"The FBI and the police need courtroom evidence and they ain't too likely just to shoot the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds on sight."

"And Vasquez will?"

"He's done it before," Roger said. "You remember that case two years ago, that Denver millionaire that hired Vasquez to find out who pushed poison heroin on his daughter after she died from shooting up pure uncut?"

"I think so ..."

Amy said, "You couldn't hardly forget it. Diego Vasquez seems to make d.a.m.n sure he's on the front page every time he wipes somebody out."

Roger went to the refrigerator. "I got time for another one, don't I? No, he got all the way to the top that time. Not just the street pusher but the one the cops don't never reach-the one that was financing it. Some real estate honcho up there."

Amy made a baby-faced smile. "Just like in the movies. Self-defense. Vasquez left that old boy in Denver dead on the living-room carpet with three forty-five Colt bullets inside of him."

"They dug a couple of thirty-eight slugs out of the ceiling plaster," Roger said. "And there was this thirty-eight automatic in the dead fella's hand. Fired twice. Everybody knows Vasquez just planted it that way after he killed that old boy. See, they never could have convicted the fella in court. That's the way Vasquez earns those five-figure fees."

Mathieson said, "Whatever happened to the days when there was a difference between the good guys and the bad guys? That's what tastes sour to me-how could a religious man like Sam Stedman hire a cold-blooded killer?"

"Didn't you ever see none of them Westerns where the sanctimonious town dads hire the gunslinger to clean up the town for them? Same f.u.c.kin' thing, ain't it?"

"Oh, h.e.l.l, Roger."

"You're an old-fashioned moralist, Fred."

Jan emerged from the dining room. "It's on the table. Move it or lose it."

3.

The Gilfillans left at midnight and there was the customary flurry of clearing up because Jan couldn't stand to face messes in the morning and the cleaning lady wasn't due again until Monday. Mathieson cleared the table while Jan loaded the dishwasher and then it was half past twelve and they slouched into the Pit for their nightcaps.

"Cointreau?"

"Yes, fine."

He poured himself a Remy Martin and carried the drinks to the couch. "I'm already a little squiffed. Ought to go on the wagon." He stood sipping the cognac. "You know I really should sign up with a health club. The old pot's growing. I need to get rid of fifteen pounds of this flab and get some decent exercise."

"You don't look so bad for an old-timer." She gave him a distracted glance.

"Well you get past forty, you need to start looking after yourself. I see myself five years from now gone to pot and gone to seed. I get nightmares about turning into a slob like Phil Adler."

"You won't. You'll always be long and lean. You're like Roger-lanky bones."

He slapped his paunch dubiously. Then he said, "He wants to buy me out."

"Roger does?"

"Phil Adler."

She carried her drink around the room, shifting little things, testing for dust with a fingertip. Mathieson sat down.

"He sprang it on me this afternoon. He wants to dissolve the partnership."

"Whatever for?"

"I think he's restless. He's been bitten by the big-shot bug. A lot of agents have become producers. Phil always hates to be left out."

She sat down across the room, the drink in both hands. "Are you going to sell out to him?"

"He only sprang it on me tonight. That's why I was late. I haven't had time to think about it."

"What was your first reaction?"

"You can't always go by that."

"Sometimes you can."

"We did that once. You remember what happened."

Her fingers crept under the neckline of her dress to pluck at something awry. "In the long run it worked out. You enjoy what you're doing now-more than you did when you were practicing law."

"We don't talk about that, remember?"

She uttered a short bark of unamused laughter. "I suppose Frank Pastor has microphones all over this house."

"It's better to stay in the habit of never talking about it."

"Doesn't it make you feel foolish? Melodramatic?"

"I like it here. I don't want us to take stupid risks."

His eyes followed the lines of her body as she stood up and walked aimlessly around the room. She was tennis-slim and her fine long hair was sunbleached. She seemed unaware that she was in a chronic state of irritation. "Ronny's coming home Friday. I hope you haven't forgotten."

