Charles Grant - Night Songs

Colin raised a warning finger. "Mr. Nichols, you must never underestimate the power of a Native American."

"What the hell is that?"

"An Indian," he said solemnly. "Garve has a little Navaho blood in him, remember? They have power we poor whites don't."

"Shit. The only power he's got is to fire my ass if I don't get back to work."

"Point and hint taken," Colin said with a smile, and gave him a two-fingered salute before moving on.

Eliot grinned, returned the salute, and was in the office before Colin had a chance to say good-bye.

A wooded lot separated the police station from a long, low building with a red-tiled roof and white clapboard siding. On one end was a hardware store, on the other a five-and-dime; in the center was Fletcher's Drugs, one of the few local businesses that kept normal hours once the season was over. It was brightly lighted, its aisles wide and uncluttered, and was serviced by a short counter near the door and a longer one in back.

Peg was there, and she waved when he came in. He smiled and moved toward her, a loud greeting at his lips swallowed when he heard giggling and a slap off to his left. Immediately, he veered over, toward a display case of costume jewelry. As he rounded a rack of greeting cards for Halloween, he almost collided with Denise, who was dancing away from Cart Naughton's grasping hand. Without a pause, he said, "There's no one up front, you'll have to pay for that in back," and pointed to the ring box in the boy's his pocket.

"Yeah," Naughton said, "I was gonna." A careful touch to his hair and he swaggered away, Colin slowly following with Denise at his side.

At the register, Peg was ringing up the sale and dropping the box into a white paper bag. She smiled at Cart, at Denise and asked if she'd seen her brother.

"I don't know where he is," she said without interest. "Maybe he tried to walk on water and drowned." Then she giggled, took Cart's arm, and they left hip to hip.

Colin leaned against the counter and watched them, saw them laughing hysterically as they passed by the window, nearly colliding with a woman pushing a shopping cart filled with groceries. "A lovely couple. The salt of the earth."

"She's a bitch," Peg said, "and he's a prick. Rumor has it his father never wanted him and isn't above letting him know it. On the other hand, there's also a rumor that he wasn't born at all, that he was found in a cave by Tess Mayfair, who thought he was the reincarnation of John Wayne. I, myself, of course, do not listen to such nonsense because I am a professional dedicated to alleviating all human misery with two aspirins and a condom."

He laughed and turned to face her, and was taken as always by the sparks in her auburn hair, by the smooth lines of her face, by the green-gray of her wide eyes so much like his own. A frilled white blouse and a simple black skirt, with a thin gold chain looped close about her neck. He felt himself blushing like ten kinds of a fool, his anger at Cameron now completely out of mind.

"You want something, teach?" she asked with a mock frown. "You want me to answer that?"

"Not now," she said.

He tried to ignore the suggestive tone, and looked around the store as if searching for something. She did that to him, knew it, and loved it-innuendo and leering, former provinces of the male. It had taken him a while to get used to it, longer still to understand she was only partly jesting.

"The party," she said, slamming the register drawer shut.

"Huh?"

She leaned her elbows on the counter, and rapped her knuckles on his head. "Earth to Colin Ross. Hello in there, are you still with me? I said party. Maybe you've heard about it? Robert Cameron? Free booze and food? He's the opposition, in case you've forgotten."

"Believe me, I haven't forgotten."

"Then will you take me?" And suddenly she smiled slyly. "To the party, I mean."

"I didn't think you meant anything else," he protested.

"Sure, okay. But I want to know now, because if we're going, I have to get a sitter for Matt."

He leaned close, and looked anxious. "Will you just die if you don't go? I mean, will you absolutely and positively wither from mortification at missing the social event of the year?"

"Like a magnolia in a blizzard."

"Well-"

"And I won't ever be able to show myself in town again. My god, Colin, I'd be another Hester Prynne."

"Since you put it that way, I suppose I'll have to."

She laughed and kissed quickly the tip of his nose. "He'll die! God, Colin, he'll have a class-A fit!"

"Yeah." And he nodded.

He had planned to use the occasion to sound out his strength, but having Peg there on his arm would jab yet another thorn in Cameron's tender side. A small one, but nagging, and there'd be no Androcles around to pull it out and make him grateful. Bob Cameron jealous and being forced to hold it in was something he definitely did not want to miss.

Petty, he supposed, but why the hell not.

Peg rapped him again on the forehead, to show him she knew exactly what he was thinking.

He exaggerated a pained expression and ducked away before she could hit him again. "Where's Muriel?" he said, looking around the store for signs of Peg's regular clerk.

She scowled. "Family trouble, she says. She won't be in for at least another hour.

"Ha. She probably found a hot pinochle game at the boarding house. If you want the truth, I think you pay her too much. She makes enough for both of us with those damned cards of hers."

