fun. What are you seeing?”
“ No Way Out with that actor, Kevin Costner. You think this is okay?” He held his arms out, asking me to make a judgment about his slacks and collared T-shirt.
“You look fine.”
“Thanks. What are you up to?”
“I’m on a job up in the Santa Maria area. I’ll be driving back and forth, but I don’t want you to worry if you don’t see me for a couple of days. You better get a move on. Traffic’s tricky at this hour.”
I watched him cross to his two-car garage, pausing long enough to see which car he took. His pride and joy is a 1932 Chevrolet, the five-window coupe, painted bright yellow. His other car is a workaday station wagon, which is serviceable but no great shakes. He backed down the drive in the vintage Chevy, waving at me as he disappeared from sight.
Once in my apartment, I dropped my shoulder bag on a kitchen stool and went through my usual ritual of phone messages and mail. Cheney had called to say hi and he’d catch me later. Mail was boring. When I peered into the refrigerator, the sight that greeted me was no big surprise. The contents consisted of condiments—mustard, pickles, olives, and a jar of jalapeños—a stick of butter, a head of browning lettuce, and a six-pack of Diet Pepsi. I hadn’t been to the grocery store for days, which meant I’d either have to make a supermarket run or eat out again. While I debated, I returned Cheney’s call. I knew he’d be gone, but I left a lengthy message, telling him what I was up to. I wasn’t sure what my schedule would look like after tomorrow, but I said I’d be in touch. Already this was feeling like the same sort of absentee relationship I’d had with Robert Dietz. How do I get myself into these situations with men?
I was halfway to Rosie’s, less than thrilled with the prospect, when I thought about Sneaky Pete’s. I knew Tannie would be working, and it occurred to me that we could chat about Daisy and Violet while I indulged in another spicy salami concoction on a kaiser roll. I trotted back to my car and drove into town.
Sneaky Pete’s is a neighborhood hangout, serving a loyal clientele in much the way Rosie’s does. Tannie spotted me when I walked in. I took a stool at the bar, waiting while she finished drawing two beers for a couple near the window. It was not quite six and quiet for a Wednesday night. Even the volume on the jukebox had been turned down to a tolerable level.
She returned to the bar and took out a wineglass and a bottle of Edna Valley, saying, “You drink Chardonnay, right?”
“Good memory.”
“That’s my job. Daisy says the three of us are having lunch tomorrow.”
“That’s the plan. I told her I’d call her as soon as I’m free. What time are you driving up?”
“I’m not sure yet, but early. I’ll find out where you’re going and I’ll meet you there.” She poured my wine and then picked up her cigarette and took one last drag before she stubbed it out. “One of these days I’ll quit. Working here, you have to smoke in self-defense. So how goes the battle? Daisy says you’re already hard at work.”
“Well, I’m doing what I can. She drove me around the area so I could get the lay of the land. Serena Station’s depressing.”
“Isn’t it,” she said. “You meet Foley?”
“I spoke to that retired sheriff’s department sergeant first and then to him.”
“That must have been intense.”
“Very,” I said. I took a sip of my wine. “You didn’t tell me you had a house up there. Daisy took me by yesterday afternoon so I could see. Too bad about the fire.”
“We’re lucky they caught it when they did or the house would be gone. We’ve got a deputy patrolling now to keep the riffraff out. My brother hates the place.”
“Daisy says you hope to buy him out.”
“If I can get him to agree. He’s being his usual bullheaded self, but I think he’ll knuckle under in the end. His wife’s on my team. She’s got no interest in
“ No Way Out with that actor, Kevin Costner. You think this is okay?” He held his arms out, asking me to make a judgment about his slacks and collared T-shirt.
“You look fine.”
“Thanks. What are you up to?”
“I’m on a job up in the Santa Maria area. I’ll be driving back and forth, but I don’t want you to worry if you don’t see me for a couple of days. You better get a move on. Traffic’s tricky at this hour.”
I watched him cross to his two-car garage, pausing long enough to see which car he took. His pride and joy is a 1932 Chevrolet, the five-window coupe, painted bright yellow. His other car is a workaday station wagon, which is serviceable but no great shakes. He backed down the drive in the vintage Chevy, waving at me as he disappeared from sight.
Once in my apartment, I dropped my shoulder bag on a kitchen stool and went through my usual ritual of phone messages and mail. Cheney had called to say hi and he’d catch me later. Mail was boring. When I peered into the refrigerator, the sight that greeted me was no big surprise. The contents consisted of condiments—mustard, pickles, olives, and a jar of jalapeños—a stick of butter, a head of browning lettuce, and a six-pack of Diet Pepsi. I hadn’t been to the grocery store for days, which meant I’d either have to make a supermarket run or eat out again. While I debated, I returned Cheney’s call. I knew he’d be gone, but I left a lengthy message, telling him what I was up to. I wasn’t sure what my schedule would look like after tomorrow, but I said I’d be in touch. Already this was feeling like the same sort of absentee relationship I’d had with Robert Dietz. How do I get myself into these situations with men?
I was halfway to Rosie’s, less than thrilled with the prospect, when I thought about Sneaky Pete’s. I knew Tannie would be working, and it occurred to me that we could chat about Daisy and Violet while I indulged in another spicy salami concoction on a kaiser roll. I trotted back to my car and drove into town.
Sneaky Pete’s is a neighborhood hangout, serving a loyal clientele in much the way Rosie’s does. Tannie spotted me when I walked in. I took a stool at the bar, waiting while she finished drawing two beers for a couple near the window. It was not quite six and quiet for a Wednesday night. Even the volume on the jukebox had been turned down to a tolerable level.
She returned to the bar and took out a wineglass and a bottle of Edna Valley, saying, “You drink Chardonnay, right?”
“Good memory.”
“That’s my job. Daisy says the three of us are having lunch tomorrow.”
“That’s the plan. I told her I’d call her as soon as I’m free. What time are you driving up?”
“I’m not sure yet, but early. I’ll find out where you’re going and I’ll meet you there.” She poured my wine and then picked up her cigarette and took one last drag before she stubbed it out. “One of these days I’ll quit. Working here, you have to smoke in self-defense. So how goes the battle? Daisy says you’re already hard at work.”
“Well, I’m doing what I can. She drove me around the area so I could get the lay of the land. Serena Station’s depressing.”
“Isn’t it,” she said. “You meet Foley?”
“I spoke to that retired sheriff’s department sergeant first and then to him.”
“That must have been intense.”
“Very,” I said. I took a sip of my wine. “You didn’t tell me you had a house up there. Daisy took me by yesterday afternoon so I could see. Too bad about the fire.”
“We’re lucky they caught it when they did or the house would be gone. We’ve got a deputy patrolling now to keep the riffraff out. My brother hates the place.”
“Daisy says you hope to buy him out.”
“If I can get him to agree. He’s being his usual bullheaded self, but I think he’ll knuckle under in the end. His wife’s on my team. She’s got no interest in
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