Blackburn

'Well, I was shooting the shit with Heather last night,' Roy-Boy said. 'You know, at The Hoot, while you were in the can. She was telling me about this donut gag some frat pulled. Then you came out this morning with a shit-eating grin on your face, so I thought: donuts. A dozen glazed be okay?' He got out of the car and went into the shop.

Blackburn waited. There was no point in leaving. Roy-Boy knew where he lived.

Roy-Boy returned with a white cardboard box. 'I got a few extras,' he said, exhaling steam as he entered the car. 'Some jelly and some creme. Want one?'

'No.'

Roy-Boy opened the box and took out a filled donut. Chocolate creme oozed when he bit into it. He gestured at the Duster's ignition switch. 'Don't let me hold you back,' he said around a mouthful of pastry. 'We can talk while you drive.'

'I'd like to sit here awhile,' Blackburn said. 'If that's all right.'

'Sure,' Roy-Boy said. He reached up and pushed his sweatshirt hood from his head. 'I'm warm now. I just thought you might want to get home to your three fifty-seven. Why'd you take it out of your coat, anyway? Were you afraid Heather might feel it when she hugged you? Or did you shoot her and then leave it in her hand to make it look like suicide?'

'I wouldn't kill a woman.'

Roy-Boy's eyebrows rose. 'How come? Haven't you run across any who deserved it?'

Blackburn thought of Dolores. 'It's just a rule I have.'

Roy-Boy shook his head. 'Sexist,' he said.

'Maybe. But a man's got to have his rules.'

Roy-Boy stuffed the rest of the chocolate-creme donut into his mouth. 'Yeah,' he said, his voice muffled. 'If you say so.'

'Have you ever killed a woman?' Blackburn asked. His fist tightened around his keys. The windows had fogged. No one could see in.

'No,' Roy-Boy said, chewing. His eyes were steady, fixed on Blackburn's. 'In fact, I've never killed anyone. But I'm still a killer, because I'd do it if I had to. If it was me or him. Or her.'

'Why'd you think I killed Heather?'

'I didn't. I just thought it was a possibility. See, she's got a rep for screwing guys over. Narking on them, taking their money, leaving teeth marks, shit like that. I figured if she did it to you, you'd fix her.' Roy-Boy swallowed. 'But I was unaware of your rule.'

Blackburn didn't know whether to believe what Roy-Boy said about Heather. He sounded like he was telling the truth, but some people were good at that. And Heather didn't seem like the kind of woman who would screw over a lover. On the other hand, Dolores hadn't seemed like that kind either.

'Any other probing questions before you decide whether to poke holes in me with your car keys?' Roy-Boy asked.

'One,' Blackburn said. 'Why are you bugging me?'

Roy-Boy grinned. There were chocolate smears on his teeth. 'Am I bugging you? That's not my intention. I just think we can help each other, like we did Wednesday. I take half, you take half. See, if we hit places together we'll have less chance of trouble, because we'll both be watching for it. And we could carry the big stuff. You see the advantages?'

'Yes.'

Roy-Boy held out his hand. 'Then it's a partnership.'

'No. I can see the advantages, but I don't want them.'

Roy-Boy lowered his hand. 'Why not? Because you don't want to take 'things people use'? Man, people use everything. They just don't need all of it. If it'll make your moral code happy, then I promise we won't steal any insulin kits or dialysis machines. But a TV set ought to be fair game.'

'My moral code doesn't have anything to do with it,' Blackburn said. 'The problem is that I'm leaving town.' It wasn't really a lie. He hadn't been planning to leave, but he hadn't been planning to stay either.

Roy-Boy looked surprised. 'How come?'

'I never stay anywhere more than a few months.' That was most often because he had no choice, but Roy-Boy didn't need to know that. 'And I've been here since August, so another week and I'm gone. By Christmas for sure.'

'Where to?'

'Don't know yet.'

Roy-Boy looked away and sighed. 'Ain't that the way it goes. I find a partner with morals, and he's no sooner found than lost.' He opened the door and got out, leaving the box of donuts on the seat. 'No hard feelings, though, hey?'

Blackburn said nothing.

'You don't still want to kill me, do you?' Roy-Boy asked. His hand went into his sweatshirt pouch.

'No,' Blackburn said.

Roy-Boy stooped and peered in at him. 'You should grow your hair into a ponytail,' he said. 'All of the great statesman-philosophers had ponytails. Thomas Jefferson, for example, who philosophized about independence and freedom, and owned slaves. What a great world he created.' Roy-Boy straightened. 'Have a good trip, Musician, and enjoy the donuts. I'm gonna get some more for myself. See, I only have one testicle, so I have to eat twice as much as most men in order to manufacture enough jism for my needs.' He turned and walked toward the donut shop.

Blackburn leaned over to pull the door shut, then wiped the fog from the windshield and watched Roy-Boy enter the shop. He still had the feeling that he should kill Roy-Boy, but he couldn't think of a good reason why. All Roy-Boy had done was pester him. That might have been enough to warrant death, had it cost Blackburn anything, but it had cost him nothing but a little time. And now he had a free box of donuts, which pushed Roy-Boy's behavior even further into a gray area.

He started the Duster. No matter what he felt, he would not kill someone for behavior that fell into a gray area. He required a clear reason. If he started killing people without such reasons, he would be in violation of his own ethics. It was bad enough that he had become a burglar. A man had to have his rules.

On the way home, he stopped at a convenience store and bought a can of Heet, which he poured into the Duster's tank. Then he drove to his apartment and carried the box of donuts inside. Heather was in the bathroom with the door shut.

When she emerged, Blackburn was lying on the bed wearing nothing but a donut. Heather stayed two more hours, then said that she had to get home to study for finals. Blackburn was going to drive her, but the Duster refused to start. So Heather took a cab. After she had gone, Blackburn realized that he didn't have her phone number or address. He might be able to find her at The Hoot again, but he wasn't sure that he should. He liked her a lot, and he knew what that could lead to.

Blackburn was still in Houston the next Friday evening, watching a three-story apartment building in Bellaire. He had decided to leave the city by Christmas, but he needed traveling money. He had also decided that he had to stop breaking into houses and apartments, even if it meant working in fast food again. If he found some worthwhile items tonight, this would be his last day as a burglar.

He had not returned to The Hoot to look for Heather, and she had not come by his apartment to look for him. That was all right. They'd had twelve good hours together, which was twelve more than he'd had with most people, and he had the sense to leave well enough alone. It didn't feel good, but good feelings had nothing to do with good sense.

The sun had set, and lights in some of the apartments had come on. Blackburn,