"For Pete's sake, keep your voice down Ellen!" he whispered hoarsely, his eyes casting about the room with suspicion. "I told you, not here!" People with whole lot more experience in what you're trying to do have been hurt. Believe me I know!" "Come on Earl. Aren't you being just a tiny bit paranoid here?" I asked and immediately regretted saying it, when I remembered his history. "You're just like everybody else around here after all aren't you Ellen?" he sneered, "crazy old Earl, that's what they call me! Why should I have thought that you would be any different? I knew I was making a mistake coming here. I'm sorry I said anything! Look, I gotta get going. Don't worry about me. I'll leave you alone! Maybe one day soon you'll wish you'd listen to me!" He pushed back his chair and stood to leave. I reached out and took hold of his sleeve. He looked down at my hand and then at my face. A look of betrayal was plainly etched on his weathered face. "Earl, I didn't mean to insult you. Please sit down for just a few more minutes. I shouldn't have said what I did. Please don't be angry!" I said, afraid I had completely alienated the only person in town who knew anything about what was fast becoming my obsession. He searched my face to be sure I was being sincere and grudgingly returned to his seat. He refused to look at me at first, concentrating instead on downing the last of his beer and then lighting another Camel with his stainless steel Zippo lighter. "Earl, I'm sorry. I should be thanking you for caring about me. Come to think of it, I should be flattered that you felt you had to protect me. I think that was a very sweet thing for you to do." "Oh all right!" he growled, blowing a plume of smoke from his nose, "I ain't no hero. Don't be getting mushy on me. Maybe I'm just sick and tired of all the damn lies and secrets in this town and wanted to do something good for a change. I should have just minded my own business!" "Earl, you obviously know more than you are willing to tell me tonight. You may be right, maybe I should have been a little more discreet. I've been away for over 30 years and you've been right here in the middle of things. What do you say we get together in a couple of days and talk about it some more, somewhere private where we don't have to worry about being overheard? You could meet me at my hotel. I'll even chip in for a six-pack, what do you say?" He didn't respond at first, but sat twirling the empty beer bottle between his hands as if trying to make up his mind. He took so long to speak that I thought that I had lost him, but he finally looked at me. There was a single tear in the corner of his eye. "Okay, I'll do it. Just remember, Ellen, it's your funeral," he said softly, "and probably mine."