Lucky Number Seven (III)

Of course, the game wouldn't let me give up that easily. As I looked over the Prollit proposal, the man from the ticket desk walked into the cafe and struck up a conversation with the proprietress.
"Wilma, I have some news." Outside of the context of the dingy train station the man looked like a tramp.
"Oh?" replied Wilma, who was also an older woman but seemed taller and somewhat more dignified.
"Someone's come on the train that I think you know. And she's got some interesting news."
"Emerson, what in heaven's name -"
"Not here, deary," said Emerson snappily. His "deary" was one of sarcasm and not affection. "Can you get someone to cover for you here?"
"Em, I don't know what's gotten into you but-" At this point the woman dropped her voice, and the two continued in hushed tones. I took the opportunity to look out the window. I noticed the Accord idling outside, my target snoring in the front seat. An idea entered my head. It was crazy, but this, I had decided, was my day for crazy. I got up, downed the rest of my mostly cold coffee, and walked out the door. I ambled over to the Honda's passenger side and poked the woman gently. She seemed fast asleep. I looked in the back seat. It was cluttered with things, including a dingy blanket. The door was unlocked.
'Hell,' I thought, 'You only live once.' I went for it. I climbed in the car, squeezed myself in on the floor of the car in front of the seat, and covered myself with the moth-eaten blanket. And waited. Before too long I heard the man sit back down in the driver's seat.
"Wilma's gonna -." A pause. "For Pete's sake, Imogene, wake up. Wilma's gonna meet us there after work. That just leaves Sal and Harvey."
"I suppose -" I hadn't heard the woman's voice before. It had a dreamy quality to it, like she wasn't all there. "I suppose Harvey will be at the shop, building something. And I don't know what Sal does with herself these days."
"Huh," said Emerson. "I keep forgetting how out of touch you are, Genie. Why do you live in the city anyway?"
"I... I like being close to things."
"Well, that don't make no sense. You're close to everything here."
"Well, to be honest, Em...."
Silence. The car stopped.
"Genie?"
"Sorry, I was lost in thought. To be honest - Can you keep this between us?"
Suddenly I felt a twinge of guilt over what I was doing. The car began rolling again.
"Of course, Genie. I don't have to tell you how good I am with secrets."
"That's just it. I'm not so good with them anymore. I... babble sometimes. And see things every now and then. I think I'm losing my marbles, Emerson."
Another silence.
"And you were afraid, if you stayed here, you'd tell the wrong person something important."
Silence. I peeked out to see that she was nodding. She seemed very sad. I was a horrible person.
"But what about Sal? Where do you suppose Sal is now?"
Emerson paused.
"We're just about here," he said. "You'll find out when we get inside."
The car was parking... and parked. This time both Emerson and Imogene got out of the car. When I could here nothing, I poked my head up. Hastily and quietly I got out of the car. We were parked in front of a large farmhouse. A glance toward the horizon told me we were just out of "town" if you could call it that. I noticed a lazy dog on the porch. If it noticed me and started barking it could be a great deal of trouble. I crept away from it, toward the side of the house, when I saw two children playing not far off. As I watched, they lost control of their ball. Desperate not to be seen by children running after a ball, I looked around for a place to hide. The house had basement windows - the kind that are accompanied by a little ditch to let light in. The ditch was just close enough. I dove in and hoped the window was closed.