We crossed the street and went inside the bike shop. Alex was leaning over a bike with a young boy, and I was once again struck by his resemblance to his uncle Henry.
“You see, Manuel, if you keep skidding to a stop with your bike you’re going to go through a lot of tires. I don’t think your mom will be thrilled with that.”
Josh’s statement left me with a chill. Was Scott Matthews using his own son to do his dirty work, or was this something he had done on his own? I feared for the future of Kingsbury if the parents’ bigotry was being passed on to the youth.
We had our fill of football by the beginning of the last quarter—Kensington was slaughtering Kingsbury High. Thankfully, I’d had the time to pick up some cheap tires earlier in the day, so Stephen dropped me off at my bike and I rode over to the radio station; thanks to the headlight the church had purchased for my bike I was able to ride it at night.
The last football game I had been to was in high school, more years ago than I cared to think about. It was the Saints game where my dad bought me the cap. As a teenager, I played baseball and later discovered ice hockey—which was now my personal favorite. But this particular football game was yet another Kingsbury tradition just as important to the town as the Fiesta.
When I caught up with him, Stephen was on the other end of the park at the Baptist Women’s pie booth paying for a chocolate cream pie.
Stephen was already at a table perusing a menu when I arrived at Main Street. “Find anything that suites your picky palate?” He looked up and frowned. “I think I’ll try the spaghetti. I’m sure it’s just as good as Mama’s,” he said sarcastically.
As I stood in the back, my congregation filed out without so much as a word to me. The normal handshaking joviality was missing. A few nodded and smiled as they went past, but it was the quietest I ever remembered the church being.
Lola dropped me off at my apartment. Even though it was late, I opened the window that faced the Kings River. I was lucky to live at the Riverside Apartments. It wasn’t a new complex but the view made up for its age.
I asked Kevin when Jim would be working again. He said Jim wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night’s graveyard shift. I intended to come back and talk with him, though I didn’t seriously consider him a suspect…
By the time we finished lunch, it was nearly dinnertime and the park was beginning to hum with activity. Ready to take on the task of the food booths, it hit me that I hadn’t told anyone about the arguments I’d overheard.
