Mary And The Giant

"Is there any loot in this stuff?" Nitz asked.

"None that I'm aware of."

"Can you make a living?"

"Maybe so," Lemming said. "I hope so."

Nitz was puzzled. "A guy like you-you have an education, you could work at a big research project. But you want to bum around with this. You enjoy it? It's worth that much to you in terms of personal satisfaction?"

"These are troubled times," Lemming murmured, and Mary A

"You never told us your name," Beth said, approaching her with a fresh drink.

Mary A

"Don't go," Beth said with condescension.

"I might as well. How long have you known Schilling?"

"Five or six years."

"What's he like?" She did want to find out, and Beth evidently knew.

"That depends," Beth said. "We had a lot of fun together. Years ago, when you were-" She measured the girl, until Mary A

"He must have money, to open that store."

"Oh, yes. Joe has money. Not a lot, but enough for what he wants."

"What does he want?"

"Joe is a very thoughtful man. He's also a lonely man. In spite of everything-" She smiled her fixed smile- "I have the highest regard for his taste and intellect. He's highly educated; he's charming in an old-fashioned way. He's a gentleman. . most of the time, at least. He knows a great deal about the music business."

"Then why isn't he ru

"Haven't you ever met a record collector?"

"No," Mary A

"Joe is where he always wanted to be: he's finally got a little store of his own where he has plenty of time to talk records, touch records, live records."

"He'll stay here, then?"

"Certainly. He's looked for this for years--a peaceful town, off the mainstream, where he can settle down. He's getting old; he wants to retire somewhere. He used to keep himself in the middle of things, ru

"He sounds wonderful," Mary A

"You don't sound convinced."

"I almost went to work for him."

"In many ways," Beth said, "it's hard for us to judge Joe Schilling. I once believed he was-well, ruthless."

"And he's not?"

"His needs are so strong. He hits you with such an impact."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't see why I should. Maybe some other time."

"Would it make a difference if I told you that something did happen in the store?"

"I know something happened. And I have a good idea what it was. Remember, you and I are the same age ... we have similar problems. Similar experiences."

"You're twenty-nine," Mary A

Pained, Beth said: "But for all intents and purposes we're in the same group."

Subjecting the woman to her calm, pitiless scrutiny, Mary A

"You poor kid," Beth said. She shook her head. "You just don't know what it's all about."

"I would, very much," Lemming was saying enthusiastically, "Here, you mean?"

"No," Nitz answered, "we'll have to go over there. It's been arranged by higher powers." He inspected his wristwatch. "He's probably home by now."

"I've heard a lot about him," Lemming said.

Rousing himself from his lethargy, Coombs protested, "The point escapes me. What are we going over there for?"

"Don't be a pill," Beth said.

"I don't want to see him. None of us want to see him. Just you."

"I'd sort of like to," Lemming said. "It might be a good thing professionally."

"It's almost two in the morning," Coombs said. "I'm ready for bed."

"Just for a while," Beth said, unrelenting. "Go get your camera-be a good boy. We told him we'd show up; he asked us to."

Coombs snickered. "He asked us?" He located his camera and tugged the strap on. "You mean, you asked him. The same old business-only this is the first one with a touch of the, tarbrush. What's the matter, are you tired of-"

"Shut up," Beth said, walking away. "We're going; we said we'd go. Stop acting like a neurotic."

"I'm warning you," Coombs said. "If we go over there, no monkey business. You behave."

"Christ," Beth said.

"I mean it."

"Sure, you mean it," Beth said. "You always mean it. Come on," she said to Nitz and Mary A

Resignedly, Mary A

"Why, how sweet," Beth said with a lingering smile. "How very sweet of you, dear."

10

Tweany's house, when they arrived, showed only a faint blue haze in the region of the top floor.

"He's in the kitchen," Mary A

There was no immediate response to Mary A

Tweany, still wearing his pink shirt and hand-painted tie, was sitting at the table eating a sardine sandwich and drinking a bottle of Rheingold beer. In front of him, spread out among the litter of food, was a smeared copy of Esquire, which he was reading.

"We came," Mary A

Nitz materialized in the doorway. "Get ready to be showed up," he a

"He's no good," Mary A

A placid superiority spread across the man's features. He shrugged and resumed his reading. "Help yourself. You know where the refrigerator is."

"I'm not hungry," Mary A

Beaming, Chad Lemming entered the kitchen carrying his guitar. "Mr. Tweany, I've wanted to meet you for a long time. I've heard a lot about your style."

Untouched by the young man's flattery, Tweany looked slowly up. "You're Chad Lemming?"

Self-consciously, Lemming fingered his guitar. "I do a sort of political monologue."

Tweany studied him. Lemming, still gri

"Go ahead," Tweany said.