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he lifted his gaze from his phone to look at her, she was already gone.

Chapter 6
     
    C HRISTOPHER HAD DRIVEN FROM M AYLENE’S HOUSE DIRECTLY TO R ABBI Wolffe’s. The young rabbi was on the duty roster this week.
    From what Christopher had read in books and seen on the television, he knew that Claysville was peculiar in the way they ran things. Their mayor was joined in his governance by a joint secular and spiritual town council; any resigning council members picked their own replacements—as did the mayor. Between the town proper and the outskirts there were fewer than four thousand living citizens, but under the leadership of Mayor Whittaker and the council, Claysville had next to no serious crime. Hardly anyone moved away, and those few who did always came back. It was a safe, predictable town, and to assure that it stayed that way, the town leaders had policies in place for anomalies. The sheriff had only to follow protocol.
    “I hate this part.” Christopher cut off his engine, but he stayed in the car for an extra minute. The rabbi was relatively new to town, so he tended to forget that there were topics that most of the town couldn’t discuss. He, and the rest of the council, never got the headaches that everyone not on the councils got when forbidden subjects were broached.
    The door to the well-kept Craftsman house opened, and the rabbi stepped out onto the wide front porch. He’d obviously been working: a pencil was tucked behind his ear, and his shirtsleeves were rolled back. For the rabbi, book work was as distracting as the carpentry projects he had started up in town: both sorts of activities required folding up his sleeves.
    Christopher got out of the car and closed the door.
    “Everything in order, Sheriff?” Rabbi Wolffe called. The question wasn’t said in any alarming way, but they both knew Christopher wouldn’t be stopping by if things were in order.
    “I thought we might talk a minute, if you have the time.” Christopher made his way up the flagstone walk.
    “Always.” The rabbi stepped aside and motioned Christopher into the house.
    “I’d just as soon stay outside, Rabbi.” Christopher smiled. He liked the young rabbi, and he was glad the man had chosen to come to Claysville, but longer talks with him always made the headaches come.
    “What can I do for you?”
    “There are a few odd details about Mrs. Barrow’s passing.” Christopher kept his voice bland. “Not that I think the whole town needs to know, but I thought you might mention it to the council. Maybe one of you all could pay a visit to William.”
    “Is there something in particular that we should tell him?”
    Christopher lifted his shoulder in a small shrug. “Suspect he knows. He’s seen her body.”
    Rabbi Wolffe nodded. “I’ll call the council to a meeting tonight, then. Do you know—”
    “No. I don’t know a thing,” Christopher interrupted. “I don’t want to either.”
    “Right.” The rabbi’s features were unreadable. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
    Christopher shrugged again. “Just doing my job, Rabbi.”
    Then he turned and got back in his car as quickly as he could. He didn’t run from fights or anything like that, but he didn’t want to know what he didn’t need to know. Anyone who paid attention understood that there were plenty of times that avoiding questions was the best way for things to work out.

Chapter 7
     
    A FTER TAKING CARE OF ERRANDS AND GOING FOR A LONG RIDE TO CLEAR his head, Byron settled in at Gallagher’s, his regular evening hideaway. Gallagher’s was the best sort of tavern: wooden floor and wooden bar, pool tables and dartboards, cold beer and good liquor. Here, he could believe he was in one of any number of neighborhood bars in any town or city, and usually he could relax—both during open hours and after the bar was closed.
    Not tonight.
    He did all right at first, but as the night stretched on, his nerves became increasingly jangled. He looked at the clock for