That was the story of his life.

No time.

When he was ready, there wasn't time. And when there was time, he wasn't ready.

He was thirty-five, for Christsake, and he had to make a schedule so he could go to bed with his wife.

He looked at his watch again and thought about a squeeze play.

Nope, just wasn't time. That a.s.shole Larry would be by shortly, and if it was like yesterday, he'd be early. Perhaps now, with the psycho who. had killed Patrolman Trawler running loose, it was necessary for them to team up, but he'd be d.a.m.n glad when things returned to normal and he had a car to himself.

He picked his gun belt (Roxanne brought it in for him every morning when he was working, which was most of the time) off the back of a chair, strapped it on. It was a silly habit. He still had breakfast to eat, but after all these years in the Highway Patrol, it had become as natural a thing to do as zipping up his fly-in fact, more natural. Men and their guns, he thought. He sat down at the table and tried not to look at Roxanne's a.s.s, which was difficult, because as she cooked she wiggled all over the place.

He sighed.

She turned, had a plate of eggs and bacon in her hand. She set it down in front of him and they traded smiles. The toast popped up as if on command (her timing was incredible) and she brought it over to him on a fork. Next she brought b.u.t.ter and coffee, sat down next to him. There was no plate in front of her, only coffee. As usual, she'd eat after he left.

Sometimes he felt a bit guilty about Roxanne and her wifey role. The woman was college-educated and here she was slinging hash for him every morning like a waitress in a two-bit cafe. And all he had was a high school education and a s.h.i.t-a.s.s, no-thank-you job he'd had since he was in his early twenties. If he applied now he couldn't even get in.

You had to have college these days-sixty hours at least.

Truth was, he ought to be cooking for her and she ought to be going to work every morning in one of those cla.s.sy female business suits or one of those dresses she looked so fine in. As it was, she didn't even have the occasion to wear that sort of thing. For any reason.

Living in the country, with him gone most of the time, or home and just too tired to do anything, wasn't much of a life for an attractive woman. Worse, even, was the fact that his job had grown stale and tiresome, unchallenging.

And now he had Larry.

Crazy Larry. The only reason he was still in the Highway Patrol was the grace of G.o.d and friends in high authority-Christ! could a guy like that have friends?

Yesterday, the first time they'd actually worked together, they'd nearly come to blows.

The guy was worse than he had heard. Larry had asked him right off what his politics were, and then insulted him and called him a communist when he said Democrat.

Next he'd asked how he stood on "n.i.g.g.e.rs," "spicks," "wops" and other foreigners.

And when he explained that he found the terms offensive, he had to submit to fifteen minutes of "it's the n.i.g.g.e.r-loving b.a.s.t.a.r.ds like yourself that are bringing the country down around our ears."

If he had to put up with that today . . . Well, he just might shoot the sonofab.i.t.c.h, throw him in a ditch beside the road and tell G.o.d he'd died.

For heaven's sake, how could a guy like that walk around loose in society? Here they were combing the country for a nut, or nuts, who had killed a fellow officer, and he was riding with one of the biggest nuts in the country. "Breakfast okay, baby?"

"Ummm, fine," he said. "Was I frowning?"

"A little."

"Not the food, it's Larry."

"Only been with him one day so far and you're letting him give you an ulcer."

"He is an ulcer."

"Sure sounds like it."

"Just be glad to have it to myself again, my own car. I used to think I wanted a partner all the time, but if it's going to be Larry, I'd just as soon not. When I find out who put me with him, I'm going to strangle them-slowly."

"You think they're still out there, Ted? The ones who killed Jim?"

"They haven't caught them yet. I figure they're in Louisiana somewhere. This area has been combed pretty thoroughly."

"Lot of back roads."

"You're right about that. I suppose if they were "You're really going to quit?"

"Really."

"You're not just saying that because-"

"You're not responsible. I want to quit and have normal hours and live like a normal human being. Have some kids and not have you worry to death about my coming home to them all the time. Just lead a normal life. Soon as I can, I'm hanging it up."

"No idea what you'll do?"

"No."

"I could go back to work for a while, until you decide."

