it was. Fine stood up from her seat like the perfect hostess, like all this life-and-death stuff was getting in the way of her socializing.
“Does anyone want coffee?” she asked quietly.
“Tea?” I asked and Max shot me a look like I’d asked for a handgun.
“I really think we should get going,” Max said. “They have to be looking for us.”
“Oh?” Fine said, still smiling. “Are they lurking outside, waiting to attack?” She shivered theatrically.
“How can I tell?” Max said, sinking into a chair opposite her. “There’s so much static around here—you don’t notice it?” Fine just stared at him. “I’m not comfortable when I can’t tell what’s going on around me.”
“Well, I’m not comfortable running away without a good reason,” Fine answered, speaking slowly, biting each word off as if they came a la carte . “We don’t know why Dave was killed, we have no real reason—other than your unspecified fears—to feel endangered ourselves. You say he left you a list, you think you know what it means, this one here—” she waved her hand at me “—says he saw Dave die and the house blow up. Even if I grant all these things on faith, why should we go anywhere?”
“I have no facts to offer,” Max said, “but I sensed that these agents were low-level, low-status. They wanted the list but only to hand it over to someone well above their pay grade.”
“You sensed ,” Fine repeated, the words a hiss. “In what way? Automatic writing? Ideagrams? Narrating out of a trance? Which process do you use?”
“I—I have my own approach,” Max said.
“I’m sure you do,” Fine said and turned, all at once, to me. “And you? You are?”
“I’m Greg—”
“Greg lived with Dave,” Max explained. “Dave had a group of veterans living with him, making the transition back to civilian life. Dave helped them …adjust.”
“That sounds like Dave,” Fine demeaned politely. Her eyes were on me. Her eyes glinted at me as though we shared a secret, a juicy one. She was an attractive, confident, well-organized person, someone who could help me, who could help us all get ourselves together. If she was in charge, we wouldn’t be running all over the map. “You saw him dead too, then,” she said.
“I saw him first.”
To Max: “You weren’t there?”
“I arrived late.”
Fine’s eyes were slitted, like Tauber’s had been. “How late?”
“Five, maybe seven minutes—that’s right, isn’t it?” he asked me.
“I think so,” I said, my cheeks reddening. “I…lost track of time.”
“You were under stress—that happens,” Miriam Fine said, smiling at me. She had a cup of tea for me, the way I liked it. I didn’t remember her leaving the room to get it but there it was. She was considerate that way, I could tell. She went out of her way for people. At least, she had for me—neither Max nor Tauber had anything to drink. She turned back to Max. “If you say you arrived late, does that mean you were on your way when it happened?”
Now there was something in the air—Max looked uncomfortable. “Dave warned me they were coming. When I first sensed them, I didn’t realize they were coming after him.”
Fine nodded. “You thought they were after you ,” she cooed. “Because there’s always someone coming after you, isn’t there?” With each word, he shrank and she blossomed. His eyes seemed to shrivel into his head, the hollows under his thick eyebrows darker and deeper by the second.
“It’s not like that,” he said but we all knew it was. He’d already told us it was. Fine might be a bit of a tight-ass but she was the first together person I’d encountered since Dave got shot. She was smart and clean, she lived in a nice house in a respectable neighborhood, she had a regular life and a regular job. She had pictures on the wall and a desk with a big computer monitor and computerized paystubs from a real corporation, not a handwritten chickenscratch
“Does anyone want coffee?” she asked quietly.
“Tea?” I asked and Max shot me a look like I’d asked for a handgun.
“I really think we should get going,” Max said. “They have to be looking for us.”
“Oh?” Fine said, still smiling. “Are they lurking outside, waiting to attack?” She shivered theatrically.
“How can I tell?” Max said, sinking into a chair opposite her. “There’s so much static around here—you don’t notice it?” Fine just stared at him. “I’m not comfortable when I can’t tell what’s going on around me.”
“Well, I’m not comfortable running away without a good reason,” Fine answered, speaking slowly, biting each word off as if they came a la carte . “We don’t know why Dave was killed, we have no real reason—other than your unspecified fears—to feel endangered ourselves. You say he left you a list, you think you know what it means, this one here—” she waved her hand at me “—says he saw Dave die and the house blow up. Even if I grant all these things on faith, why should we go anywhere?”
“I have no facts to offer,” Max said, “but I sensed that these agents were low-level, low-status. They wanted the list but only to hand it over to someone well above their pay grade.”
“You sensed ,” Fine repeated, the words a hiss. “In what way? Automatic writing? Ideagrams? Narrating out of a trance? Which process do you use?”
“I—I have my own approach,” Max said.
“I’m sure you do,” Fine said and turned, all at once, to me. “And you? You are?”
“I’m Greg—”
“Greg lived with Dave,” Max explained. “Dave had a group of veterans living with him, making the transition back to civilian life. Dave helped them …adjust.”
“That sounds like Dave,” Fine demeaned politely. Her eyes were on me. Her eyes glinted at me as though we shared a secret, a juicy one. She was an attractive, confident, well-organized person, someone who could help me, who could help us all get ourselves together. If she was in charge, we wouldn’t be running all over the map. “You saw him dead too, then,” she said.
“I saw him first.”
To Max: “You weren’t there?”
“I arrived late.”
Fine’s eyes were slitted, like Tauber’s had been. “How late?”
“Five, maybe seven minutes—that’s right, isn’t it?” he asked me.
“I think so,” I said, my cheeks reddening. “I…lost track of time.”
“You were under stress—that happens,” Miriam Fine said, smiling at me. She had a cup of tea for me, the way I liked it. I didn’t remember her leaving the room to get it but there it was. She was considerate that way, I could tell. She went out of her way for people. At least, she had for me—neither Max nor Tauber had anything to drink. She turned back to Max. “If you say you arrived late, does that mean you were on your way when it happened?”
Now there was something in the air—Max looked uncomfortable. “Dave warned me they were coming. When I first sensed them, I didn’t realize they were coming after him.”
Fine nodded. “You thought they were after you ,” she cooed. “Because there’s always someone coming after you, isn’t there?” With each word, he shrank and she blossomed. His eyes seemed to shrivel into his head, the hollows under his thick eyebrows darker and deeper by the second.
“It’s not like that,” he said but we all knew it was. He’d already told us it was. Fine might be a bit of a tight-ass but she was the first together person I’d encountered since Dave got shot. She was smart and clean, she lived in a nice house in a respectable neighborhood, she had a regular life and a regular job. She had pictures on the wall and a desk with a big computer monitor and computerized paystubs from a real corporation, not a handwritten chickenscratch
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