Shallow Graves

of his mouth and said, “Trial is set for Monday morning. I know a local lawyer, you want.”
    Pellam pushed his fists out toward the man’s chest. “What I want is the cuffs off. They’re a little disruptive.”
    PELLAM SAT IN the passenger seat as Meg pushed the little car up through the gears and shot out of town.
    He casually slipped the seat belt and shoulder harness on. He noticed the knob on the manual transmission gearshift was twisted and worn from heavy use, the gear position symbol upside down. As if to show him why, she downshifted on a gentle curve and brought the speed back up to about seventy.
    It was a forty zone.
    Over the roar of the engine, he said, “Thanks. I—”
    Meg shook her head.
    He didn’t know what she meant: that she didn’t want him to talk or that she couldn’t hear him. The tach was almost redlined.
    Pellam looked around. The streets were empty. The parking lot next to a church was full of small trucks and cars. It was classic American religion—a sweeping white steeple and red brick, symmetrical, unchallenging, simple. He wondered what denomination it was, then decided it didn’t really matter; religionin Cleary would be pretty much the same whatever church you happened to be in.
    “Where’s Sam?”
    “Sunday school.”
    “Where’s Keith?”
    “Some errand then he was going to the factory.”
    “Oh.”
    They drove in silence to the house. To her house. In her car.
    With her flinty eyes and taut mouth.
    When they got there, she left four-foot skid marks in the gravel and climbed out, slamming the thin door with a crash. She walked up on the porch, leaving Pellam in the passenger seat.
    She disappeared inside.
    He sat.
    She reappeared a minute later and said, “You coming inside or not?”
    “Well, I guess I—” he said to her receding back.
    The house was quiet. A funny thing, an old house like this—huge and warm with a woody-smelling heat coming up from parquet floors—being quiet. A house that ought to have a dozen kids running around in it, raising all kinds of hell, adults doing their weekend tasks. But it was still, completely still.
    He followed her into the kitchen. She was setting up a Mr. Coffee. She put rolls in the oven. He crossed his arms. She didn’t say anything. He leaned against the counter. He unfolded his arms and sat down. He said, “I—”
    She slammed the coffee can down, spun to face him. “I’ve only got one question.”
    “You got me out of jail to ask me a question?”
    “Did Sam get that shit from you?”
    He didn’t answer.
    She looked at him.
    Pellam stood up. “If you think that then I’m just going to walk back to your lockup, thanks.”
    Meg walked over to him and stood inches away. “I want you to say it. I want you to tell me.”
    “I didn’t give him any drugs.”
    She turned away.
    He said, “I thought you knew me . . . I thought we knew each other better than that.”
    Then she was digging in her purse, pulling out sheets of paper.
    He squinted. His right eye blurred. A renegade bit of dirt from the night before shifted. He wiped tears. Then he was focusing on the sheets of paper, the kind with the holes in the side. She’d printed something out of a computer.
    Pellam frowned and leaned forward.
    So that was it.
    He cleared his throat. Even here. Cleary, New York, population 5800. Even here.
    Pellam said softly, “So you know.”
    Meg pushed the printouts toward him. They were dirty and well read.
    Honing in on his eyes, she said, “I thought I’d heard your name. When I was a model in New York I got interested in movies. I used to buy some of the film magazines, the highbrow ones. I knew your name was familiar.”
    He lifted several of the articles, glancing at newspaper headlines he could recite in his sleep.
    Pellam’s “Time Out of Mind”—L.A. Film CriticsTop Pick for Independents, New Director Pellam Captures Cannes, Sundance. New York Film Festival Must: Pellam’s “Sandra’s Apartment.”
    Then the others, with words that often did come to him in his sleep: Film Director Indicted in Drug Death of Star. Pellam Trial Revelation: Drugs “Flowed” on Set. Director, Associate Indicted in Star’s OD Death. Death Movie “Central Standard Time” Shelved as Backers Drop Out.
    He dropped them on the table. He stood up. “Better be going.”

Chapter 17
    MEG STEPPED BETWEEN him and the door. Took his arm, and held it hard.
    “No, please. I don’t want you to go. I was so scared about Sam. I