Dew Drop Dead by James Howe Page B

don’t care if it moves you to tears or makes you want to change the world—nothing can compare with one moment of real pain. Or real joy, for that matter. Look, all I want to do is tell a good story. I wouldn’t mind if I gave my readers a good laugh or a cry alongthe way. Maybe I’ll even get them to think a little. And if they look at real life differently—the pain they see in others, the pain they feel themselves—that’s about the best I can hope for.”
    â€œBut why make it funny?” Corrie asked.
    â€œBecause people need to laugh. We’re all afraid of the dark, Corrie. We’re like David here—when we’re the most afraid, we most need to giggle.”
    â€œI guess,” Corrie said. “I just don’t feel much like laughing now. You know?”
    Josh nodded. “I know,” he said.
    The doorbell rang.
    â€œI’ll get it,” David said, shoving Rachel back into her chair.
    A moment later, he returned with Alex and Rebecca in tow.
    â€œJust stopped by to say hello,” Alex said. Seeing Sebastian and Corrie, he asked, “How are you two doing tonight? Corrie?”
    â€œOkay,” Corrie mumbled.
    â€œJoin us for dessert?” Josh asked. “Rachel, help your brother clear the table.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œIt’s good exercise. Jane Fonda recommends it.”
    â€œOf course we’ll join you for dessert,” said Alex, tossing his hat on a pile of newspapers on the counter. “You don’t think the timing of this visit is accidental, do you?”
    Alex pulled up a couple of chairs for himself and Rebecca.
    â€œSo can you tell us what really happened?” David asked, once the dirty dinner plates had been replaced by clean ones and dessert was being passed around.
    â€œAs much as we know,” said Alex. “We’ve just sent the shirt to forensics, along with Abraham’s shoes to see if they match the footprints out by the creek. And we’re still waiting on the coroner’s report. Admittedly, the evidence we have is largely circumstantial.”
    â€œYou mean Abraham might be innocent?” Corrie asked.
    â€œHe is innocent,” Alex said.
    Corrie looked confused. “But you arrested him.”
    â€œHe’s innocent until proven guilty. We arrested him because we suspect he committed the crime. Since he’s an unknown and homeless, we can’t risk his running out on us. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”
    â€œThe dead man was named Kevin Moore,” said Rebecca.
    â€œNot Isaac?” Sebastian asked, surprised.
    Alex shook his head. “From his identification, we were able to locate his mother in a trailer park in Pennsylvania. She said her son had called her about a week ago to let her know where he was. He told herhe was traveling with a man named Abraham, whom he described as being ‘crazy but kind.’”
    â€œShe also told us,” said Rebecca, picking up the story, “that her son had a long history of problems, including alcohol abuse. He’d started running away from home when he was twelve. But he always called her to let her know where he was.”
    â€œSo she wouldn’t worry,” Alex said, shaking his head. “What did she call him? ‘A good boy living a bad life.’ Anyway, as she described it, this man, Abraham, had become a sort of father figure to Kevin, and she was glad to know someone was watching out for him.”
    â€œThen why would Abraham kill him?” Corrie said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
    â€œWho knows?” said Alex. “We’re a long way from having the answer to that. All we know is that the deceased was traveling with a man named Abraham, that the man named Abraham at the church was in possession of the magazine and shirt you said you saw at the inn—yes, he admitted they were his, along with the Bible you found by the creek. And—Rebecca,