backfromthehighwayatthebottomofsepulvedacanyonweretwosquareyellowgateposts.afive-barredgatehungopenfromoneofthem.overtheentrancewasasignhungonwire:privateroad.noadmittance.theairwaswarmandquietandfullofthetomcatsmellofeucalyptustrees.

iturnedinandfollowedagraveledroadaroundtheshoulderofahill,upagentleslope,overaridgeanddowntheothersideintoashallowvalley.itwashotinthevalley,tenorfifteendegreeshotterthanonthehighway.icouldseenowthatthegraveledroadendedinalooparoundsomegrassedgedwithstonesthathadbeenlimewashed.offtomylefttherewasanemptyswimmingpool,andnothingeverlooksemptierthananemptyswimmingpool.aroundthreesidesofittherewaswhatremainedofalawndottedwithredwoodloungingchairswithbadlyfadedpadsonthem.thepadshadbeenofmanycolors,blue,green,yellow,orange,rustred.theiredgebindingshadcomelooseinspots,thebuttonshadpopped,andthepadswerebloatedwherethishadhappened.onthefourthsidetherewasthehighwirefenceofatenniscourt.thepingboardovertheemptypoollookedknee-sprungandtired.itsmattingcoveringhunginshredsanditsmetalfittingswereflakedwithrust.

icametotheturningloopandstoppedinfrontofaredwoodbuildingwithashakeroofandawidefrontporch.theentrancehaddoublescreendoors.largeblackfliesdozedonthescreens.pathsledoffamongtheevergreenandalwaysdustycaliforniaoaksandamongtheoakstherewererusticcabinsscatteredlooselyoverthesideofthehill,somealmostcompletelyhidden.thoseicouldseehadthatdesolateout-of-seasonlook.theirdoorswereshut,theirwindowswereblankedbydrawncurtainsofmonk’sclothorsomethingonthatorder.youcouldalmostfeelthethickdustontheirsills.

iswitchedofftheignitionandsattherewithmyhandsonthewheellistening.therewasnosound.theplaceseemedtobeasdeadaspharaoh,exceptthatthedoorsbehindthedoublescreenswereopenandsomethingmovedinthedimnessoftheroombeyond.theniheardalightaccuratewhistlingandaman’sfigureshowedagainstthescreen,pusheditopenandstrolleddownthesteps.hewassomethingtosee.

heworeaflatblackgauchohatwiththewovenstrapunderhischin.heworeawhitesilkshirt,spotlesslyclean,openatthethroat,withtightwristletsandloosepuffedsleevesabove.aroundhisneckablackfringedscarfwasknottedunevenlysothatoneendwasshortandtheotherdroppedalmosttohiswaist.heworeawideblacksashandblackpants,skin-tightatthehips,coalblack,andstitchedwithgoldthreaddownthesidetowheretheywereslashedandbelledoutlooselywithgoldbuttonsalongbothsidesoftheslash.onhisfeetheworepatent-leatherdancingpumps.

hestoppedatthefootofthestepsandlookedatme,stillwhistling.hewasaslitheasawhip.hehadthelargestandemptiestsmoke-coloredeyesihadeverseen,underlongsilkylashes.hisfeaturesweredelicateandperfectwithoutbeingweak.hisnosewasstraightandalmostbutnotquitethin,hismouthwasahandsomepout,therewasadimpleinhischin,andhissmallearsnestledgracefullyagainsthishead.hisskinhadthatheavypallorwhichthesunnevertouches.

hestruckanattitudewithhislefthandonahipandhisrightmadeagracefulcurveintheair.

“greetings,”hesaid.“lovelyday,isn’tit?”

“prettyhotinhereforme.”

“ilikeithot.”thestatementwasflatandfinalandclosedthediscussion.whatilikedwasbeneathhisnotice.hesatdownonastep,producedalongfilefromsomewhere,andbegantofilehisfingernails.“youfromthebank?”heaskedwithoutlookingup.

“i’mlookingfordr.verringer.”

hestoppedworkingwiththefileandlookedoffintothewarmdistance.“who’she?”heaskedwithnopossibleinterest.

“heownstheplace.laconicashell,aren’tyou?asifyoudidn’tknow.”

hewentbacktohisfileandfingernails.“yougottoldwrong,sweetie.thebankownstheplace.theydoneforecloseditorit’sinescroworsomething.iforgetthedetails.”

helookedupatmewiththeexpressionofamantowhomdetailsmeannothing.igotoutoftheoldsandleanedagainstthehotdoor,thenimovedawayfromthattowheretherewassomeair.

