The staked Goat

Dale—that’s the gay guy—I think he was in the process of losing his lover, and I think he knew it. That pretty much left Carol, Al’s boss being a schmuck on any fist.”
    I paused to let her get a word in edgewise. I heard a car door slam behind me. An elderly woman and a small boy left the car, the boy bounding ahead.
    ”Washington? Oh, I had a ball in Washington. First I got mugged, then I got set up by J.T. From the army, remember? Then...”
    I phrased my situation with Jacquie and rescue as delicately as I could. ”You saved me, Beth. As usual. But I felt badly about having to deck the MP. I hope J.T. at least has the balls to own up and not use the kid as a scapegoat. I...”
    The boy from the car pulled even with us and stared at me. Maybe I was talking a little loudly. It’s hard for me to tell sometimes. The boy, who was about seven years old, twisted around and darted off, stopping briefly at each gravestone before running to the next.
    Then a voice from behind me. ”Harleee! Harley. You come back now, you heah? Right now. Harley?” The woman was dressed in a light blue pantsuit and a heavy, ill-fitting outer coat.
    ”He must be over here, Gram,” Harley replied. The boy had none of the woman’s strong Southern accent.
    ”Harley, he can’t be over theah, boy! That’s the Fs and the Gs. He’s over theah. In the Ls, where he belongs. Harley!”
    I was tempted to tell the woman that this cemetery wasn’t alphabetical, that the assignment of resting places was a function of price and chronology.
    ”I see an L over here, Gram! In fact, two Ls.”
    ”Harley, Gramps is over theah. He has been over theah for seventeen months. To the left, Harley, to the left. By the Ls.”
    ”I see another L!” called Harley back, and continued his survey.
    The elderly woman muttered none too sweetly under her breath. She began to stomp doggedly down the path to the left.
    I looked down at Beth’s headstone. Elizabeth Mary Devlin Cuddy. Would she be in the Cs for Cuddy, or the Ds for Devlin, or even the Bs for Beth....
    You jerk! The Bs. ”I had a lotta luck with the Bs, John-boy.” Al, who never expressed a liking for hockey, or betting on it, but who always loved looking through phone books for people he knew. Blowing half an R-and-R on the Honolulu directory. Now I knew how Al had found his killer.
    And I knew I could find him, too.
    I turned back to Beth. I started to tell her about Nancy, and the glow, but after a few sentences she could tell my heart wasn’t in it. She shooed me off.
     
    I got back to Nancy’s place and realized I had no key to her building’s front door. I debated pushing the Lynches’ bell for about two minutes, shivering on the front steps and anxious to go through the telephone book. I was about to buzz them when I heard two quick honks from the street. It was Nancy.
    She got out with a grocery bag in the crook of her right arm. She strode up to me. She had the spring of an athlete, even with the bag.
    ”You don’t look any better in that hat than I do.” She laughed, more with her eyes than her voice.
    I smiled and thought about offering to take the bag. I decided not to, chivalry yielding to feminism.
    ”Here,” she said, shoving the bag into my arms. ”Hold this.”
    She keyed the lock. We went in and upstairs, me carrying the bag.
    ”Set it on the kitchen table.”
    I did. She tossed off her coat and crossed to the table. She rummaged around in the bag, producing a packet of disposable Bic razors, some shaving cream, a toothbrush, and some Old Spice stick deodorant.
    I scratched elaborately under my arms. ”That bad, huh?”
    She laughed again, music.
    ”It occurred to me this morning that I wasn’t too well stocked for male guests with no luggage.” She pulled out a package of nondescript briefs and two exceptionally cheap-looking dress shirts.
    ”I guessed on size but skimped on quality.” She shrugged. ”I didn’t want to buy good stuff that wouldn’t fit.”
    I thanked her and pulled off the watch cap.
    Reflexively she put her fist in her mouth to stifle a shriek. ”Maybe I should have favored a hairbrush over the toothbrush.”
    I popped in the bathroom. I looked like a punk rocker only halfway down the assembly line. I came back out and scooped up the things she’d bought for me.
    ”Maybe I should just shave my head while I’m at it.”
    ”Oh, do. That’ll certainly make you inconspicuous.”
    We both laughed. She gave me a quick, strong hug