Pride v. Prejudice by Joan Hess

and psychotic humans with chainsaws.
    â€œI did see them,” he said. “I really, really did. Grandma didn’t believe me, but they were there. She took away my binoculars and told me to go back to bed. Soon as she closed the door, I got up and went back to the window. One of them had a flashlight.” He squeezed my hand as he gave me a beseeching look. “I didn’t make it up. I swear.”
    I was beginning to believe at least part of his story. I’d listened to more than anyone’s fair share of fantasies from the nursery school set, but I’d never had a problem sorting out the tidbits of truth intertwined in Caron’s fabrications. The mention of a flashlight qualified as a glaring anomaly. Unless, I thought with a sigh, I was completely out of touch with the current zombie mythology. Perhaps they drove Jaguars and wore Armani suits, ate sushi made with gray matter, and texted their friends who had not yet risen from the grave to stalk teenaged babysitters.
    â€œOver by the river, you said,” I prompted him.
    â€œWrestling. I couldn’t see them good because Grandma stole my binoculars. I had to eat peas and carrots and beets before she gave them back.”
    â€œBrutal.” I realized it was past noon. According to Peter, the sheriff was an affable country boy, but we had parted without any promises to keep in touch or do lunch. Wessell’s overtly hostile attack on my character had to be hot gossip in the courthouse mileu. I did not want to keep Sheriff Dorfer waiting for me. “I’d like to talk to you again, Billy. Do you think that will be all right with your grandparents?”
    He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “I don’t know. They were kind of sore at me when the deputy told them I lied about seeing zombies. It wasn’t fair, because I did see them. I can’t help it if they’re stupid just like the deputy.”
    â€œThey’re not stupid,” I said as I stood up. “Adults have small imaginations. It’s too bad they didn’t see the zombies, but they didn’t.”
    â€œDo you have a small imagination?”
    â€œNo one has ever accused me of that.” I patted his shoulder and told him I’d be back later in the afternoon or the following day. He gave me a twenty-one-cap-gun salute as I drove away.
    *   *   *
    The parking lot at the county jail was crowded. Suspecting the weekend was prime visiting time, I found a parking spot behind the courthouse and walked a half block to the yellow brick building. A sign informed me that cell phones were not allowed during visitation hours, which began at one o’clock. A woman with conical hair and heavy makeup looked at me from her desk.
    â€œStop here, honey,” she said. “You have to sign in before you can visit. Is it your husband enjoying our hospitality, or maybe a boyfriend?”
    â€œI have an appointment with Sheriff Dorfer.”
    She tilted her head. “On a Saturday afternoon? You must be thinking of another sheriff. Harve lit out of here two hours ago to spend the weekend fishing with his buddies. They’re on the third or fourth case of beer by now. Come back on Tuesday, but wait until after lunch. He can be meaner than a polecat when he has a hangover.”
    He also had no problem skipping appointments, especially with me. Then again, he was a politician. “He’s gone for the entire weekend?”
    â€œMaybe I can help you. My name’s LaBelle, and I know most everything about what goes on here. I’ve been the dispatcher since before Harve won his first election. What’s your name, honey?”
    â€œClaire Malloy. My husband spoke to Sheriff Dorfer and made the appointment for me.”
    LaBelle licked her cerise lips as she studied me. “Oh, yeah, you’re the women who got kicked off the jury. I wish I could have been there. Tyrell’s sister heard all about it from the