y?”
He looks at his watch.
“Fortunately, I have an appointment on planet Earth,” he says. “Enjoy your pastry. You look almost like a human being with that thing. That’s how I want to remember you. Almost human, but not quite, and more dangerous because of your proximity to normalcy.”
Wells slides out of the booth.
I look at my fritter.
“‘Proximity to normalcy’ is a nice turn of phrase. You ought to do a needlepoint, frame it, and shove it straight up your ass. Keep it there with the rest of your wisdom.”
“Good night, James.”
“Good night, Larson.”
As he’s walking out, Janet comes over with coffee and a pile of donuts.
“Who was your friend?” she says, sitting down. “He didn’t look happy.”
“He isn’t a friend. You know those people you never want to see again, but you seem to run into them everywhere? That’s him.”
“Oh good. He looks like a cop. I was afraid for a minute you might be one too.”
“I’m about as far as you can get from a cop and still be a biped.”
Satisfied, Janet takes a bite of an eclair.
“How’s the coffee?” she says, covering her half-full mouth with her hand.
“Good. How’s your donut?”
She swallows.
“Good. Now it’s time for you to pay for your dinner.”
“That doesn’t make me at all nervous.”
“It’s just a question. Questions, actually. Several of them.”
“Shoot.”
She says, “Last night you looked like someone worked you over with a tire iron and you walk in here tonight like nothing happened.”
“I don’t think that’s technically a question.”
“It will be later, but I have another one first.”
“Let me have it.”
“When I helped you up, you disappeared. You didn’t run away or hide in a crowd. You disappeared. How did you do that?”
Shit.
“You saw that?”
“I sure did.”
I take a bite of fritter, stalling for time.