“whichbankwouldthatbe?”

“youdon’tknow,youdon’tcomefromthere.youdon’tcomefromthere,youdon’thaveanybusinesshere.hitthetrail,sweetie.buzzoffbutfast,”

“ihavetofinddr.verringer.”

“thejoint’snotoperating,sweetie.likeitsaysonthesign,thisisaprivateroad.somegopherforgottolockthegate.”

“youthecaretaker?”

“sortof.don’taskanymorequestions,sweetie.mytemper’snotreliable.”

“whatdoyoudowhenyougetmad—danceatangowithagroundsquirrel?”

hestoodupsuddenlyandgracefully.hesmiledaminute,anemptysmile.“lookslikeigottotossyoubackinyourlittleoldconvertible,”hesaid.

“later.wherewouldifinddr.verringeraboutnow?”

hepocketedhisfileinhisshirtandsomethingelsetookitsplaceinhisrighthand.abriefmotionandhehadafistwithshiningbrassknucklesonit.theskinoverhischeekboneswastighterandtherewasaflamedeepinhislargesmokyeyes.

hestrolledtowardsme.isteppedbacktogetmoreroom.hewentonwhistlingbutthewhistlewashighandshrill.

“wedon’thavetofight,”itoldhim.“wedon’thaveanythingtofightabout.andyoumightsplitthoselovelybritches.”

hewasasquickasaflash.hecameatmewithasmoothleapandhislefthandsnakedoutveryfast.iexpectedajabandmovedmyheadwellenoughbutwhathewantedwasmyrightwristandhegotit.hehadagriptoo.hejerkedmeoffbalanceandthehandwiththebrassknuckscamearoundinaloopingbolopunch.acrackonthebackoftheheadwiththoseandiwouldbeasickman.ifipulledhewouldcatchmeonthesideofthefaceorontheupperarmbelowthepointoftheshoulder.itwouldhavebeenadeadarmoradeadface,whicheverithappenedtobe.inaspotlikethatthereisonlyonethingtodo.

iwentwiththepull.inpassingiblockedhisleftfootfrombehind,grabbedhisshirtandheardittear.somethinghitmeonthebackoftheneck,butitwasn’tthemetal.ispuntotheleftandhewentoversidewaysandlandedcatlikeandwasonhisfeetagainbeforeihadanykindofbalance.hewasgrinningnow.hewasdelightedwitheverything.helovedhiswork.hecameformefast.

astrongbeefyvoiceyelledfromsomewhere:“earl!stopthatatonce!atonce,doyouhearme?”

thegauchoboystopped.therewasasortofsickgrinonhisface.hemadeaquickmotionandthebrassknucksdisappearedintothewidesasharoundthetopofhispants.

iturnedandlookedatasolidchunkofmaninahawaiianshirthurryingtowardsusdownoneofthepathswavinghisarms.hecameupbreathingalittlefast.

“areyoucrazy,earl?”

“don’teversaythat,doc,”earlsaidsoftly.thenhesmiled,turnedaway,andwenttositonthestepsofthehouse.hetookofftheflat-crownedhat,producedacomb,andbegantocombhisthickdarkhairwithanabsentexpression.inasecondortwohestartedtowhistlesoftly.

theheavymanintheloudshirtstoodandlookedatme.istoodandlookedathim.

“what’sgoingonhere?”hegrowled.“whoareyou,sir?”

“name’smarlowe.iwasaskingfordr.verringer.theladyoucallearlwantedtoplaygames.ifigureit’stoohot.”

“iamdr.verringer,”hesaidwithdignity.heturnedhishead.“gointhehouse,earl.”

earlstoodupslowly.hegavedr.verringerathoughtfulstudyinglook,hislargesmokyeyesblankofexpression.thenhewentupthestepsandpulledthescreendooropen.acloudoffliesbuzzedangrilyandthensettledonthescreenagainasthedoorclosed.

“marlowe?”dr.verringergavemehisattentionagain.“andwhatcanidoforyou,mr.marlowe?”

“earlsaysyouareoutofbusinesshere.”

“thatiscorrect.iamjustwaitingforcertainlegalformalitiesbeforemovingout.earlandiarealonehere.”

“i’mdisappointed,”isaid,lookingdisappointed.“ithoughtyouhadamannamedwadestayingwithyou.”

hehoistedacoupleofeyebrowsthatwouldhaveinterestedafullerbrushman.“wade?imightpossiblyknowsomebodyofthatname—it’sacommonenoughname—butwhyshouldhebestayingwithme?”

“takingthecure.”