Back at the table I said, “Ugg, I can’t tell you how nice it is to see someone my own age.”
“But you don’t like me.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not nice to see you.”
“What do you want?”
“I thought it would be fun to catch up.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Suspicious much?”
She simply glared at me until the barista called out, “Topaz, Topaz.”
“Seriously, you think that’s funny?”
I did, actually. She pushed her chair back noisily and went over to the counter. She picked up her coffee and her muffin and was back in a flash.
“You got the reward, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
Did she want me to say thank you?I really didn’t think I needed to. You don’t say thank you for things you’ve earned.
“You shouldn’t have taken it. A lot of people contributed small amounts to make that possible. I gave five hundred dollars.”
“So, you would have given the money back to all those people?”
“No, but it could have gone to the Turley HIV Clinic. Sammy would have liked that.”
That was messed up. They offered a reward and now she was pissed because someone collected it. What had she thought was going to happen?
“Well, the government took half of it anyway,” I said. I sipped my coffee. It wasn’t bad, but it was cooling off fast. “Somebody killed Reverend Hessel. My grandmother’s pretty upset about it.”
“Well, he was her pastor, I guess she would be.”
She broke off a piece of her muffin and ate it.
“He was your pastor too, wasn’t he?”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“But you were at that pancake supper we went to.”
“I don’t belong to a church, all right? I think I told you that.”
Maybe she had. I had a sort of a vague memory of it.
“Is this why you wanted to see me? To talk about my religious beliefs?”
“No, I want you to tell me everyone you know who’s a meth addict.” I had, of course, completely rejected Nana Cole’s theory of a traveling tweaker.
Opal’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said. Why do you think I knowanyonewho’s a meth addict?”
