Shallow Graves

I’d like to get your opinion on what we were talking about before. You know.”
    Pellam had no clue. “Sure thing. Evening, gentlemen.”
    By the time he got to the sidewalk Meg had finished locking the door and was moving toward her car.
    He felt a presence at his side. It startled him. Someone took his arm.
    Janine kissed his neck. “It’s Cecil B.” She squeezed his biceps into her breast. “I just closed up shop and was going to stop by your camper and say hi. How are you, darling?”
    “Doing good,” Pellam said, forcing himself not to look toward Meg’s receding form.
    She squeezed his thigh, mindful of the bruise, and said, “You don’t look as sore as last night.” A sly grin. “I was thinking, love, you still haven’t seen my house. Come by and I’ll make you dinner. I’ll even cook meat, you want.”
    “How about a rain check? I’ve got to send a package off to my studio. I’ll be working all night.”
    “I’ve got an awareness group tomorrow and women’s crisis intervention the day after. Maybe I can . . . Oh, hell, then my old man’s coming by. He’s bringing his new cycle over to show me. . . .” She stood back and examined his face. “Hey, you’re not jealous, are you?”
    “Not a bit.”
    “That’s a good boy.” She held his eyes in a vise grip, then leaned forward suddenly and kissed his mouth. Hers was partly open. He recoiled for an instant in surprise, then returned the kiss.
    Janine said, “Then the Apple Festival’s on Saturday and I’m working a booth. How would Sunday be?”
    “Sure. Good.”
    Where was Meg? He’d lost her. Goddamn, why’d she worn a black jacket? He couldn’t see her. Helooked back at Janine, who was saying, “You better not get cramps anywhere but in your writing hand.” She punched him playfully on the jaw, though bone connected with bone and he blinked. She said, “And you better not stand me up. Mama doesn’t like to be stood up.”
    “Yes, dear.” He smiled and stood hard on the sarcasm.
    Not far away Meg’s Toyota fired up. He heard the bubble of the exhaust and saw the gray car back out of its stall. He said, “Well, much as I hate it, better go do some work. Sunday, then?”
    “I close the shop at four. Why don’t I come by the camper after? We’ll drive home together. How’s that?”
    “Sounds great.”
    He kissed her cheek, broke away. As he started toward the Toyota he saw the little car speed away. The brake lights flashed as it made a fast turn and then was gone.
    “Damn.”
    Pellam slowed his walk. Stopped and headed back toward the camper.
    Thinking about junkyards.
    He walked to the end of the deserted block and turned the corner onto the side street where the Winnebago was parked.
    Thinking about getting something to eat.
    Thinking about—
    He nearly walked into the car. The little gray Toyota, idling at the curbside.
    When he put his hands on the roof and bent down to the window, where she sat holding the wheel inboth hands, staring straight ahead, she said, “You’re alone.”
    “Nope. I’m with you.”
    “I thought you maybe had a date.”
    “Date?”
    “Weren’t you walking with . . .” She debated and the catty side won. “. . . Ms. 1969?”
    “Business,” he said.
    “Ah. Business.”
    Pellam asked, “How about a drink?”
    He knew she was going to say no but he was curious what form it would take. There were a thousand different ways a woman says no to a man and they all have different meaning.
    “I can’t. I’m going out with the girls tonight. Bridge.”
    “How about poker? I can get us into a game up the street.”
    She laughed. A moment passed. “I wanted to say I was sorry about your friend. I heard about the accident.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I also wanted to apologize.”
    He cocked an eyebrow toward her, and she added, “For the other day. In the hospital.”
    “Naw. I was out of line,” Pellam said. “I hate hospitals. They put me in a bad mood.”
    “No . . .” She studied the tachometer. “I was rude.”
    A muscle car went past, exhaust popping as it slowed for a stop sign, then took off again.
    She said, “There’s something else.”
    He smiled. “Is there?”
    Meg swallowed and tried to put up a shield againstthe flirt. “It’s kind of last minute. But you interested in coming over for dinner?”
    “You cook like you drive?”
    She blinked and tried to think of a comeback. He could see her thoughts racing. But she decided not to play the