Blood Hollow

24

The next miracle occurred the following morning and could have been predicted, Cork thought.

Deputy Cy Borkmann accosted Cork the moment he walked into the Pinewood Broiler for coffee and the news of the day.

“You hear about the healing?”

Cork was on his way to a stool at the counter. “What healing, Cy?”

Borkmann waddled along beside him and placed as much of his oversize posterior as he could on the stool next to Cork.

“Somebody got hold of the blanket Solemn’s been sleeping on. Used it to cure a blind man.”

“Whoa,” Cork said. He signaled Sara and asked for coffee.

“Start at the beginning, Cy.”

“This morning just after sunrise, folks started gathering in the park across from the jail, the way they been doing every morning. When there’s a good number gathered, a guy shows up with a folded blanket, and he says it’s Winter Moon’s, from his jail cell. He says, ‘Does anybody want to be healed?’

“From what I gather, nobody got much excited at first. Finally Grover Buck speaks up.”

“Grover Buck? He’s the blind man who got healed?”

“I know,” Borkmann said. “There’s a lot not to like about old Grover, but he’s sure as shit been blind since the mine accident. Got himself that settlement and all. Well, Grover speaks up and says he might as well give it a try. The guy walks over to him, hands him the folded blanket, and Grover wraps it around his face. At first, nothing much. Grover says, ‘Well, maybe I can see some flashes of light.’

“ ‘Down on your knees,’ the guy tells him, ‘and pray to the Lord for a miracle.’ Grover falls to his knees and starts praying, and in a minute he pulls that blanket away from his face and he’s got tears streaming down his stubbly cheeks and he says, ‘I can see. Praise the Lord, I can see.’

“Now anybody knows Grover knows he ain’t the most holy man on God’s earth, nor the most trustworthy. But the guy with the blanket holds up his hand in front of Grover’s face and says, ‘What do you see?’ And Grover says, ‘Three fingers,’ and he’s right. The guy takes a red bandana from his pocket and says, ‘Now what do you see?’ Grover says, ‘It’s a hanky. And it’s red. By Jesus, it’s red.’

“Well, that got folks interested. The next healing really got them going.”

“There were two healings?”

“That’s what I’m here to tell you. You know Marge Shembeckler?”

“Don’t tell me her arthritis was cured.”

“The woman got up from her wheelchair and walked. First time in years. After that, folks swarmed all over the guy with the blanket. He starts cutting it into little pieces couple inches square and selling each square for twenty dollars. As the blanket gets smaller, the price goes up. I heard that the pieces come out of the last couple feet were selling for a couple hundred dollars. Whoever that guy was, he made a killing.”

“The blanket, it did come from Solemn’s cell?”

“Yep. Sheriff’s all hot under the collar about that. Shouldn’t be too hard to pin down who took it, though. Not a lot of folks in and out of there at night.”

Sara set a cup of coffee in front of Cork and he thanked her.

“A shame,” Cork said. “Taking advantage of people like that.”

“You don’t believe in miracles?”

“Have you taken a good look at that crowd? Those are desperate people, Cy, ripe for a con. Is Arne going to investigate?”

“He put Gooding on it.”

Cork left the Broiler and headed to the sheriff’s department to see Solemn. The sun was high already and the day felt like a scorcher. In the park across the street, there was singing and praying and a lot of movement, as if all those bodies were charged with electricity, with possibility and hope.

When Solemn was let into the interview room, he offered Cork a smile that seemed to be missing the glory that lately had illumined it.

“Morning, Solemn.”

“Hey, Cork.”

“They treating you well?”

“No complaints.” He took a chair and sat down at the table across from Cork.

“You know about the blanket?”

Solemn nodded.

“Any idea how it got snatched?”

Solemn sat at the edge of his chair, feet flat on the floor, his hands folded in his lap. He looked like a man waiting, maybe on a bus bench, for whatever it was that would take him to wherever it was he was going.

“It’s too warm most nights,” he said. “I keep it folded at the foot of my bed. While I was asleep, someone must’ve taken it.”

“You didn’t see who?”

“No.”

“Sound sleeper.”

“I am. Now.”

“What do you think? About your blanket and the healings, I mean.”

“If it’s true, it wasn’t the blanket.”

“What then?”

Solemn thought a moment. A long one. “Their own belief maybe. Maybe an accident of timing. Not my blanket. Not me.”

Solemn stared where Cork was standing, but what he saw seemed somewhere beyond Cork.

“They’re looking to me for something I can’t give them. I spent a few minutes with Jesus. We talked, that’s all. I didn’t get healing powers. I can’t drive out demons. All I came away with was a little peace. My own peace. If they expect something from me, they’ll be disappointed. Whatever happened out there this morning, it wasn’t me. I’d know if it was me, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t I know?”

His eyes drifted to the floor like feathers falling from a wing.

“God,” he said, “I hope it’s not me.”