“Not yet, but come on. It was the dumbest robbery ever. Zero planning. The guy was desperate for money to get high.”

“You should have your own TV show.”

“I’m not joking. As an upstanding member of the community, you need to help me.”

“Help you what?”

She stood up and started walking back to her car. Without turning she said, “I’ll be here at three to pick you up.”

“Why?”

“A stakeout.”

He tried to protest but she acted as if she couldn’t hear him. The door squealed open again, she got in, started the invalid vehicle that wheezed, and lurched away.

At three, good to her word, Mrs. Hultz was there at the curb, waiting for him, when he locked the front door of the building. Owen resigned himself to his fate. When he got in the passenger side, she handed him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“What’s this for?” he said.

“I thought you might be hungry after work.”

He really wanted to be on his way, cutting through the woods and across the old tracks, so he could get to the cemetery before dark, but at the same time he remembered what great friends Mrs. Hultz had been with his mother. He thought of all the times he played with her daughters, Ellie, Sue, and Lila, when they were young. She was there for his mom through her decline and final illness, even more so than Owen and his dad were. For that, he kept quiet and ate peanut butter and jelly.

“It’s going to be hard to be stealthy with this car,” he said to her.

“Are you kidding?” she said. “It runs like a charm.”

“Which do you think is in better shape? You or the Caddy?”

“What kind of question is that, Owen? Are you being disrespectful?” she asked, and laughed.

In three minutes, they were in the center of Westwend, a block of storefronts on either side of Cobb Street—a traffic light, a bar, two churches. She pulled into the grocery store parking lot, which was across from the gas station they were supposedly staking out. She kept the car running but put it in Park.

“Do you see the guy?” he asked. There were a couple of young men pumping gas for customers.

She shook her head. “It’s not one of them. I wonder if he’s already gone for the day. That would be a shame.”

“I can wait for a little while,” he said, “but I have to get back before it gets too late. I have an appointment at four.”

“Girlfriend?” she asked. “Who is it?”

“No, not a girlfriend.”

“A boyfriend?” she asked.

“No, I’m currently not engaged in a relationship of any kind.”

“Why not?”

“Too much bother.”

“You might as well join a monastery,” she said.

“There’s more to life than relationships.”