Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [522]
“That would clear Jason,” I pointed out, and he nodded. I didn’t push it.
“At least no one else has been shot,” I said, trying to think of something positive to throw in with the dismal mix.
“That we know of,” Calvin said.
“What?”
“That we know of. Maybe someone else has been shot, and no one’s found ’em yet.”
I was astonished at the thought, and yet it made sense. “How’d you think of that?”
“I don’t have nothing else to do,” he said with a small smile. “I don’t read, like you do. I’m not much one for television, except for sports.” Sure enough, the station he’d had on when I’d entered had been ESPN.
“What do you do in your spare time?” I asked out of sheer curiosity.
Calvin was pleased I’d asked him a personal question. “I work pretty long hours at Norcross,” he said. “I like to hunt, though I’d rather hunt at the full moon.” In his panther body. Well, I could understand that. “I like to fish. I love mornings when I can just sit in my boat on the water and not worry about a thing.”
“Uh-huh,” I said encouragingly. “What else?”
“I like to cook. We have shrimp boils sometimes, or we cook up a whole mess of catfish and we eat outside—catfish and hush puppies and slaw and watermelon. In the summer, of course.”
It made my mouth water just to think about it.
“In the winter, I work on the inside of my house. I go out and cut wood for the people in our community who can’t cut their own. I’ve always got something to do, seems like.”
Now I knew twice as much about Calvin Norris as I had.
“Tell me how you’re recovering,” I asked.
“I’ve still got the damn IV in,” he said, gesturing with his arm. “Other than that, I’m a lot better. We heal pretty good, you know.”
“How are you explaining Dawson to the people from your work who come to visit?” There were flower arrangements and bowls of fruit and even a stuffed cat crowding the level surfaces in the room.
“Just tell ’em he’s my cousin here to make sure I won’t get too wore out with visitors.”
I was pretty sure no one would question Dawson directly.
“I have to get to work,” I said, catching a glimpse of the clock on the wall. I was oddly reluctant to leave. I’d enjoyed having a regular conversation with someone. Little moments like these were rare in my life.
“Are you still worried about your brother?” he asked.
“Yes.” But I’d made my mind up I wouldn’t beg again. Calvin had heard me out the first time. There wasn’t any need for a repeat.
“We’re keeping an eye on him.”
I wondered if the watcher had reported to Calvin that Crystal was spending the night with Jason. Or maybe Crystal herself was the watcher? If so, she was certainly taking her job seriously. She was watching Jason about as close as he could be watched.
“That’s good,” I said. “That’s the best way to find out he didn’t do it.” I was relieved to hear Calvin’s news, and the longer I pondered it, the more I realized I should have figured it out myself.
“Calvin, you take care.” I rose to leave, and he held up his cheek. Rather reluctantly, I touched my lips to it.
He was thinking that my lips were soft and that I smelled good. I couldn’t help but smile as I left. Knowing someone simply finds you attractive is always a boost to the spirits.
I drove back to Bon Temps and stopped by the library before I went to work. The Renard Parish library is an old ugly brown-brick building erected in the thirties. It looks every minute of its age. The librarians had made many justified complaints about the heating and cooling, and the electrical wiring left a lot to be desired. The library’s parking lot was in bad shape, and the old clinic next door, which had opened its doors in 1918, now had boarded-up windows—always a depressing sight. The long-closed clinic’s overgrown lot looked more like a jungle than a part of downtown.
I had allotted myself ten minutes to exchange my books. I was in and out in eight. The library parking lot was almost empty,