“howwouldi?”

“theytieagoattoastakeandthenhideoutinablind.it’sapttoberoughonthegoat.ilikeyou.i’msureidon’tknowwhy,butido.ihatetheideaofyourbeingthegoat.youtriedsohardtodotherightthing—asyousawit.”

“niceofyou,”isaid.“ifistickmyneckoutanditgetschopped,it’sstillmyneck.”

“don’tbeahero,youfool,”shesaidsharply.“justbecausesomeoneweknewchosetobeafallguy,youdon’thavetoimitatehim.”

“i’llbuyyouadrinkifyou’regoingtobearoundlongenough.”

“buymeoneinparis.parisislovelyinthefall.”

“i’dliketodothattoo.ihearitwasevenbetterinthespring.neverhavingbeenthereiwouldn’tknow.”

“thewayyou’regoingyouneverwill.”

“goodbye,linda.ihopeyoufindwhatyouwant.”

“goodbye,”shesaidcoldly.“ialwaysfindwhatiwant.butwhenifindit,idon’twantitanymore.”

shehungup.therestofthedaywasablank.iatedinnerandlefttheoldsatanall-nightgaragetohavethebrakeliningschecked.itookacabhome.thestreetwasasemptyasusual.inthewoodenmailboxwasafreesoapcoupon.iwentupthestepsslowly.itwasasoftnightwithalittlehazeintheair.thetreesonthehillhardlymoved.nobreeze.iunlockedthedoorandpusheditpartwayopenandthenstopped.thedoorwasaboutteninchesopenfromtheframe.itwasdarkinside,therewasnosound.butihadthefeelingthattheroombeyondwasnotempty.perhapsaspringsqueakedfaintlyoricaughtthegleamofawhitejacketacrosstheroom.perhapsonawarmstillnightlikethisonetheroombeyondthedoorwasnotwarmenough,notstillenough.perhapstherewasadriftingsmellofmanontheair.andperhapsiwasjustonedge.

isteppedsidewaysofftheporchontothegroundandleaneddownagainsttheshrubbery.nothinghappened.nolightwentoninside,therewasnomovementanywherethatiheard,ihadaguninabeltholsterontheleftside,buttforward,ashort-barreledpolice38.ijerkeditoutanditgotmenowhere.thesilencecontinued.idecidediwasadamnfool.istraightenedupandliftedafoottogobacktothefrontdoor,andthenacarturnedthecornerandcamefastupthehillandstoppedalmostwithoutsoundatthefootofmysteps.itwasabig-blacksedanwiththelinesofacadillac.itcouldhavebeenlindaloring’scar,exceptfortwothings.nobodyopenedadoorandthewindowsonmysidewereallshuttight.iwaitedandlistened,crouchedagainstthebush,andtherewasnothingtolistentoandnothingtowaitfor.justadarkcarmotionlessatthefootofmyredwoodsteps,withthewindowsclosed.ifitsmotorwasstillrunningicouldn’thearit.thenabigredspotlightclickedonandthebeamstrucktwentyfeetbeyondthecornerofthehouse.andthenveryslowlythebigcarbackeduntilthespotlightcouldswingacrossthefrontofthehouse,acrossthehoodandup.

policemendon’tdrivecadillacs.cadillacswithredspotlightsbelongtothebigboys,mayorsandpolicecommissioners,perhapsdistrictattorneys.perhapshoodlums.thespotlighttraversed.iwentdownflat,butitfoundmejustthesame.itheldonme.nothingelse.stillthecardoordidn’topen,stillthehousewassilentandwithoutlight.

thenasirengrowledinlowpitchjustforasecondortwoandstopped.andthenatlastthehousewasfulloflightsandamaninawhitedinnerjacketcameouttotheheadofthestepsandlookedsidewaysalongthewallandtheshrubbery.

“comeonin,cheapie,”menendezsaidwithachuckle.“you’vegotcompany.”

icouldhaveshothimwithnotroubleatall.thenhesteppedbackanditwastoolate—evenificouldhavedoneit.thenawindowwentdownatthebackofthecarandicouldhearthethudasitopened.thenamachinepistolwentoffandfiredashortburstintotheslopeofthebankthirtyfeetawayfromme.

“comeonin,cheapie,”menendezsaidagainfromthedoorway.“therejustain’tanywhereelsetogo.”

soistraightenedupandwentandthespotlightfollowedmeaccurately.iputthegunbackintheholsteronmybelt.isteppedupontothesmallredwoodlandingandwentinthroughthedoorandstoppedjustinside.amanwassittingacrosstheroomwithhislegscrossedandagunrestingsidewaysonhisthigh.helookedrangyandtoughandhisskinhadthatdried-outlookofpeoplewholiveinsun-bleachedclimates.hewaswearingadarkbrowngabardine-typewindbreakerandthezipperwasopenalmosttohiswaist.hewaslookingatmeandneitherhiseyesnorthegunmoved.hewasascalmasanadobewallinthemoonlight.