I dropped down into the hole. There was room enough for my feet, without standing on the coffin. I lifted the top and pretty nearly let it slam down. Catalina had not been feeding me moon-dust.
She was lying there, eyes shut. Her hands were crossed on her breast. Talk about complexion. Transparent olive, with a rosy flush.
"Snap out of it! I found you."
She didn't answer. There was a sleepy little smile that kept her lips from closing too tight. No mortician ever made a girl up that cleverly. Her nails were pink and long. There was not a trace of a scratch on her little feet, nor any dust. That was what made me lower the lid in a hurry. I climbed out and spent some minutes working the slab back into place. Talking to a girl about how cozy it must be in her coffin is one thing, and seeing her in it is another.
I didn't feel quite natural until I reported for duty. Mr. Hill eyed me as though something was missing. I said, "Watch me sell Judge Mottley a refill of Green Gold."
"You’d better, you chump," he grumbled. "I'm giving you another chance, maybe. I can't fire you today account me and the missus is going to a movie."
WHEN I closed the station and locked up the water and air hoses, so the public can’t steal them, I made the next move to reform Catalina’s diet. After taking on another bowl of chili, I had Mike put some in a carton to take along.
Catalina was sitting on the grave, waiting for me. "Everyone but you is frighten," she said, adoringly. "Now we will eat, no?"
She kissed me and made a job of it. I said, "Well, if you just got to, you got to, I guess. But it seems to me you could gradually get off that blood diet. I was down to Mike's and here’s some chili for you."
"Oh!" She wiggled free and gave me a reproachful eye. "You have eat the chili? With garlic?"
"What's the matter?" It got me down, the way she looked at me. "I always figured you early Californians were nuts about it. Anyway, I took some of those drunkard's delights. They kill your breath. The boss keeps them at the station, so the missus won’t know he’s tossed off too many noggins."
"But you don't understand. The vampire, she cannot smell the garlic, but it is poison. That is the danger. So I must call on selected people. Now you are" She shrugged. I wasn't fit to eat. "I mus' go back, over there."
She gestured in the direction of the place we’d been the other night.
I felt like a heel. But I tried to square myself. "Then suppose you go on the prowl again tonight, while I work on some plans. You need some nice clothes, and then people won’t say eek or awk and pass out when they see you."
That worked, as I knew it would. Not to be outdone, Catalina said she'd skip her dinner that night. She'd go on a hunger strike, and all for me.
We finally compromised on a raid on Prof Rodman's laboratory. Catalina had a way with locks, as I previously remarked. When we came back, she wanted me to sit around while she gossiped about the Ortegas, who were her neighbors in 1809, but I had to get some sleep and do some thinking. So she solemnly promised to lay off blood-drinking.
It was several days before I got rid of the garlic taint, and Catalina was decidedly peaked-looking. In the meanwhile, I'd drunk most of Prof Rodman's mixture. Likewise, I'd doped out a way to get Judge Mottley back in line.
The Palo Verde papers ballyhooed the startling recovery of several pernicious anemia victims. Under the prof’s daring
