Free Graves' Retreat by Ed Gorman Page A

like to see his brother die-”
        “Neely-”
        “It’ll be like that with T.Z. and you know it. He isn’t strong, T.Z. isn't. Not strong at all, kid, and you know it.”
        Les sighed. All he could think of to say was “Don’t follow me around anymore, all right?”
        Neely smiled. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost, kid.”
        “And don’t call me kid anymore, either.”
        Neely flicked his quirly into the gutter. “All right, Les. I don’t want to make you unhappy.” Then his eyes became slits in the sunlight and he said, “I’ll see you tonight, Les. Tonight.” Then he was gone.
        
***
        
        Before he entered the millinery store, Les had to go around the comer and get his composure back.
        People passing him on the street looked at him closely, as if he were sick or something.
        Finally, after a few minutes, he took several deep breaths, said something that resembled a prayer and then went back around the comer and into the millinery store.
        A bell tinkled as he entered the long, narrow shop and almost immediately a large woman in a yellow, bustled dress appeared and said, “Yes, sir, may I help you?”
        Les gulped and said, in a voice that sounded none too confident, “I’d like to see May Tolan.”
        And then, in the back of the store, stepping out from between parted curtains, he saw her.
        As always she looked lovely in a delicate and somewhat nervous way, her auburn hair pulled back in the sort of loose bun called a chignon. Her particular kind of prettiness reminded Les of a small kitten not quite able to cope with the world of giants surrounding it. She walked slowly toward him now, graceful in a simple tan frock, her grave brown eyes looking excited and afraid and even a bit angry all at once.
        The other woman, sensing the personal nature of the business, said, “I’ll be in the back, May dear.”
        May nodded.
        Les said, his voice shaking, the first stupid thing that came to mind. “Been a while, I guess.”
        Levelly she said, “Four months.”
        “I’ve been meaning to get hold of you.”
        “Could you help me with this?” an important-looking woman interrupted.
        “Of course,” May said.
        As he watched her, Les wondered if she ever resented it. She was so much more elegant than many of the women she waited on-yet so many of them treated her with the contempt of the wealthy.
        By the time she had finished with the first woman, several others had come into the shop, tinkling the bell, waiting impatiently to be served.
        Les had prepared so many words his head ached with the press of them all-but he could see now he would not have the opportunity he needed to say them to her. Not here.
        Les just stood there, bowler in hand, trying to look comfortable despite the scrutiny of half a dozen women who were obviously wondering what a man was doing here.
        The woman in yellow came back. She said, in a discreet voice, “You’re not here to see May on business?”
        “No, I guess I’m not.”
        “Well, May is very busy. This isn’t a good time.”
        “Yes. I-I guess I can see that.”
        "I can take a message for her if you’d like.”
        “No, no message. But-could you tell me when she has her lunch hour?”
        The woman frowned. “I was going to suggest that you stop back then-but I’m afraid it may be two o’clock at the rate things are going.”
        Two o’clock. Les would be back in his teller station. “All right. Why don’t you just tell her that I'll see her later, then.”
        “Fine. Sorry you didn’t get a chance to see her.” The woman, surprisingly, did not seem sorry.
        “Oh, that’s all right.”
        As he left, May was fitting a hat to a woman’s head. But he could see, around the angle of the