Some Buried Caesar

"It's locked and I haven't got the key. Anyhow, if I sat down I might go to sleep and I mustn't because I'm guarding the bull. You'd better run along. I promised to be on the alert."

"Nonsense." She moved around the fender, brushing against me, and planted herself on the running board. "Come here and give me a cigarette. Clyde Osgood lost his head and made a fool of himself. How could anyone possibly do any- thing about that bull, with only the two gates, and one of them on the side towards the house and the other one right there? And you can't do any work on your career, here on a lonely road at night. Come and play with one of your toys."

I flashed the light on the gate, a hundred feet away, then switched it off and turned to join her on the running board. Stepping on an uneven spot, I got off balance and plumped down right against her. She jerked away.

"Don't sit so close," she said in an entirely new tone. "It

gives me the shivers."

I reached for cigarettes, grinning in the dark. "That had the element oЈ surprise," I said, getting out the matches, "but it's only fair to warn you that tactics bore me, and any you would be apt to know about would be too obvious. Besides, it was bad timing. The dangle-it-then-jerk-it-away is no good until after you're positive you've got the right lure, and you have by no means reached that point…"

I stopped because she was on her feet and moving off. I told the dark, where her form was dim, "The lunch is off. I doubt if you have anything new to contribute."

She came back, sat down again on the running board about a foot from me, and ran the tips of her fingers down my sleeve from shoulder to elbow. "Give me a cigarette, Escamillo." I lit for her and she inhaled. "Thanks. Let's get acquainted, shall we? Tell me something." "For instance."