Chapter 53Squatting between the corpse and the front door, the Miraclemaker patted the pockets of the dead husband's bluejeans, then the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. He jostled the man's limp hands, fished around under his body...but he couldn't locate the keys.
Sighing, he scanned the site of the killing. There were groceries scattered everywhere, but no bits of metal caught his eye.
Dropping to his knees, he rifled through the dumped groceries. He decided that the keys had to be somewhere in that litter; probably, the husband had let them fall at the same time that he'd released the two bags.
The Miraclemaker rummaged through the mess, tossing aside jars of baby food and packs of cigarettes. He dumped out what was left in the grocery bags, vigorously combed through that rub
