“An hour?” The Sheriff grunted. “A hundred people could have messed with that bag in that time.”
“No. I was sitting way over there. I didn’t see anyone mess with it.”
“Why were you staring at it? Were you planning to steal it?” the Sheriff asked.
“No. I was going to see if the guy came back for it and if not, I was going to take it to your office for the lost and found.”
“That was certainly kindhearted of you.”
“Yeah. Good thing I took an extra long lunch in the park, huh?”
“Yeah. Lucky.” Sheriff Merrow didn’t sound convinced. “And if you’d brought the bag to me earlier, you could have put a skylight in my office.”
“Wait. What? What does that mean?” the guy asked, looking worried.
Sheriff Merrow pinned him with a stare. “What was your name again?”
“Um, John.”
“John?” The Sheriff made a notation. “Last name.”
“Um. Johnson.”
“John Johnson?”
“Uh-huh.” The guy nodded. The Sheriff made him recite his address and cell number before he turned to Max. “Where were you an hour ago?”
“I was at work.”In a stupor because some guy named Howard sprayed knockout stuff in my face.
The redhead snorted in disbelief. Sheriff Merrow sent a hard gaze meant to silence the young man and it worked. The redhead frowned and did another single finger to the upper lip mustache check.
He turned back to Max. “Can anyone verify that?”
“I can,” Bubba said immediately. “I’ll come by your office and give a formal statement on Max’s behalf later, if that’s okay. I need to get back to my shop right now.”
“Sure,” Sheriff Merrow said.
“Astrid will want to know what happened here and she’s also a witness to Max being at work, if you need it.” Bubba glared at the redheaded accuser with disdain.
Max was so unused to anyone sticking up for him, he inhaled deeply to keep from shedding a tear or sniffling in relief. The emotional reaction was another thing he wasn’t used to. He’d never felt so on the edge of any sort of outward reaction. He usually had more control. But here he was about to shed a tear for the third or fourth time in the last twenty-four hours. Did the witches’ spells make him extra weepy or something?
“Thanks. I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” He pointed to a pole at the corner. “We’ve got surveillance of the fountain area. Once I check it out, I’m sure we’ll discover the truth of the matter.”
Max looked up at the indicated camera. He got another undefinable bad feeling, but refused to give any credence to it. The last time a video had freed him after someone planted the arsonist’s lighter on him and yet a second showed he was nowhere near the fire when it was set.
The Sheriff didn’t seem automatically convinced he was guilty. Bubba and Ruby were on his side. Astrid was, too, although no one, himself included, could prove he was at Bubba’s Psychic Readings an hour ago. Max felt in his bones that he hadn’t done anything wrong and did his best to convince his inner paranoid self that everything would be fine.
Sheriff Merrow started herding people away from the scorch mark on the sidewalk as members of the fire department surveyed the damage, marking the space off with black and yellow crime scene tape.
“Let’s go.” Bubba clapped him on the back once. “I’d like to finish our earlier discussion.”
“Just a second.” Max pulled Ruby a few yards away for privacy.
“Are we still meeting at the end of the day for my reading?” she asked.
“Maybe we should reschedule on a day that doesn’t have any explosions in it.”
“That’s fine.”
