Devil’s Waltz. By: Jonathan Kellerman

was studying them. I got behind the wheel and she put them back in her

folio.

“You’re d”‘nched,” she said, wiping sweat from my face. Are you

okay?”

“Hanging in. The heat.” I started the car.

“No progress?”

“Some. It’s going to be a marathon.”

“You’ll make it to the finish.”

“Thanks,” I said. Hanging a three-point turn, I drove away.

Haley down the block I pulled over to the curb, jammed the transmission

into PARK, leaned across the seat, and kissed her hard.

She flung both arms around me and we held each other for a long TIME

A loud “ahem” broke us apart.

We looked up and saw an old man watering his lawn with a dribbling

hose. Watering and scowling and mumbling. He wore a wide-brimmed

straw hat with a ragged crown, shorts, rubber sandaIs.

Bare-chested-his teats sagged like those of a woman wasted by famine.

His upper arms were stringy and sunburnt. The hat shadowed a pouchy,

sour face but couldn’t conceal his disgust.

Robin smiled at him.

He shook his head and the water from his hose arced and sprayed the

sidewalk.

One of his hands gave a dismissive wave.

Robin stuck her head out the window and said, “Whatsamatter, don’t you

approve of true love?”

“Goddam kids,” he said, turning his back on us.

We drove away without thanking him.

the end.

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