BW turned the neon sign off and moments later, he came out of the rear door, locked it, and walked to his car.

Jake knew both their faces must have flashed with white as BW passed, his headlights raking across the front of Jake’s truck.

And then he was gone.

Violet was drunk and Jake’d had too much to drink himself, but he needed a friend, someone to feel close to for just this one night. Blindly he held a hand out and she took it. They made love. The leather seat was surprisingly commodious. The night was growing cold, and through the open window he could smell the orange blossoms from the orchard nearby. The scent was so dense he could scarcely breathe. He could hear crickets and frogs, and then the night became dead quiet except for the rustling of clothes and his harsh, rasping breath. He felt as though he’d had to run for miles just to get to her.

13

Downstairs, Chet Cramer introduced me to his son-in-law and then excused himself. Winston Smith was the same heavyset salesman I’d seen earlier, and I wondered if his sales pitch had been successful. Probably not, given his energy level, which seemed low if not depressed. We sat in his cubicle, my back to the glass partition that looked out onto the floor. Winston’s desk was arranged so he could keep an eye out for customers without appearing inattentive.

At close range, the word “corpulent” was more appropriate than “heavyset” in capturing his girth. He looked as though a simple walk to his car would leave him wheezing and short of breath. There was no ashtray in sight, but I smelled the cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes and breath. Under his chin, a second chin bulged, leaving his shirt collar so taut it might choke him to death if he bent to tie his shoes. He still had most of his hair, which he wore long and curly on top, brushed back in a style I hadn’t seen since the days when Elvis Presley got his start.

I’d scarcely sat down when his telephone rang. “Excuse me,” he said, and picked up. “This is Winston Smith.” And then, with caution, “What’s up?”

I had no way of knowing who was on the other end of the line, but he flicked a quick look in my direction and angled his body for privacy. “Hang on a sec.” He put the caller on hold. “Let me take care of this and I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing.”