"Muriel North," she said mock-primly, "is a pillar of the church, a fine and upstanding woman, and I have never heard a foul word spoken from her lips. I trust her implicitly."

"She's still a shark, Peg. I know. I lost fifty bucks to her my first week on the island. Never again. She respects me now because she knows I'm not stupid."

Then his attention wandered as he saw a flyer for a new flavor ice cream being touted by Naughton's Market. It made him think of the luncheonette, closed now and looking old. "Lilla," he said softly.

Peg frowned. "Lilla?"

"I just had a thought," he said, tapping the paper to show her the connection. "I wonder if she'd go tomorrow? I mean, I know it's only a couple days after the funeral, but with that storm coming I don't know if she should be alone. Besides, she's been hiding out there in that shack for so long, it would do her good to get out and see people again."

Peg's smile was small and loving. "Leave it to you to think of something no one else would. Tell you what, we'll-" She snapped her fingers suddenly. "Oh, hell, Col, would you do me a favor?"

"Ask."

She fussed meaninglessly with the register. "You're not going home to work or anything? I mean, you said you were taking some time off, but-"

"Nope. Hadn't planned on it."

She looked at him closely, at his eyes and the set of his mouth, to be sure he wasn't simply being polite. Then she ran a slow dusting finger over the top of the counter. "Well, look, I really could use your help for a while, honest. I've got an appointment in ten minutes and I don't dare leave the place empty. Frankie, the sweetheart, hasn't shown up yet."

"You mean you want me to run the store? Alone?"

Before he could move, she was already around the counter and shrugging into a green jacket he'd given her on her last birthday.

"Nothing to it," she said hurriedly. "You've worked the cash register before, and you know the prices. If someone brings in a prescription, tell them to come back in an hour. I should be back by then."

"But where-"

She kissed his cheek and lay a palm against his chest. "You're a darling, you know that, right?"

"I think I'm a sucker."

She agreed with a wink and headed for the door.

He watched her with a baffled smile, then remembered why he had come. "Hey, Peg," he called after her, "will you go for a drive with me later? When Muriel comes in?"

She nodded without turning, gave him a wave over her shoulder and was gone before he knew it. Reprieve, he thought with a guilty sigh of relief; the governor hasn't called, but the power's temporarily gone out.

He took off his jacket and shoved the briefcase behind the counter. Ten minutes of wandering around the store, picking up boxes and bottles and putting them back down, finger-dusting the shelves, rearranging a few books into their proper slots. A number of customers came in and bought the local paper, chatted about leaving before the Screamer hit, asked after Peg and left with amused smiles. He stood at the entrance and watched the trees push back at the breeze, looked to his right at the bench Gran had used.

He blinked: The old man was there, sitting and talking quietly with Matt while both of them whittled on dead branches found in the empty lot. A handful of other kids came by and stopped, and soon Gran was grinning, his thin arms waving about, his eyes wide with laughter, Matt quietly proud he was the only one asked to join the old man on the bench.

Colin blinked again; the memory was gone.

Hands in his pockets, then he returned to the counter and was ready to read a magazine when Denise Adams walked in.

"Forget something?" he said brightly.

She examined the display of candies below the counter, looked at him without raising her head. "Cart thinks you're in love with me."

"He… I… my God, you can't be serious!"

He started to laugh, choked it off when he saw her hand move idly to the top button on her blouse; it was already undone, and she parted the material slightly while she picked up a chocolate bar and placed it by the register. "He's crazy," he said.

She cupped her palms around her cheeks and leaned her elbows on the counter. "I guess so."

"I know so, Denise," he said sternly.

Soft brunette curls drifted over her forehead, covered her hands, spiraled his gaze to the flat of her chest and the rise of her breasts. She's only eighteen, he reminded himself as he punched the register keys, had to correct himself twice before he got it right. The drawer snapped open and rapped his knuckles.

She stifled a laugh, and let one hand cover the chocolate.

"He thinks you look at me that way," she said so quietly he frowned until she repeated herself. "What way?"

She straightened and dug into her pocket, pulled out a dollar bill and held out her hand. He reached for it automatically, and stiffened when her fingers brushed across his skin.

"That way," she said. "You know. He thinks you want to paint me… " She shrugged slowly, "… without my clothes on."

He slid out the change, dropped a dime and fetched it with a curse, at the same time hunting for a way to get her out without screaming. When he stood she was eating the chocolate, nibbling at each section while she met his confusion with a smile.

"You corrected him, of course," he said, handing her the coins.

"Oh sure," she told him, looked pointedly at her chest to be sure he noticed she wasn't wearing a bra. "Oh sure."

"Good."

She didn't move; her smile made him uncomfortable as the candy disappeared, deliberately slowly. "I have work, Denise."

She licked a smudge of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. "Don't you?"

"Don't I what?"