M Is for Malice by Sue Grafton Page A

you think there's anything wrong?"
    "Let's don't talk at cross-purposes," he said. "You obviously have something to say, so why don't you say it."
    "I don't want to. It doesn't matter."
    "Kinsey."
    "What?"
    "Come on. Just say it. There's no penalty for being honest."
    "I don't know how to say it. You're here for four days and what am I supposed to do with that? I'm not good at being left. It's the story of my life. Why get enmeshed when all it means is I get to have my heart ripped out?"
    He lifted his eyebrows, shrugging with his face. "I don't know what to tell you. I can't promise to stay. I've never stayed in one place for more than six months max. Why can't we live in the present? Why does everything have to have a guarantee attached?"
    "I'm not talking about guarantees."
    "I think you are," he said. "You want a lien against the future, when the fact is you don't know any more than I do about what's coming next."
    "Well, that's true and I'm not arguing that. All I'm saying is I don't want to get involved in an on-again-off-again relationship, which is what this is."
    Dietz's expression was pained. "I won't lie. I can't pretend I'll stay when I know I won't. What good would that do?"
    I could feel my frustration rise. "I don't want you to pretend and I'm not asking you to promise. I'm just trying to be honest."
    "About what?"
    "About everything. People have rejected me all my life. Sometimes it's death or desertion. infidelity, betrayal. You name it. I've experienced every form of emotional treachery there is. Well, big deal. Everybody's suffered something in life and so what? I'm not sitting around feeling sorry for myself, but I'd have to be a fool to lay myself open to that shit again."
    "I understand that. I hear you and believe me, I don't want to be the one to cause you pain. This is not about you. It's about me. I'm restless by nature. I hate to feel trapped. That's how I am. Pen me in and I'll tear the place apart trying to get out," he said. "My people were nomads. We were always on the move. Always on the road. We lived out of suitcases. To me, being in one spot is oppressive. You want to talk about death. It's the worst. When I was growing up, if we stayed in one town for long, my old man would get busted. He'd end up in county jail or in the hospital or the local drunk tank. Any school I attended, I was always the new kid and I'd have to fight my way across the school yard just to stay alive. The happiest day of my life was the day we hit the road again."
    "Free at last," I interjected.
    "That's right. It's not that I might not want to stay. It's that I'm incapable of it."
    "Oh, right. 'Incapable.' Well, that explains it. You're excused," I said.
    "Don't be so touchy. You know what I mean. God almighty, I'm not proud of myself. I don't relish the fact that I'm a rolling stone. I just don't want to kid myself and I don't want to kid you."
    "Thank you. That's great. In the meantime, I'm sure you have ways of amusing yourself."
    He squinted. "Where did that come from?"
    "This is hopeless," I said. "I don't know why we even bother with this. You're addicted to wandering and I'm rooted in place. You can't stay and I can't leave because I love where I am. This is your biennial interlude and I'm here for the duration, which means I'm probably doomed to a lifetime of guys like you."
    " 'Guys like me?' That's nice. What does that mean?"
    "Just what it says. Emotionally claustrophobic. You're a basket case. So as long as I'm attracted to guys like you, I can bypass my own-" I stopped short, feeling like one of those cartoon dogs, skidding on a cartoon floor.
    "Your own what?"
    "None of your business," I said. "Let's drop the conversation. I should have kept my mouth shut. I end up sounding like a whiner, which is not what I intend."
    "You're always so worried about sounding like a whiner," he said. "Who cares if you whine? Be my guest."
    "Oh, now you say that."
    "Say what?" he said, exasperated.
    I assumed an attitude of