"We'll worry about that later. I've got to do some thinking in that area." She smiled. "You better eat your breakfast." He smiled back and ate.

He was brushing his teeth again when he heard Roxanne call from the kitchen, "Larry's here."

Softly, through toothpaste-foamed teeth, he said, "b.a.s.t.a.r.d,"

"Okay," he called to Roxanne. He rinsed his mouth, put his spare toothbrush in a very wrinkled paper bag, dropped his toothpaste in with it.

When he came out of the bathroom, Roxanne was holding his hat. He took it from her and put his arms around her, pulled her lips to his.

"That was nice," she said when their lips parted.

"Yes, it was." He pulled her to him again and they had an instant replay.

"My goodness, Teddy," she said when they moved apart. She reached down and pressed her hand to his erection. "I thought your gun had slid around." She began to ma.s.sage his p.e.n.i.s.

"That's one thing I don't need right now."

"Oh?" Her mouth went delightfully pouty.

"Let me rephrase that. I haven't the time."

"Better."

She kissed him again.

Outside a horn honked.

"a.s.shole," Ted said. "He's early, you know."

"When you get home we'll make up for lost time."

"Not sure when I'll be in."

"I know that. Whenever you're in we'll make it up."

He kissed her again.

The horn honked again.

"Look, it'll just take me a minute to go out there and strangle him, then I'll come back in."

She grinned.

"Gotta go." He reached out and patted her on the a.s.s as he went out of the bedroom. He stopped, turned. "One thing," he said, "when I quit this job, get into something else, I want you to do something with that degree of yours. I never wanted you to be a housewife and nothing else."

"We'll see."

"Bye, baby."

"Love you," she said, and he went out of there. She mouthed the words silently: "Be careful."

FOUR.

Ted went outside, putting on his hat. Larry had the car door open and was standing up leaning on it. He yelled, "Move it, Ted. Let's go."

"Just shut the f.u.c.k up, Larry." .

"Oh, it's going to be like that, huh? Okay, okay."

Larry folded himself inside the car, draped his arms over the steering wheel and looked straight ahead.

Ted walked around front, glanced at Larry through the gla.s.s. He looked like a little kid that had been grounded to his room and his toys locked up in the toy chest.

Ted shook his head. What world did this guy come from? It was like he had just dropped in from another planet and hadn't yet learned the social customs.

Ted opened the door, climbed in with a loud sigh. Without looking at him, Larry started the car, began easing out of the drive.

"d.a.m.n," Larry finally said, "you drive me crazy. You're the d.a.m.nedest person I've ever known."

"Me?" Ted said. "Me?" He liked it so much he said it a third time. "Me?"

"Think I'm talking to somebody in the back seat? Yeah, you."

"Christ, Larry, you're a f.u.c.king brainwipe, and you're saying I'm weird?"

"You got weird ideas. You act weird. You like n.i.g.g.e.rs and communist-"

"That's about enough, Larry."

"You and the n.i.g.g.e.rs, that's what's wrong with things."

Ted wondered if he should try pinching himself. Hopefully he'd wake up and Larry would be a dream.

"Larry, let me tell this to you one more-last time. That n.i.g.g.e.r stuff doesn't cut any ice with me. You believe what you want, but give me a break, huh?"

"Are you a f.u.c.king Catholic?"

"What?"

"I said are you a Catholic?"

"What's it matter? You trying to find something else to fight about?"

"Then you are a Catholic?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you didn't deny it."

"No, I'm not Catholic. I'm not even a Baptist. I'm not anything."

"A G.o.dd.a.m.ned atheist. I knew it, a G.o.dd.a.m.ned atheist."

"I didn't say that . . . What's it matter, huh?"

"It matters that I want to know if I'm driving around with a G.o.dd.a.m.ned atheist, that's what matters. I mean I'm laying my life on the line out here, and I want to know how my partner stands on things."

"Go to h.e.l.l, Larry."

"Hey, that's your place, buddy. You're the atheist."

"I'm not an atheist, Larry. I don't have any interest in organized religion, that's all.

I don't believe in having to go to church, that sort of thing."