"Lewis, don't jump to conclusions."

"You've been doing all the jumping around here." Lewis' hand went into his pocket, and came out with a small, flat pistol. "Let's see how you jump on top of this."

"Lewis." It was Ida, awake and bolt upright.

"You bitch, who did you think you were fooling with that story about the money?"

"It's true, the money is right over there in that bag."

"Just an excuse for a dirty weekend."

"It's only Thursday," Vince pointed out.

"You bitch. You whore."

"Don't you dare call me that."

"You said you had a permissive marriage," Vince complained. He was beginning to feel silly again. He turned to Lewis. "That's what she said."

"Be quiet," Ida hissed. She realized that she was naked, and she pulled the blankets up to her shoulders. "Lewis, put down that gun before you hurt somebody."

"You wanna see hurt, you're gonna see hurt."

"Close that door, people can hear."

Lewis kicked the door shut without looking at it. Vince tried to make himself small under the blankets. He muttered, "You said he didn't get jealous. You said that he understood your needs."

"Leave this to me, will you?"

"I heard that," Lewis said sharply. "What needs? What kind of needs do you have that I don't take care of?"

Vince leaned close to Ida. "You said you had an understanding."

"So I lied." Ida spat out the words. "I lied, all right? Now will you please shut up?"

"What needs, huh? You tell me that?"

"Honey, I know this looks bad, but I can explain."

Vince let her explain. He did not try to talk. He had enough to do to keep from laughing. He felt it in his chest and throat, and he had to work to keep it down.

Can't laugh now, he thought, spoil the big scene. Old Lewis, got a face on him like a tiger, snow on his hat and a pistol in his hand. Gentle Lewis, wouldn't swat a fly or step on a bug, but he's got this cute little pistol with a silencer on it, the kind that goes phut. Sweet little Ida clutching the bedclothes to her bosom, so modest, but why? Just Lewis and me, husband and lover, so why? Funny, that's why. The whole thing is incredibly funny, just the idea of my old friend Lewis Whitney shooting off a pistol…

Phut.

Lewis fired. The bullet went into the wall. Ida screamed, and dived under the covers. Vince threw his head back, and roared with laughter. He couldn't help himself, it came pouring out. Lewis stared at him in disbelief.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" he asked. "You think this gun is funny?"

Helpless with laughter, Vince couldn't answer. He nodded as he gasped for breath.

"Laugh this one off."

Phut.

Lewis fired again. This time the bullet went into the ceiling. Vince tried to catch his breath and began to hiccup.

From under the blankets, Ida screamed, "Stop laughing, you're only making it worse."

Phut. The wall again.

She's right, you have to stop, he told himself. It isn't funny. I mean it is, but it isn't. The man is out for blood, he's looking to kill, but I can't… can't stop. It's so ridiculous, a farce. I wanted a French farce, and I got it. Now all we need is for Domino and Anthony to walk in through that door.

The door crashed open. Domino and Anthony walked in. They both held pistols with silencers, the kind that go phut. Anthony was smiling; Domino looked grim.

Anthony said, "Drop it."

Lewis turned slowly to face them. He dropped his pistol on the floor. He said, "Who the hell are you?"

"Black hats," Vince explained. "The bad guys." His head was throbbing fiercely again, but his lips were stretched in a grin. It was still very funny.

Anthony said to Lewis, "Back up." He motioned with his pistol. "On the bed."

Lewis stepped back until he felt the bed behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed. He also sat on Ida's foot. Ida squeaked, and her head popped out from under the blankets. She took a look at Domino and Anthony, and dove back under.

"Close the door," said Domino. "We don't want to wake the dead."

Anthony kicked the door shut without looking at it. Domino came over to Vince's side of the bed. She stood over him. He grinned up at her, and said, "Tennis, anyone?"

One corner of her lips twitched. "Only if we play by my rules."

"I can live with that."

"I doubt it. You're not going to live with anything much longer. I let you off the hook once, but you couldn't leave it alone, could you?"

"Just doing my job."

"And I'm just doing mine."

"There's a difference."

"Not to me, there isn't. Who's the woman?"

"His wife."

"So how come you're the one without any clothes on?"

"Well, you know how it is."

"Yeah." Over her shoulder, she said to Anthony. "What do you think?"

"It could work," he said judiciously. "Husband discovers wife in love nest, kills them both, then plugs himself. Happens all the time."

"Make sure you use the same gun," Vince suggested.

Domino asked him, "Why are you smiling?"

"I don't know. I think it was the knock on the head that he gave me. Everything seems funny."

"Well, stop it. I don't like it."

Vince managed to pull his face into serious lines. "Better?"

"There's nothing funny about this."

"I know that. Deep down inside, I know that. Look, how about you let these two walk. They're civilians, they don't know anything about this."

"No way," said Anthony. "They all go."

Domino nodded. "Has to be. And it has to be now."

Lewis shifted on the bed so that he could see Domino. "Does this mean that you're going to kill us?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything that I can do or say that could get us out of this?"

"No."

"I control a great deal of money."

"No."

"And influence."

"No."

Lewis sighed. "Before you… I'd like to say something to my wife. May I?"

"We're burning time," said Anthony.

Domino hesitated, then she nodded. "Go ahead."

"Ida?"

Her face slowly appeared, the blankets under her chin. She looked up at her husband. Her eyes were filled with fear, but her lips and chin were steady. "Yes, Lewis."

"I don't have time to say much, but I want to say that I love you. I always have, I never stopped, and right now I love you more than ever. I'm sorry that it has to end this way, but I wanted you to know that, and I wanted you to know that… this business with Vince tonight, I forgive you-"

"You what?" She sat up. The blankets dropped, and she pulled them up. "You forgive me? What about that time with Martha Jackson? What about that hooker in Chicago? What about all those times you came home smelling like a perfume factory?"

"Hold it, there was never anything between Martha and me, she's just a colleague, that's all-"

"And what about the other one in your office, the fat one?"

"Ellen isn't fat."

"She's built like a bratwurst. It wouldn't be so bad if you had some taste."

"I married you, didn't I?"

"The one and only time. What about Mary Lou, and the other one, what's her name…?"

She went on and on, and Vince began to laugh again.

"Stop it," Domino ordered. "Stop laughing."

But he couldn't. It was the ultimate insanity, husband and wife facing the end, and bickering right down to the wire. That was funny enough, but funnier still was the feeling that the best was yet to come. Because Lewis Whitney would never have driven through the night from New York to New Hampshire all by himself. Lewis did nothing by himself anymore. He didn't pick up a package, or open a door, or light a cigar by himself these days if he could help it, not with the small army that he had running around and doing things for him. He never would have come alone, he must have brought people with him, thought Vince, and if this is really a high-class farce a couple of heavyweights should come busting through that door right about… now.