss. I'd rather not say."
        "You could have it removed," she said. "They've gotten a lot better at that in recent years."
        Varner said, "Thought about doing just that. But I keep it to remind me how far off the right path I once went and how easy it was to take that first wrong step."
        "That's so fascinating and so admirable," she said, leaning closer to the window as if to get a better look at this paragon of virtue. "Lots of people rewrite their past rather than face up to it. I'm glad to know we've got men like you looking out for us."
        She poured this verbal syrup so smoothly that it sounded sincere.
        While Officer Varner was basking in her flattery as happily as a waffle in whipped butter, she turned to me and said, "Odd, I've got to get home. I have an early morning."
        I wished Officer Varner good luck, and he made no attempt to continue grilling me. He seemed to have forgotten his suspicions.
        In the car, I said to her, "I never realized you had such a talent for deceit."
        "Oh, that's too serious a word for it. I just manipulated him a little."
        "After we're married, I'm going to be on the lookout for that," I warned her as I started the car.
        "What do you mean?"
        "In case you ever try to manipulate me a little."
        "Good heavens, odd one, I manipulate you every day. And fold and spindle you, as well."
        I couldn't tell if she was serious. "You do?"
        "Gently, of course. Gently and with great affection. And you always like it."
        "I do?"
        "You have numerous little tricks to get me to do it."
        I put the car in gear but kept my foot on the brake. "You're saying I invite manipulation?"
        "Some days I think you thrive on it."
        "I can't tell if you're serious."
        "I know. You're adorable."
        "Puppies are adorable. I'm not a puppy."
        "You and puppies. Totally adorable."
        "You are serious."
        "Am