Triple Threat

experience of being out here. In a small western town.” She shook her head, meaning: I don’t get it. “There’s nothing to experience. Not here. Dust maybe, rednecks, losers, coyotes. Hamlin’s got a mall.”
    Pellam wondered if the shopping center comment was delivered with the irony that seemed warranted. Apparently not.
    A few minutes later the huge, bearded mechanic lumbered into the office, rearranging the grease on his fingers with a filthy rag.
    “Damn shame ‘bout that pickup. Needin’ bodywork when you can still smell the new leather. That’s always the way, ain’t it? Now, miss, I got two options. First’ll get you home sooner: I can remove the old bulbs—that’s tricky since they’re busted—and then screw in new bulbs and mount the lenses. That’ll be four hundred eighty dollars. Number two, which I’d recommend, would include all that, plus the body work and replacing the hitch. You don’t want to tow nothing with it in that present condition. Paint, too.”
    “And how much is that?”
    “Twenty-eight fifty.”
    Hannah squinted. “Really? I can have my guy in Hamlin do the bodywork for a thousand. The hitch is fine, I’ll buff off the scratches myself. And why’s that even an option? Didn’t your brother-in-law tell you I was in a hurry?”
    “I—”
    “So, we’re down to option one. And let’s think it through.”
    “How’s that?”
    She continued patiently. “You can get bulbs for six bucks a pop at NAPA, cheaper at Wal-Mart. I need four of them. The lenses? Let’s be generous. Fifty bucks each. Just need two. That’s a grand total of one twenty-four in parts. Labor? Now, the bulbs
aren’t
screw-mount, like you said. They’re bayonet.”
    Rudy’s face had gone red beneath the smudges. “Well, I meant ‘screw,’ you know, in a like general sense.”
    “I’m sure you did,” Hannah muttered. Which was really a very funny line, even if she didn’t seem to realize it. “You put a glove on. Right? Stick your finger into the broken base and push and twist. You can do all four in a minute or two. Takes you another five minutes to mount the new ones. So you’re basically charging me four hundred dollars for twenty minutes’ work. That’s a thousand dollars an hour. My lawyer doesn’t charge that. Does yours?” A look at Pellam.
    “I don’t have a lawyer.” He did but he wasn’t going to get involved in this. He was enjoying himself too much.
    Silence for a moment.
    “I have overhead” was the only defense Rudy could mount.
    From beneath her dark, silken eyebrows, she gazed unflinchingly into his evasive eyes.
    “Two fifty,” he muttered.
    “One fifty.”
    “Two fifty.”
    “One fifty,” Hannah said firmly.
    “Cash?” came the uneasy riposte.
    “Cash.”
    “Okay. Jesus.” The mechanic sullenly retreated into his garage to fetch the tools.
    Pellam glanced at the Winnebago. He had no talent whatsoever when it came to motor vehicles, except for the uncanny ability to attract state troopers when he was speeding. Rudy was going to hose him. Maybe he should have Hannah go over the estimate.
    He walked to the vending machine and bought a Moon Pie. Pellam noted the “complimentary” coffee and thought about making a joke that it
better
say nice things about you because it looked like sludge. But Hannah just didn’t seem to be the sort to share clever comments with. He bought a vending machine instant coffee. Which wasn’t terrible, with the double milk powder.
    “You really picked that fellow up?” Pellam asked her after a moment. “I clock a hundred thousand miles a year but I never pick up hitchers.”
    “Even pretty women?”
    “Especially them. Though I’ve been tempted.” A glance into her pale eyes. Then he grazed her tan.
    She chose not to flirt back. “I normally wouldn’t’ve, but he did help me out. And I mean, really, a poet or grad student? He’s about as harmless as they come.”
    “Still could be pretty dangerous,” Pellam said gravely.
    She looked at him with consideration.
    “What if he started reciting poetry at you?”
    A blink. “Actually, he did. And it sucks.”
    “You ever been to Berkeley?”
    “No. I don’t travel much. Not out of the state.”
    Pellam had scouted for a film there. The movie was about the regents at a fictional school, which happened to look a lot like UC-B, tear-gassing protesting students in the sixties, and the rise of the counterculture. All very politically correct. The critics liked