He saw me looking at him.

"Been on the go," he said. "Haven't gotten a chance to clean up today."

I nodded. The office bottle was still there. He was gazing at it the way a cow looks at a meadow.

"Want a drink?" I said.

"Sure could use one," he said. "Sun's over the yard-arm somewhere, right?"

I got up and got the other glass from the sink and brought it over and poured both of us a substantial drink. He grabbed his and guzzled nearly a third of it before he put the glass down on the edge of my desk. He didn't let go of it, just sat with the glass in his hand resting on the desktop. I got my pipe out and began to fill it. He drank another third of his drink, and when he put it down I picked up the bottle and refilled the glass. He looked like he was going to cry in gratitude. I got my pipe packed and fired, and took a small sip of the second drink.

"Nice set-up you got here," he said.

"For rats, maybe," I said. "Is there anything you came to see me about?"

"You're too hard on yourself. It's a nice office," he said. "Not showy, maybe, but that's all front anyway. You've seen my place. Serves fine. Desk, file cabinet, what the hell else do you need?"

He drank some more of the bourbon and leaned back as the booze relaxed him.

"Man, I'll tell you what, that came from the right barrel."

I waited. I knew he'd vamp around for a while, but I also knew he was desperate. He'd wanted me bad enough to call Linda. He leaned over and picked up my pack of cigarettes.

"Mind?" he said.

I shook my head. He lit up, dragged in some smoke, took a swig of bourbon, swallowed, let the smoke trail out.

"Cops still looking for me, I suppose," he said.

"Yes," I said. "Me too."

"I didn't kill that bimbo," he said. "Hell, you believe me, you helped me get away."

"That was mostly Angel," I said.

"Angel?"

"I told you, you looked happy together. I'm a sucker for happy together."

"Yeah, I guess maybe things ain't working out so well for you either," he said. "You moving back to town and all."

I puffed on my pipe.

"You don't think I killed her, do you?"

"I don't know anymore," I said. "How about Lippy?"

"Lippy?"

"Yeah, you kill him?"

"Lippy? Lippy's dead?"

"You didn't know?" I said.

"How would I know?" he said. "I haven't been to the Springs in a week or so."

"How'd you know he was killed in the last week?" I said.

"Jesus, I don't. I just heard about it and I figure it woulda been news in Poodle Springs."

"Un huh," I said.

"I didn't kill anybody, Marlowe. You're the only guy I can talk to, the only one I can level with."

"Like you did when I dropped you off at Muriel's. That you'd stay there where I could find you."

"Yeah, sure, I know. I know I ran out on you. But I had to. I had to get away from there. You don't know what she's like. Her money, her father, what she needs, what she wants, what I have to do… I was suffocating there, Marlowe."

I reached in my drawer and brought out one of the 8x10 glossy prints of Muriel Valentine. I held it up so he could see it.

"Tell me about this," I said.

"Jesus," he said. "Where did you get that?"

"It's the picture Lola Faithful showed you in the bar before she was killed, isn't it?" I said.

"Where'd you get it? Come on, Marlowe, where did you?"

"The tooth fairy," I said, "left it instead of a quarter."

He drank some more bourbon, stubbed out the cigarette in the round glass ashtray on my desk and took another one from the pack without asking.

"That's how I met her," he said.

"She was posing for dirty pictures?" I said.

"She liked it," he said. "People in the business knew about her. Ask anybody. Kinky rich girl, come in and get photographed in the nude. The thing is, the funny thing, is that she had to know the pictures would be used. She wanted them sold, you know, distributed. She wanted to know some guy on the street would pick her picture up from someplace and see it."

"So you proposed at once," I said.

"No, Jesus, Marlowe, you're a sarcastic bastard."

"I try," I said. "Did you take her right home to Angel and introduce her?"

"Damn it, it was my chance. I'd been nickel and diming it for years. Man, I'm a damn artist, and all I got to do to make a living was take dirty pictures. Here was this broad had more dough than Howard Hughes, right there, in my lap, all the dough I wanted; for me, sure, but for Angel. Kid deserves everything."

"And look what she got," I said.

"Marlowe," he said. "I don't know what to do. If the cops find me it's all going to come out."

"If you took her picture," I said, "how come she doesn't know you're Larry Victor?"

"I was using Valentine, then. You know, like a stage name. Had a studio on Highland, near Melrose. I was trying to do serious photography under my own name. And like when I got the chance to marry her, well, then I opened up a new office, under my real name."

"To keep Angel in the dark," I said.

"Yeah. I didn't want any connection with Les Valentine for Angel. She never knew I was using the name anyway."

"Your mother know who you are?" I said.

"Marlowe, I didn't kill anybody, but if the cops get me the whole thing's going to come out. Angel will know, Muriel will know."

"And her old man will know and he will send a very tough guy named Eddie Garcia around to ask you about how come you have made a big mess out of your marriage to his daughter."

I took one of the hundred-dollar bills that his father-in-law by bigamy had given me and handed it across the desk to Victor.

'There's a flophouse on Wilcox," I said. "Just south of the boulevard. The Starwalk Motel. Check in there, get cleaned up, have something to eat, and stay there. I'll do what I can. If you're not there when I want you, I tell everybody everything and you're on your own."

Victor took the bill and stared at it.

"What's your real name," I said. "Victor or Valentine?"

"Victor… well, originally it was Schlenker, but I had it changed."

"To Victor," I said. "Larry Victor."

He nodded.

"Okay, Larry. Go down there and wait for me."

"How long?" he said. "I mean, I need action. I can't hang out forever in some flop."

"Blackstone finds out and you'll be hanging out in the big flop in the sky," I said. "I'll do what I can."

Victor nodded too often and too rapidly. He got up and put my cigarettes in his shirt pocket and folded the hundred over once in his pants pocket.

"Leave the bottle," I said.

He smiled automatically and rubbed his chin with his open hand.

"I'll hear from you?" he said.

I nodded. He turned toward the door.

"I told Angel about Muriel," I said.

He stopped with his back to me.

"What'd she say?" he said without turning around. "She didn't believe me," I said. Still with his back to me, he said, "You tell Muriel?"

"No."

He nodded and without looking back went to the door, opened it and left.