Down Don't Bother Me (9780062362209) by Jason Miller

him out of this, but he wouldn’t listen. He never listens. And here you are, without the faintest idea what you’re doing or where you’re going or what to do, and none of the experience even to know that you don’t know it. You don’t, do you?”
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œI’m worried that you’re a danger to my husband, Slim. I’m worried that you’re going to get in the way of the police investigation. If that happens, you could get Guy killed.”
    They were good points, all of them. I sipped some of my coffee and set the mug on the table. The coffee was hot and strong but didn’t taste like poison. Maybe Susan liked me after all. Maybe we were dating now.
    I said, “Fair enough. Truth is, I don’t want to be here. Just between you, me, and Susan—who I assume has her ear pressed to the door right now—I don’t think much of your old man’s scheme, either. Your appraisal of my skillsis sound, and I won’t argue with it. On the other hand, I don’t plan on getting in anyone’s way, especially the police. I’ve got no reason to think they’re doing anything but a bang-up job, and as far as I’m concerned they can keep doing it. Frankly, I just want to be able to report something to Mr. Luster and get my pension.”
    She gave me a look.
    â€œYour . . . pension?”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œThat’s what he promised you?”
    â€œAll wrapped up like a newborn baby and stashed away somewhere warm and safe.”
    â€œWell, isn’t that a little . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    She blew out a breath and said, “I don’t know. Desperate?”
    â€œOuch.”
    For the first time, she smiled a little. She seemed embarrassed.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “I really don’t know how to act right now.”
    â€œNo harm,” I said. “As for desperation, I guess it depends what your aspirations are. Mine’s college for my daughter and an occasional haircut for myself.”
    Temple sighed quietly, then stood and paced behind the sofa. “Fine,” she said finally. “Let’s get it over with then. Ask your questions.”
    â€œThanks,” I said sincerely. “Let’s start with what you think might have happened.”
    â€œI think Dwayne was murdered. I think my husband’s disappeared. More than that . . .”
    â€œI’ll need to know about your marriage. What it’s been like. Whether you’ve been happy with Guy.”
    She laughed at that. Kind of bitterly, too. But even her bitterness was like art. Her head went back and her ponytail poured over her shoulder like a vein of molten copper and curled up at the full swell of her breast. She was good-looking, all right. Peggy would turn me inside out with a butter knife to hear me say it, but there was something otherworldly about Temple Beckett, something that had to do with more than money.
    I said, “Mrs. Beckett . . .”
    â€œTemple,” she said, interrupting. “I want to be called Temple. And none of this is about my husband and our marriage or our happiness.”
    â€œWell, wait a minute now. Why aren’t you happy with Guy?”
    â€œI didn’t say I wasn’t.”
    â€œYou didn’t, but your face did.”
    â€œMy face?”
    â€œYour expression. Your mouth, mostly. The way the corners flex when you talk about him. Not a happy look, Mrs. Beckett.”
    â€œ Temple .”
    â€œThere’s that, too.”
    She gave me a Susan look. Not gladsome. She came back around the couch and flopped down, as though exhausted.
    â€œYou’re married?”
    â€œNot anymore.”
    â€œBut you were.”
    â€œA long time ago.”
    She said, “Then you know that no marriage is perfect.”But I got the sense that hers was less perfect even than that. “And I’m telling you, you’re on the wrong path. You’re