|
|
|
|
|
|
|
something. It's written all over your face." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Charlie's sometimes handsome face broke into a toothy grin. "Can't," he said emphatically. "But I can tell you that my plan is unfolding quite nicely." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Three times they went out and drove around. Three times they drove slowly by the entrance of the cemetery, and three times they returned to the motel to wait for another interval to pass before they tried again. Charlie's mood deteriorated as the day wore on. By late afternoon, Peggy was bored, and Charlie's mood had turned sullen and morose. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Peggy had tried repeatedly to find out what was on his mind. But the more she probed, the more determined he seemed to withdraw into himself. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
After the third such aborted venture he told her to wait at the motel while he went out on his own. He returned 30 minutes later, saying nothing about his brief journey. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Peggy, unsuccessful at prying any further information out of him, had retreated into her own world. She didn't even look up when he returned, contenting herself instead by casually thumbing through stacks of old magazines she had retrieved from the motel lobby. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It was late afternoon when Charlie con- |
|
|
|
|
|