“They’re way older,” Manfred said. Olivia thought he seemed a little huffy, and she could not think why. “Rachel was in her early sixties. Tommy and his buddies have to be twenty years older, give or take five years.”

“Morton was older than Rachel, right? Maybe they were his friends.”

“Okay, assume we say they were. Assume these old people, whom we hardly know, agree to pretend they knew Morton. So what?”

“We get in in the daytime. No breaking in.” Olivia smiled broadly. “See, we’ve sent a letter ahead of time, telling Lewis that Mr. Quick had loaned some books to his old friend Morton Goldthorpe. He’s heard Morton passed, and he’s coming to collect the books. We take Tommy and one of the other oldies posing as his wife. That way we get into the library and have a look at what’s there.”

“You think Lewis will let us get that far? You’ve met him. Did he seem like a guy who would let in a stranger without a fight?”

“Maybe not, but we’ll have the old people with us, so what can he do about it?”

“He’s crazy bad and rude, Olivia. You can’t count on him to act like a guy with social skills. And especially if I were anywhere near. Lewis wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire.”

“I had this idea in a church. So it’s got to be a good one, if we just fine-tune it a little.” She was not completely serious, but she could visualize this all falling into place, and she thought it was the beginning of a real plan. She was frustrated that Manfred couldn’t seem to see its promise. “Manfred, it’s all confusion to the enemy!”

He smiled, a bit reluctantly. “That’s true,” he said. “But it sounds kind of sketchy, to say the least. Who will go with them?”

“Do you think we could talk Joe into it?”

“Joe . . . why him?”

“Because he just inspires a feeling of reliability. You trust him. Right?”

“That’s true. He’s the most likable resident of Midnight, with the possible exception of Bobo. What about Bobo?”

“He can’t leave work,” she said. “Let me review the domino effect we have going. Teacher used to take over during the day if Bobo wanted off. But now Teacher’s stuck in the convenience store until the owners find a permanent replacement. Lem isn’t here to keep the pawnshop open at night, so I’ve been filling in for him, though I can’t do it every night. I have my own business to conduct.”

“We should ask Bobo first, though.”

“Why are you being so freaking stubborn?”

“Because I know Bobo better, that’s all.”

“All right. Go over there and ask him.” Olivia marched into Manfred’s TV area and sat on the couch. She was obviously prepared to wait until kingdom come.

Manfred glanced at his telephone, and its light was blinking merrily. “I have to work,” he said. “I have bills to pay.”

“Like your lawyer bill? It’s only going to get higher if we don’t close this thing down.”

“I’ll be right back.” Manfred knew when to accept the situation. He was over at the pawnshop in less than a minute.

Though the day outside was bright and cloudless and blindingly hot, the inside of the pawnshop was dark and cool. Bobo was behind the high counter, sitting on a stool and typing on the keyboard.

“Guns,” he explained. “The paperwork on guns. Never ending.”

“Bobo, I have a favor to ask you.”

“I’m kind of stretched thin now, Manfred, but you can ask.”

Now that Manfred’s eyes were accustomed to the dusky light, he could see that Bobo looked tired and that his sleepy goodwill was simply sleepy. Suddenly, Manfred felt selfish. He was asking his landlord and friend to do something that was both an imposition and an inconvenience.

“Never mind,” he said.

Bobo smiled. “Well, okay. Normally I’d bug you to find out what you needed, but having Teacher stuck in place at the convenience store and Lemuel gone at the same time is running me ragged. And of course, this is the time when the shop’s gotten busy, for a reason I can’t even begin to understand.” As if to underline his words, the bell on the door chimed as a burly man came in carrying a guitar case. Bobo glanced at the wall of musical instruments on display and sighed. “Be right with you,” he called.

“It’s cool,” Manfred said. “You’ve got a lot on your plate right now.” He turned to go.

“Hey,” Bobo said abruptly. “Is it true that Fiji is going out with the bouncer from Cartoon Saloon?”

“So she says.”

“But he seems a little . . .” Bobo’s voice trailed off, and he waved a hand to convey what his words could not.

“A little what?” Manfred said, curious to see what Bobo would come up with.

“A little tough,” Bobo said.

This was interesting. “Yeah, well, bouncer,” Manfred said cautiously. “She says he’s also an EMT.”

“I just hope he’s a good guy. He seems all wrong for her.”

“Fiji’s healthy and pretty. You can’t expect her to sit home by herself.”

And this time Manfred left, but he was smiling to himself.

Olivia took care to be sitting on the same spot on the couch when she saw Manfred returning, though of course she’d been looking around while he was gone. She could tell from the way he walked that she would get her way.

“All right, we’ll ask Joe,” Manfred said as he came in. “Maybe we can eat at Home Cookin tonight and talk about it. That way I won’t miss any more time off work.”

“So ahead of time, I need to ask the oldies if they’re willing.”

“Go right ahead. Since this whole crazy idea is based on them saying yes for some unknown reason.”

“Unknown reason, hell,” Olivia said. “They’ll do it for money, same as anyone else.”

“And think of something to call them besides the oldies,” Manfred called as she let herself out.

Olivia, the bit firmly between her teeth, felt purposeful and much more cheerful. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she walked to the hotel. She felt the beginning of a trickle of sweat on her back, knew it would roll with an unpleasant ticklish feeling down the crack between her hips. She found she was looking forward to talking to Tommy again. He was a rascal, through and through.

Olivia liked old people. It surprised her to realize this, and she wondered if it had something to do with her relationship with Lemuel, who was the oldest person she’d ever met . . . though perhaps calling him a person was a bit of a stretch.

But then she remembered her father’s mother. She’d liked Grandmother. There had been a few moments in her childhood that hadn’t actually sucked, and the times she’d gotten to stay with her grandmother had contained all those moments. So she walked into the hotel with pleasant anticipation. Two old women were sitting in the lobby, which contained several comfortable chairs and a table or two. One of the women was knitting, and the other was listening to an iPod. They both looked up with interest as she came to a stop in front of them.

“I’m Olivia Charity,” she said. “I met Tommy the other day. I believe you ladies must be Mamie and Suzie?”

Mamie turned out to be the knitter, and Suzie the listener. Mamie had to use a walker, and Olivia discovered quickly that her conversation tended to wander away from time to time. Mamie’s knit pants hung on her, and her shoes were orthopedic, but she wore makeup, by God, and her hair was white and curly like a lamb’s coat. Suzie was (to Olivia’s surprise) of Asian descent, though her speech was purely American. Her thick gray hair was cut short at her earlobes, and her eyeglasses were decorated with rhinestones. Suzie was wearing a red T-shirt and white crops with red sandals. She looked as if she were about to go on a Golden Age cruise.