Dreamcatcher(5)

Pete shrugs. 'Maybe. I'm good at finding things. Always have been.'

'Do you know something 1 don't?' she asks.

No bounce, no play, he thinks. I know that much, ma'am.

'Nope,' he says. 'Not yet.'

They walk into the pharmacy, and the bell over the door jingles. The girl behind the counter looks up from her magazine. At three-twenty on a rainy late September afternoon, the pharmacy is deserted except for the three of them down here and Mr Diller up behind the prescription counter.

'Hi, Pete,' the counter-girl says.

'Yo, Cathy, how's it going?'

'Oh, you know  -  slow.' She looks at the brunette. 'I'm sorry, ma'am, I checked around again, but I didn't find them.'

'That's all right,' Trish says with a wan smile. 'This gentleman has agreed to give me a ride to my appointment.'

'Well,' Cathy says, 'Pete's okay, but I don't think I'd go so far as to call him a gentleman.'

'You want to watch what you say, darlin,' Pete tells her with a grin. 'There's a Rexall just down 302 in Naples.' Then he glances up at the clock. Time has sped up for him, too. That's okay, that makes a nice change.

Pete looks back at Trish. 'You came here first. For the aspirin.'

'That's right. I got a bottle of Anacin. Then I had some time to kill, so - '

'I know, you got a coffee next door at Christie's, then went across to Renny's.'

'Yes.

'You didn't take your aspirin with hot coffee, did you?'

'No, I had a bottle of Poland water in my car.' She points out the window at a green Taurus. 'I took them with some of that. But I checked the seat, too, Mr . . . Pete. I also checked the ignition.' She gives him an impatient look which says, I know what you're thinking: daffy woman.

'Just one more question,' he says. 'If I find your car-keys, would you go out to dinner with me? I could meet you at The West Wharf. It's on the road between here and - '

'I know The West Wharf,' she says, looking amused in spite of her distress. At the counter, Cathy isn't even pretending to read her magazine. This is better than Redbook, by far. 'How do you know I'm not married, or something?'

'No wedding ring,' he replies promptly, although he hasn't even looked at her hands yet, not closely, anyway. 'Besides, I was just talking about fried clams, cole slaw, and strawberry shortcake, not a lifetime commitment.'

She looks at the clock. 'Pete . . . Mr Moore . . . I'm afraid that at this minute I have absolutely no interest in flirting. If you want to give me a ride, I would be very happy to have dinner with you. But - '

'That's good enough for me,' he says. 'But you'll be driving your own car, I think, so I'll meet you. Would five-thirty be okay?'

'Yes, fine, but - '

'Okay.' Pete feels happy. That's good; happy is good. A lot of days these last couple of years he hasn't felt within a holler of happy, and he doesn't know why. Too many late and soggy nights cruising the bars along 302 between here and North Conway? Okay, but is that all? Maybe not, but this isn't the time to think about it. The lady has an appointment to keep. If she keeps it and sells the house, who knows how lucky Pete Moore might get? And even if he doesn't get lucky, he's going to be able to help her. He feels it.

'I'm going to do something a little weird now,' he says, 'but don't let it worry you, okay? It's just a little trick, like put?ting your finger under your nose to stop a sneeze or thump?ing your forehead when you're trying to remember someone's name. Okay?'

'Sure, I guess,' she says, totally mystified.

Pete closes his eyes, raises one loosely fisted hand in front of his face, then pops up his index finger. He begins to tick it back and forth in front of him.

Trish looks at Cathy, the counter-girl. Cathy shrugs as if to say Who knows?

'Mr Moore?' Trish sounds uneasy now. 'Mr Moore, maybe I just ought to - '

Pete opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and drops his hand. He looks past her, to the door.

'Okay,' he says. 'So you came in His eyes move as if watching her come in. 'And you went to the counter . . .' His eyes go there. 'You asked, probably, "Which aisle's the aspirin in?" Something like that.'

'Yes, I - '

'Only you got something, too.' He can see it on the candy-rack, a bright yellow mark something like a handprint. 'Snickers bar?'

'Mounds.' Her brown eyes are wide. 'How did you know that?'

'You got the candy, then you went up to get the aspirin. He's looking up Aisle 2 now. 'After that you paid and went out . . . let's go outside a minute. Seeya, Cathy.'

Cathy only nods, looking at him with wide eyes.

Pete walks outside, ignoring the tinkle of the bell, ignoring the rain, which now really is rain. The yellow is on the sidewalk, but fading. The rain's washing it away. Still, he can see it and it Pleases him to see it. That feeling of click. Sweet. It's the line. It has been a long time since he's seen it so clearly.

'Back to your car,' he says, talking to himself now. 'Back to take a couple of your aspirin with your water . . .'

He crosses the sidewalk, slowly, to the Taurus. The woman walks behind him, eyes more worried than ever now. Almost frightened.