"I haven't but I've got a lunch on with a client from Seattle. It's the only day he's here-I tried to change it but I couldn't. Can you meet the plane?"

"We both ought to be there."

"I'll see how early I can get away."

"It lands at half past two."

"I'll try."

"Please do." She took his gla.s.s and carried both empties out to the kitchen. When she reappeared she looked drowsy-the drinks were catching up. "Well take me to bed, then."

It took him by surprise but he walked her to the bedroom with his hand on the small of her back; he felt through the thin fabric the warmth of her skin. They undressed in silence, peeled back the covers neatly and got into bed. He reached up for the light switch; they made love in darkness and she did not kiss him.

4.

By the time he reached the airport Jan had already collected Ronny. Mathieson saw them coming along the concourse together, the boy maintaining a stiff distance from his mother: Ronny was eleven and painfully determined that no one mistake him for a momma's boy. He seemed to have grown at least another two inches since June.

Ronny held out his hand gravely and Mathieson shook it. "How you doin', son?"

"Fine, Dad. How're you?" Very grown up.

They walked toward the baggage-claim turntable. "You look d.a.m.n near bowlegged, boy. Didn't they ever get you off a horse in the past ten weeks?"

"Oh sure. We had all kinds of activities. Man, you wouldn't believe it, that's a bad place."

Jan said, "When 'bad' comes to mean the spectacularly good, I wonder what that tells us about ourselves?"

"Oh, Mom, sheesh."

The boy stood straight up and flashed his white California smile and Mathieson was proud of him. Ronny rattled on about his adventures while they waited for, and collected, his duffel bag. They walked out into the thick heat of the parking lot. The boy got in the narrow bench that pa.s.sed for a back seat in the Porsche and Mathieson gave him a critical look. "You're growing too long to scrunch up back there."

Ronny was alarmed. "You wouldn't sell it!"

"No. But I might have to hang a U-Haul trailer on behind for those mile-long legs of yours." Mathieson flipped the bucket seat up for Jan; but she was looking back toward the terminal and she'd gone bolt still.

He peered back that way. A man was standing on the curb by a taxi, looking at them. Then the man stooped to enter the taxi.

Jan said, "Isn't that ...?"

"Bradleigh."

"But I thought ..."

"If he wants to see us he knows where to find us."

Ronny leaned forward. "Who's that?"

"Just an old acquaintance." But sensations of alarm rubbed against Mathieson. He fitted the key into the ignition. Jan's eyes had gone wide. He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

5.

When they walked into the house the phone was ringing. He put down Ronny's duffel bag and went to the receiver.

"h.e.l.lo, Fred?"

"Yes." He recognized the voice. Jan was in the doorway watching him and he contrived an indifferent shrug to rea.s.sure her.

"You were right, that was me at the airport. I'm glad you didn't try to approach me. I'm in a phone booth right now-I've got to talk to you."

"Go ahead, talk."

"Not on the phone. You remember where we had that drink together the first time we came to Los Angeles?"

"Wasn't that at the--"

"Not on the phone. But you remember the place. Is it still there?"

"Far as I know." Mathieson watched Ronny lug the duffel bag toward the back of the house. Jan was locking the front door. It was something she almost never did in the daytime.

"Meet me there in half an hour."

"Look, it's an awkward time. My son just got home from summer camp and we ..."

"It's important, Fred. Important, s.h.i.t, it's vital. Make sure you're alone before you show up there. You get me?"

"I-Should I bring Jan and the boy along?"

"Does he know?"

"No."

"Then don't bring him. I won't have time to explain things to him. You'll have to do that yourself, later on."

"Why? There's no reason why he ever has to ..."

"There is now."

Mathieson gripped the phone hard. "Why?"

"Have you got neighbor friends Jan and Ronny could go visit for a few hours?"

"The Gilfillans. They've got a kid Ronny's age ..."

"Send your wife and the boy over there."

"But they just came home and ..."

"I don't want them home alone right now. You get me? Hang up and get a move on."