"It'll be an inconvenience," I admitted.

"They'll have to remember to shoot the bolts and arm the sensors when they lock up for the night. But that's trivial compared to the cost of insuring those chops. And I'm sure Watchdog will approve.

"I'll have more for you when I've studied the building" I meant the schools "and done some research. But bolts and some electronic security will cover you for now."

Unless a thief tried to get in through one of the apartment windows which seemed implausible to me. In Garner's heat, no one left windows open. And both apartments were occupied.

The developer's silence gave me the impression that he wasn't happy; "What kind of research?" he asked reluctantly.

"I want to talk to someone who handles security for a museum. He'll know more than I do about protecting valuables in a public building."

He may've been worried about what my suggestions would cost.

Apparently I was right.

"I believe," he pronounced after another pause, "my present insurance covers me until the chops are appraised." In other words, this was Watchdog's problem, not his at least for now.

"I'm sure I can get those bolts installed in a day or two. But motion sensors and pressure plates sound expensive. I don't want to spend that kind of money if I don't have to."

For instance, if the chops turned out to be counterfeit "That's your call, Mr. Lacone," I put in unsympathetically.

"You're paying me to give you advice, not to stand guard on the display personally. I'll protect them as well as I can. But I can't be there twenty-four hours a day."

"I understand, Brew, I understand." His bonhomie sounded a trifle forced.

"Of course I want your advice." A beat later, he asked, "How much would those sensors and plates run me?"

I shrugged at the windshield.

"You'll have to get an estimate from an electronic security professional. I don't have the expertise to install them, so I don't buy them myself."

I refrained from adding that it was silly to wait a couple of days before putting in bolts. I'd made my suggestions. If he chose not to take them seriously, that was his business.

And I also didn't mention that I'd already urged Deborah Messenger to arrange a preliminary appraisal. She could deal with him when she was ready. The bad news didn't have to come from me.

"Well, I'll give it some thought," Lacone announced as if that constituted reaching a decision. By degrees he recovered his smiling tone.

"In the meantime, Cassie will fill out a work order. We'll talk again soon."

Before he could finish dismissing me, I put in, "Just one or two more questions, Mr. Lacone."

"Of course," he sighed. He seemed to be losing his enthusiasm for me.

"Go ahead."

I offered the traffic and the street signs a hard grin.

"I had a small problem at Traditional Wing Chun this afternoon. Nothing serious just a misunderstanding. But it took me by surprise.

"Sifu Hong seemed to think that you hired me to protect the chops from him."

"He did?" Lacone asked.

"I'm astonished, Brew." He sounded astonished.

"Where would he get such an idea? It's preposterous. I have nothing but the greatest respect for him. Men like him and Nakahatchi sensei and Anson Sternway they give me faith in my dreams for Martial America."

Sincerity wasn't his strong point, that was plain. But he came close enough to satisfy me, at least for the time being. He had good reason to keep his schools happy, if he could.

"I'll tell him you said so. That should relieve his mind."

Then, deliberately abrupt hoping to catch him off-guard I asked, "How well did you know Bernie Appelwait?"

"Bernie ?" For a moment he seemed unable to place the name. Then he said, "Oh, that security guard. The one who got killed.

"I didn't know him at all. Just his name. He worked at the tournament. Didn't he hire you to help guard the chops? I think I may have shaken his hand once.

"Why do you ask?"

Instead of answering, I countered, "What about your assistant? Maybe she remembers him."

"I can't imagine why she would," he said dubiously. But he clicked his intercom anyway.

"Cassie, does the name "Bernie Ap-pelwait' mean anything to you?"

"Of course, Mr. Lacone. He was the Chief of Security at The Luxury Hotel and Convention Center." Maybe she really hadn't made a mistake in decades.

"At one time you considered hiring him to provide security for Martial America. But you didn't want to pay as much as he earned at The Luxury. Eventually you concluded that the buildings didn't require full-time security."

"Ah, yes," he conceded.

"Now I remember. Thank you, Cassie." Another distinct click silenced the intercom.

"Invaluable woman," he muttered.

"I don't know how she does it." He didn't sound pleased.

"But she's right, of course. We talked about hiring full-time security this was months ago. But security firms cost an arm and a leg. Someone suggested a hotel security guard might be less expensive. I may have mentioned Mr. Appelwait myself, poor man. But when I learned what The Luxury pays an employee with his seniority " The phone connection conveyed a shrug.

"Eventually we discarded the idea."

"Who is 'we," Mr. Lacone?"

"Let me think. Sammy Posten, naturally. Anson." He paused briefly.

"Oh, and Mike Piangi. He's the Vice President for Commercial Loans over at Garner National Bank and Trust."

In fact, they were exactly the people with whom he might've been expected to discuss security for Martial America. As my employer he was certainly forthcoming, I had to give him that.