Shallow Graves

into the R&W parking lot, much of which was piled high with twisted copper piping. The pudgy man Pellam had spoken to yesterday—Bobby, herecalled—stood looking at it like a proud father, his hands on his ample hips. He wore bib overalls and a seersucker hat, like a train engineer’s.
    Pellam and Keith climbed out, walked up to him.
    Keith said, “Hey.”
    “Hey, Mr. Torrens. How you doing?”
    “Not bad. How’s business?”
    “Lookit this,” Bobby said proudly.
    Keith nodded.
    Pellam examined the tangle of pipe. “Not bad.”
    “No shittin’.” He laughed at the obvious statement.
    Three men, staring down at ten cubic yards of pipe. Nodding, impressed the way men always are at good finds.
    Pellam glanced along the front of the fence toward the charred wreck. It was lit by bare incandescent bulbs in mechanic’s hand-held light baskets.
    With an odd formality Bobby stuck out his hand. “How you doing, sir? You’re that movie guy, right?”
    Pellam blinked. “That’s right. We’re here about what I was asking you before. The car?”
    “Car?”
    “I was talking to you about that wreck.” He nodded toward the remains.
    The man frowned. “Don’t believe so. No.”
    Pellam glanced at him. “We were talking about that car down there. The wreck.”
    The man lifted his hat and greasy bangs dropped onto his forehead. “Don’t recall that.”
    Oh, I get it.
    Pellam sighed, reaching for his pocket. He found a bill and was starting to pull it out when the man said, “Bobby.”
    “What?”
    “You were talking to my brother. Bobby. I’m Billy.”
    Oh. The W in R&W. Got it.
    Keith laughed. “Billy and Bobby’re twins.”
    Billy said, “But don’t let that stop you.” He accepted the twenty.
    “You mind if we take a look at the wreck?”
    “If you’re in the market for a car,” Billy said, shrugging, “I can do better’n that. But help yourself.” He turned back to his precious pipe.
    They walked toward the burnt-out car.
    Pellam whispered to Keith, “Twins?”
    “You do horror films for your company, I’ll bet you could get ’em pretty cheap.”
    They walked around the wreck. Pellam stopped suddenly.
    “It’s gone.”
    Keith blinked and leaned forward. Someone had used an acetylene torch to cut off the trunk and rear portions of the fenders.
    Pellam called, “Excuse me. . . .”
    Billy tore himself away from his pipe. “Yessir?”
    He wandered slowly to the wreck.
    Pellam said, “What happened to the metal here? The back portions?”
    “Whatsat?” Billy called.
    “Look here,” Keith said.
    “Shit, it’s gone,” Billy said.
    “I got the gist of that,” Pellam said.
    “Shit.” The twin put his hands on his hips and looked around, like he was searching for a dropped quarter.
    Keith said, “Bobby start to cut her up?”
    “Naw, he’s not into like heavy work. Damn now. Who’d come by and steal half a burnt car?”
    Keith and Pellam walked back to their vehicles. “I’m sorry. Wild-goose chase.”
    Keith said, “It’s pretty funny, though. You go out to look at the car and find what looks like evidence. Next thing, you come back and that part’s gone.”
    “Yeah, funny.”
    BILLY STOOD IN the shack, waving goodbye to Keith Torrens and the movie man. He picked up the phone and punched in a number. Bobby answered on the first ring. He must have known it was Billy because he just picked up the phone and said, “So what is it now?”
    “Hey, guess who was just here.”
    “Lessee, Elvis’s ghost, singing ‘Love Me Tender.’ ”
    “Naw,” Billy said, “but wish it was. That’d be a fuck of a lot better for you and me.”

Chapter 11
    “ ARE YOU ALL RIGHT ?”
    Wexell Ambler’s lover didn’t answer him.
    After a moment, he gripped her buttocks tighter and dug his nails, which were long for a man’s, into her flesh. She whimpered. He remembered to relax his grip somewhat.
    “Does it hurt?” he asked. “Does it—”
    “Wex, oh—”
    “—hurt?”
    She whimpered again and pressed her forehead against his pulsing neck.
    When they’d begun seeing each other it had been awkward.
    Several problems.
    First, neither had ever had an affair before and they didn’t know what you did and didn’t do. Surely affairs had special protocols—How do you make dates? Do you even call them “dates”? Do you shop at different grocery stores to avoid chance meetings when you’re with your spouse? Or is it better to see each other casually like that and avoid