Second Honeymoon Part 35

"That's that vending machine," said Vicks. "You know, the one they have at Brewer's supermarket? You rent DVDs from it for, like, a buck a night."

"Oh, yeah," said Insley. "I've seen it. Never used it. Looks too complicated."

"h.e.l.l, I've even kicked it," said Knoll. "The thing ate my dollar one night."

"What were you trying to rent?" asked Vicks.

"Speed Racer, I think."

"Trust me, the machine was doing you a favor."

The two chuckled. Even Insley cracked a slight smile. That is, he smiled until he noticed Sarah still staring at the receipt. "So what is it?" he asked her again. "What are you thinking?"

"Today's the twenty-fourth, right?" she asked.

Insley nodded. "Yep. My daughter's birthday, actually. Why?"

"Because this receipt is from today."

He bent down to take a look. "That's a little weird, isn't it? If that's the right word."

"Yeah, I think that's the right word," she said. "Now look again. There's something even weirder."

Chapter 54

DEFINITELY WEIRDER.

Sarah had polished off her southwest-style burger and sweet-potato shoestring fries and was below the label on her second bottle of Bud. She was thinking about this killer she was closing in on.

To her left and right, the rest of the packed bar at Canteena's was living up to its reputation as Candle Lake's epicenter of nightlife. This according to Sheriff Insley, who had recommended the joint. And make no mistake: with its low ceiling, fifteen-watt lighting, and sawdust-covered floor, Canteena's was definitely a "joint."

Had Sarah been eavesdropping, she would've heard the shocked chatter from the locals around her about the murder of John O'Hara. What was Sheriff Insley saying? Are there any suspects? Do we have a murderer among us?

But Sarah wasn't eavesdropping. The only thing she could hear was her own thoughts, loud and echoing in her head, and all centered around one single question: What was the killer trying to tell her with this latest clue?

Printed on the receipt from the Movie Hut was the t.i.tle of the movie. It was You've Got Mail, the Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan romantic comedy. A chick flick. In other words, not exactly the DVD that a drinkin' and fishin' kind of guy like John O'Hara would be renting.

Still, there was always the chance he was renting it for his wife, Marsha. Or so Sarah thought-right up until she and Insley made the drive across town to O'Hara's white shingle ranch-style home to break the horrible news.

Turned out the O'Haras didn't even own a DVD player.

The receipt was a clue, all right. Of that much Sarah was certain. As to what it actually meant, she had no idea.

Keep thinking, Brubaker. Keep your focus. The answer's out there somewhere...this b.a.s.t.a.r.d just likes his mind games.

In the meantime, she had a date with Brewer's supermarket in the morning to see if there was a security camera aimed at the so-called Movie Hut. Maybe the killer was caught on tape. Of course, she was hardly holding her breath. That seemed too sloppy for this guy, whoever he was.

Sarah fell back into her thoughts, replaying the afternoon's events in her head. Had she missed something, overlooked anything?

Nothing sprang to mind. Instead, she kept coming back to that moment when Insley told Marsha O'Hara that her husband was never coming home. The poor woman collapsed to the floor in her living room, crushed by the weight of her sudden loss. Death trumps us all, as the saying goes.

Sarah also couldn't shake what Insley had told her on the drive back from the O'Haras', that the couple had been married for forty-two years. Sitting in the front seat of Insley's cruiser, she felt guilty to be thinking about herself at that moment. But the thought was inescapable. It was the first thing that came to her.

Forty-two years? I can barely stay in a relationship for forty-two days.

Suddenly Sarah heard a voice to her left, someone talking to her. It was a man's voice. A really attractive man, actually. Sometimes you can just tell those things before you even look.

"Wow, I really just did that, didn't I?" he asked.

Chapter 55

SARAH TURNED TO face him. He sort of reminded her of Matthew McConaughey-a little younger, without the Texas accent, and maybe without the need to always be taking off his shirt. At least so far.

He was holding a beer. Her beer. Had he grabbed it by mistake? His own bottle of Bud was close by.

"Don't worry about it," said Sarah. "I was practically done with it."

On a dime, he broke into a smile-a great smile, she noticed-and started to laugh. "I'm just kidding. I knew it was your beer."

Sarah joined in. "You had me there for a second," she said.

"I'm sorry. I have an offbeat sense of humor. Please, let me buy you another one."

"Really, that's okay," Sarah said. "It's totally not necessary."

"But I'm afraid it is, if only so I don't disappoint my mother," he said.

Sarah looked around. "Is your mother here?" she asked, half joking.

"No. But she'd be mortified if she knew her son wasn't able to make amends. She was a stickler for manners."

He flashed that amazing smile of his again.

"Well, I suppose we don't want to disappoint your mother," said Sarah.

"That's the spirit," he said. He turned and got the attention of the bartender, ordering another Budweiser. Then he put out his hand. "My name's Jared, by the way. Jared Sullivan."