Dog growled and showed his teeth. My, what big teeth he has!

"It's okay," I told butler dude.

Dog sat and lolled his tongue sideways out of his mouth. My, what a huge tongue he has!

The butler I wanted to believe was named "Niven" led me down acres of marble and tile-paved hallways to show me into a magnificent office where a magisterial man of size, dressed all in black, bearded and mustached, awaited me.

"I will take Mister, ahem, Dog to the kitchen for a soup-bone repast," the butler announced. "Don't worry, Miss. He'll be returned even fatter and happier than he left you."

Since Dog looked lean and hungry and still somewhat sad at the moment, I hoped so.

"Fine," I said.

"Thank you, Godfrey," said my host. "Do keep him out of the lamb for tonight's supper."

Dog immediately turned and dragged Godfrey out of sight. This did not bode well for the lamb.

We were alone now, and my heart was beating like one of the drums in Rod Stewart's "The Rhythm of My Heart." It wasn’t reacting the erratic way Ric Montoya made it hiccup, but with the steady elevated rate I felt when I was hot after a story.

The magnificent office reminded me of Hearst Castle. I could barely absorb the details: enormously high coffered ceiling twinkling with gilt. Exquisitely carved wainscoting up to twelve feet, at least.

"Sit," Nightwine said before I could speak further. Did this feel like a dog-training class or what?

I sat, surprising myself. The rococo wooden chair would easily hold an archbishop. I felt like Alice in Wonderland. My feet didn't even touch the thick Turkey rug under my feet and I'm five-eight without heels.

"I must tell you, Miss…Street, you say?"

"I say and am."

"I must tell you, Miss Street, that I won't tolerate any of my copyrights being violated. Should you wish to make an issue of this, I will sue you to Kingdom Come. Which, the pundits tell us, will be sooner than we anticipate or like, given what disagreeable and unforeseen events happened at the recent Millennium. On the other hand, if you are reasonable and we can come to a civilized agreement, you will find me very amenable indeed to deal with."

That's when I realized that he took me for the double I saw playing the corpse on the CSI episode. That's when I also realized I had some decent pairs to play in my poker hand, primarily a deuce of queens: me and my double.

I mustered my forces to explain my mission. "I don't know what you think I'm here for, Mr. Nightwine-"

"A deal is a deal. You signed a contract. As you know, people clamor to play the corpses on my shows. Shopping mall auditions from here to Tokyo host hundreds and thousands of wannabe corpses. My show may pay the union minimum for a non-speaking extra, but the right corpse in the right episode can be in demand for speaking roles on other shows."

"I just had some questions."

"Speak to your agent. I can't recall if you had one or not."

I took a gamble. "No, it was just one of those mass open auditions."

Nightwine's bulk deflated a bit, as if he was a puffer fish relaxing.

"As you will recall from the contract, Nightwine Productions bought all rights to your likeness in this particular role."

"Do you mean naked? Or dead?"

"Both."

"Sort of puts some essential reins on my career."

"Of course we would give you a…dispensation, if a future role was not merely exploitive of your notoriety on my show."

"Notoriety?"

"I meant that as a compliment. It's much more difficult to portray a corpse than most people appreciate. That glassy morning-glory stare, that graveyard pallor, all natural to you, I see. Unfortunately the obsessive fans pick up on successful corpses and there's a black market in blue movies featuring my former players. I can't allow that. If that's what you're here to discuss-"

"Blue movies! No!"

"Delighted to find you the lady-" he caressed the word with a tongue that tied itself into a sensual knot of over-precise diction "-your appearance on my dissecting table indicated you were."

"Your dissecting table?"

"I oversee almost every autopsy on my shows. Attention to details is what has made them the most popular franchise in the world. We have more spin-off units than McDonalds."

Yuck!

"It's possible that I might find a use for you on a future show. Perhaps even a one-line part, if you wore a wig and contact lenses. Perhaps green."

"I hate green."

"Aqua? That would be a suitable compromise. I see you have added a creature to your entourage."

"An entourage of one."

"Well, I approve, although he is somewhat large and galumphing."

He could have been describing himself. I watched his beady dark eyes shift left and right. This was a man preparing to lie, or preparing to scam.

"My dear lady. I realize the compassion that spurred you to adopt such a beast-"

"You do? How?"

He shrugged great rounded shoulders as black and looming as mountains in a Chinese print. "Forgive me. My operations must be kept secret or I'd be ripped off. I have an extensive security camera system. I couldn't help seeing you in the park."

Voyeur! Did this creep see me dowsing with Ric? My pulse went stratospheric. I felt again the tempestuous emotions of the quick and the soon dead under the ground at my feet. And Ric's iron arms around me, his iron…never mind.

Nightwine nattered on. "The beast is huge and ungoverned yet might not be an impractical acquisition. However, where will you find rented quarters that will take him? Even apartments are supersonically priced around Las Vegas, and I'm afraid very few will accept dogs, especially a dog of size like yours. Believe me, I do feel for him. Perhaps I can help you."

"Why are you being so…hospitable?'

"You need a place to live where you can keep the dog."

"That's my problem."

"Yes, of course, but I do have a guesthouse on the premises. Completely separate entrance and egress, very charming, hot-and-cold running servants, laundry service, pool service."

"You propose that I rent from you?"

"You'll find me a very amiable landlord."

"No. I'll find my own quarters, thank you. I prefer my independence."

"Then our discussion is over, I fear."

"I don't know why you agreed to see me if you had so little to say."

"It's possible we could do business in future." Nightwine pursed his ruby lips. They were small and bee-stung and totally creepy. "Perhaps you may reconsider. In time. My door is always open."

"Are you kidding? You have one of the most air-tight security systems I've ever seen."

"Flattery is also always welcome." His large, cerebral brow frowned. "I do advise you to accept my offer."

Was I detecting a faint, sweaty blossom of guilt on that Olympian brow? But why?

"I don't need charity. Why would you offer it?"

Nightwine's stern face softened into a beaming smile. "It was simply such a pleasure to see you again, my dear, even on my black-and-white security camera. And in the flesh, in living color, well, you are a symphony of pale peach and sky blue and with that very dramatic black hair. I was out of the country during your dissection and didn't view your segment until the show aired, and your…portrayal was quite, quite breathtakingly lovely."

He leaned forward to gaze at my bare legs as if they were basted with a golden almond-butterball glaze for Thanksgiving.

Ghoul!

Godfrey gave an Old World bow as he returned my new dog's scrawny temporary leash to my custody at the door when I left.

"Your associate was quite satisfied with the menu of our kitchens during your absence, Miss, but you'd do well to pause at an establishment dedicated to the canine palette and fashion wardrobe after you leave us. Might I recommend a stronger leash? Forged steel, perhaps. Twelve gauge. There is a Pet Palace about two miles from here."