"We could have a shower and a swim and an early lunch. I'm starving."

"You have an early lunch. I'll go downtown and look for an office. There must be some business in Poodle Springs. There's a lot of money here and I might grab off an occasional nickel."

"I hate you. I don't know why I married you. But you were so insistent."

I grabbed her and held her close. I browsed on her eyebrows and her lashes, which were long and tickly. I passed on to her nose and cheeks, and then her mouth. At first it was just a mouth, then it was a darting tongue, then it was a long sigh, and two people as close as two people can get.

"I settled a million dollars on you to do with as you like," she whispered.

"A nice kind gesture. But you know I wouldn't touch it."

"What are we to do, Phil?"

"We have to ride it out. It's not always going to be easy. But I am not going to be Mr. Loring."

"I'll never change you, will I?"

"Do you really want to make a purring pussycat out of me?"

"No. I didn't marry you because I had a lot of money and you had hardly any. I married you because I love you and one of the things I love you for is that you don't give a damn for anybody-sometimes not even for me. I don't want to make you cheap, darling. I just want to try to make you happy."

"I want to make you happy. But I don't know how. I'm not holding enough cards. I'm a poor man married to a rich wife. I don't know how to behave. I'm only sure of one thing-shabby office or not, that's where I became what I am. That's where I will be what I will be."

There was a slight murmur and Augustino appeared in the open doorway bowing, with a deprecating smile on his elegant puss.

"At what time would Madame prefer luncheon?"

"May I call you Tino," I asked him. "Only because it's easier."

"But certainly, sir."

"Thank you. And Mrs. Marlowe is not Madame. She is Mrs. Marlowe."

"I am very sorry, sir."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Some ladies like it. But my wife bears my name. She would like her lunch. I have to go out on business."

"Very good, sir. I'll prepare Mrs. Marlowe's lunch at once."

"Tino, there is one other thing. Mrs. Marlowe and I are in love. That shows itself in various ways. None of the ways are to be noticed by you."

"I know my position, sir."

"Your position is that you are helping us to live comfortably. We are grateful to you for that. Maybe more grateful than you know. Technically you are a servant. Actually you are a friend. There seems to be a protocol about these things. I have to respect protocol just as you do. But underneath we are just a couple of guys."

He smiled radiantly. "I think I shall be very happy here, Mr. Marlowe."

You couldn't say how or when he disappeared. He just wasn't there. Linda rolled over on her back and lifted her toes and stared at them.

"What do I say now! I wish the hell I knew. Do you like my toes?"

"They are the most adorable set of toes I have ever seen. And there seems to be a full set of them."

"Get away from me, you horror. My toes are adorable."

"May I borrow the Fleetwood for a little while? Tomorrow I'll fly to L.A. and pick up my Olds."

"Darling, does it have to be this way? It seems so unnecessary."

"For me there isn't any other way," I said.

3

The Fleetwood purred me down to the office of a man named Thorson whose window said he was a realtor and practically everything else except a rabbit fancier.

He was a pleasant-looking baldheaded man who didn't seem to have a care in the world except to keep his pipe lit.

"Offices are hard to find, Mr. Marlowe. If you want one on Canyon Drive, as I assume you do, it will cost you."

"I don't want one on Canyon Drive. I want one on some side street or on Sioux Avenue. I couldn't afford one on the main stem."

I gave him my card and let him look at the photostat of my license.

"I don't know," he said doubtfully. "The police department may not be too happy. This is a resort town and the visitors have to be kept happy. If you handle divorce business, people are not going to like you too well."

"I don't handle divorce business and people very seldom like me at all. As for the cops, I'll explain myself to them, and if they want to run me out of town, my wife won't like it. She has just rented a pretty fancy place in the section out near Romanoff's new place."

He didn't fall out of his chair but he damn well had to steady himself. "You mean Harlan Potter's daughter? I heard she had married some-well the hell with it, what do I mean? You're the man, I take it. I'm sure we can fix you up, Mr. Marlowe. But why do you want it on a side street or on Sioux Avenue? Why not right in the best section?"

"I'm paying with my own money. I don't have a hell of a lot."

"But your wife-"

"Listen good, Thorson. The most I make is a couple of thousand a month-gross. Some months nothing at all. I can't afford a showy layout."

He lit his pipe for about the ninth time. Why the hell do they smoke them if they don't know how?

"Would your wife like that?"

"What my wife likes or dislikes doesn't enter into our business, Thorson. Have you got anything or haven't you? Don't con me. I've been worked on by the orchids of the trade. I can be had, but not by your line."

"Well-"

A brisk-looking young man pushed the door open and came in smiling. "I represent the Poodle Springs Gazette, Mr. Marlowe. I understand-"

"If you did, you wouldn't be here." I stood up. "Sorry, Mr. Thorson, you have too many buttons under your desk. I'll look elsewhere."

I pushed the reporter out of the way and goofed my way out of the open door. If anybody ever closes a door in Poodle Springs, it's a nervous reaction. On the way out I bumped into a big florid man who had four inches and thirty pounds on me.

"I'm Manny Lipshultz," he said. "You're Philip Marlowe. Let's talk."

"I got here about two hours ago," I said. "I'm looking for an office. I don't know anybody named Lipshultz. Would you please let me by?"

"I got something for you maybe. Things get known in this burg. Harlan Potter's son-in-law, huh? That rings a lot of bells."

"Blow."

"Don't be like that. I'm in trouble. I need a good man."

"When I get an office, Mr. Lipshultz, come and see me. Right now I have deep affairs on my mind."

"I may not be alive that long," he said quietly. "Ever hear of the Agony Club? I own it."

I looked back into the office of Senor Thorson. The newshawk and he both had their ears out a foot.

"Not here," I said. "Call me after I talk to the law." I gave him the number.

He gave me a tired smile and moved out of the way. I went back to the Fleetwood and tooled it gracefully to the cop house down the line a little way. I parked in an official slot and went in. A very pretty blonde in a policewoman's uniform was at the desk.

"Damn all," I said. "I thought policewomen were hard-faced. You're a doll."

"We have all kinds," she said sedately. "You're Philip Marlowe, aren't you? I've seen your photo in the L.A. papers. What can we do for you, Mr. Marlowe?"

"I'm checking in. Do I talk to you or to the duty sergeant? And which street could I walk down without being called by name?"

She smiled. Her teeth were even and as white as the snow on top of the mountain behind the Springs. I bet she used one of the nineteen kinds of toothpaste that are better and newer and larger than all the others.

"You'd better talk to Sergeant Whitestone." She opened a swing gate and nodded me toward a closed door. I knocked and opened it and I was looking at a calm-looking man with red hair and the sort of eyes that every police sergeant gets in time. Eyes that have seen too much nastiness and heard too many liars.