Shallow Graves

distribution over here.”
    “Witches and sorcerers.”
    “Alchemists were considered scientists at the time,” Pellam said. “We did a lot of research. Turning lead into gold is called base alchemy. True alchemists practice spagyria.”
    He noticed Meg checking out the plates, pushing bowls toward Pellam when the helpings got too close to empty. Keith seemed fascinated with the story and wasn’t eating.
    “Spagyria?” Meg asked.
    Pellam said, “It means extracting basic properties from things, usually plants. What an alchemist does is try to find the essence of something and that essence supposedly had powers beyond just the chemical composition of the material.”
    Keith said, “What’s the movie about?”
    “It was based on a real story. In the late 1700s, in England, there was a rich man named James Price. He was like a lot of the wealthy then. You know, dabbling at science. Maybe he was a little more than a dabbler since he got named a Fellow of the Royal Society. He was also kind of a crank. A little bizarre. He set up a lab in his home—in Surrey, out in the country. He does all this secret work then calls a meeting of his friends and fellow scientists. He brought them into his lab, where he’d set up a display—the three basic ingredients of alchemy: mercury, nitrate and sulfur—”
    Keith laughed. “Hey, you know what those are?”
    Meg said, “Let him finish.”
    Pellam said to Keith, “What?”
    “A formula for a bullet. Nitrate and sulfur are in gunpowder and fulminate of mercury’s in the firing cap.”
    Pellam laughed. “Wish I’d known that. It would’ve been a nice metaphor for the flick. Anyway, Price also had some other ingredients—something secret—in covered boxes. He got this crowd together and made a grand entrance. He looked awful, though. Sick and pasty, exhausted. Then he mixed a white powder with the three basic ingredients and turned them into an ingot of silver. He did the same thing with a red powder and produced gold. The metals were tested by a metalsmith and were supposedly genuine.”
    “Then he sold the ingredients on late-night cable TV and made a fortune,” Meg said.
    Keith hushed her.
    Pellam continued, “But here’s the interesting part. Price kept up the alchemy and made a huge amount of gold but after a few months his health began to fail. Finally, when the Society insisted he do another experiment under observation, he agreed. Three members of the Society rode to his laboratory one morning. He invited them in, set up his chemicals and drank a cup of poison. He died right in front of them—without revealing what the powders were.”
    Keith, tilting back his chair, then said, “What was it, a hoax? And he had to kill himself?”
    “We left it up in the air. It’s tough to make movies based on true stories. You have to pamper reality.”
    Meg laughed at this.
    Keith suddenly squinted at Pellam. “You seem real familiar.”
    Pellam said, “Really?”
    “Were you ever famous?”
    Meg said, “Keith—”
    Pellam said seriously, “In my mother’s eyes.”
    Meg laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.”
    Keith shook his head. “It’ll come to me.” He squinted again in recognition but apparently the thought vanished; he began talking about his company, new product lines. Stories only a businessman would love. Pellam nodded and ground his teeth together to squash the yawns. He was pleased that Keith wasn’t a movie hound and hadn’t asked for one iota of Hollywood gossip. On the other hand he was a major bore. Pellam hardly listened to a word he said—until he realized Keith was talking about someone dubbed Miss Woodstock, who knew the astrological sign, as well as a few other intimate facts, of every single man in town. Meg leaned forward and with a coy smile caught Pellam’s eye. He knew what she was up to and kept his eyes on Keith until she disappeared into the kitchen of dishes.
    The womenfolk gone it was time to talk about serious stuff. Keith lowered his head and asked, “Have you talked to the insurance agent? About the accident?”
    “Not yet. Meg gave me his name. The doctor said he’d have a bill ready for me in a couple days. He was waiting for the X-ray lab’s bill.”
    “If you have any problems, you come to me, okay?”
    “Appreciate it.”
    “How long you think you’ll be in town?”
    “Don’t really know. I—”
    Meg returned. “Coffee’s almost ready.” She sat.
    “So tell us, you married?” Meg