The note. He ran out the front door and across the street to Mabel’s. It was such a warm evening that her door was open, and he could see that the TV was on. He put his hands up to the screen door to peer inside and said, “Mabel!”

The old woman shuffled in from the back bedroom of the cottage, wearing pajamas, a bathrobe, and fuzzy slippers, and said, “Farley? What’re you doing here?”

“Do you know where Olive is?”

“Why, no.”

“She left a note saying she was having supper with you.”

“Yes, she did. And Olive found Tillie under your house where she’d made a nice little den for herself. Tillie’s in my bedroom now, the little brat. I never have completely domesticated her.”

“Did Olive say where she was going when she left?”

“Yes, home.”

Farley had to sit down and ponder that when he got back to the house. Everything was going wrong lately. His entire world was upside down. Without a dollar to her name, that toothless fucking scarecrow had abandoned his ass! This was impossible! That imbecile Olive Oyl had actually dumped Farley Ramsdale, who’d given her everything!

This time it was Cosmo who was lying on the bed trying to quell a throbbing headache. He had quickly briefed Ilya on what had happened and then fell on his knees beside her chair and kissed her hands.

He is beaten, Ilya thought. Cosmo is crying for Mommy. He would never strike her again.

Ilya prepared her third glass of hot tea and lit a cigarette with the butt of the last and finally said, “Cosmo, all is a fuckup.”

“Yes, Ilya,” he murmured painfully.

“I think we must pack the suitcase and make ready to fly away.”

“Yes, Ilya,” Cosmo said. “What you say, I do.”

“On other hand,” she said, looking from one palm to the other for emphasis, “we do not know for absolute truth that Farley has our money.”

“Ilya, please!” Cosmo said. “The money is gone. Farley is gone. I cannot get to Farley with cell. Farley always have cell with him. He is addict. Addict must have cell.”

“One way we find out,” she said. “Sit up, Cosmo!”

He obeyed instantly.

“Call Farley. Go with plan. Tell him Gregori need key cards. Many more. Will pay top money. Let us hear what he shall say.”

Cosmo’s head was aching too much for this but it was impossible not to obey her. He felt as though he was back in Soviet Armenia and the Comrade Chairman himself had spoken. He was afraid of her now. He dialed.

“Hello!” Farley yelled into his cell.

Cosmo was stunned. He couldn’t speak for a moment and Farley said, “Olive? Is that you?”

Looking at Ilya, Cosmo said, “Is me, Farley.”

“Cosmo?” Farley said. “I thought it was Olive. That fucking tweaker has up and disappeared!”

“Olive?” Cosmo said. “Gone?”

He saw the wry smile turn up the corners of Ilya’s mouth, and he said, “You know where she go to?”

“No,” Farley said. “The cunt. I ain’t got a clue.”

Ilya was mouthing the words “Ask him,” and Cosmo said, “I very sorry, Farley. You know Gregori? He need more cards right away.”

“Key cards? Cosmo, you forgot that you and me got a little business deal coming up? You think I’m gonna keep waiting? You think I’m gonna fuck around with key cards?”

“Please, Farley,” Cosmo said. “Do this for me. I owe big favor to Gregori. Just drop off cards at his junkyard tonight. He work to midnight. He will give you fast hundred fifty. You buy crystal.”

The word “crystal” struck a chord with Farley. He wanted to smoke ice more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. This was the kind of deal where he desperately needed Olive. If she were here, he’d drive her over there to the junkyard and send her in. If Cosmo had a plan to waste them, he’d have to settle for Olive. Goddamn her!

“I only got about ten of the primo cards left,” Farley said.

“Is enough,” Cosmo said. “Gregori got a bunch new worker who must have driving license. Gregori so cheap his old worker not stay long. Always new worker.”

“Is that dog in the yard?”

“I tell Gregori to tie up dog. No problem.”

“You tell Gregori to call me. If he says come, I come. He ain’t a violent type. He’s a businessman. You I ain’t so sure about.”

“Okay, I call Gregori now,” Cosmo said. “And if he say come?”

“Then I’ll be there at nine o’clock. Tell Gregori to put the money in a bag and stick the bag between the links of the gate. If the money’s there, I’ll drive in and give him the cards.”

“Okay, Farley,” Cosmo said. Then he added, “Call me if Olive come home.”

“Why?”

“I think I got good job for her.”

“You better have my big bucks this weekend, Cosmo,” Farley said. “Let me worry about Olive if she comes home.”

When Cosmo closed the cell, Ilya took a great puff from her cigarette, sucked it into her lungs, and with her words enveloped in smoke clouds said, “If he go to junkyard tonight, he don’t know nothing about ATM robbery.”

“But I shall kill him anyways. The diamond blackmail shall end.”

“Blackmail still there, Cosmo. Olive has our money and Olive know all about both our jobs. Olive is full of danger for us. Not Farley so much.”

“But I shall kill him anyways?”

“Yes, he must die. Olive may give up the blackmail. She got lot of money now. She buy lot of drugs and die happy in two, three years.”

“Our money,” he said.

“Yes, Cosmo. She got our money, I think so. Call Gregori now. Say again and make him to believe you only scare Farley to pay a debt he owe you. Tell Gregori you will pay money for the Mazda on Monday.”

Before phoning Gregori, Cosmo said, “Ilya, you tell me. When Gregori come to bring key to junkyard, you fuck him. No?”

“Of course, Cosmo,” she said. “Why?”

“If he getting scared about Farley, scared about Mazda that I want to crush to scrap, is okay if I tell him you wish to make him glass of tea one more time? To make him calm?”

“Of course, Cosmo,” she said. “My tea is best in all of Hollywood. Ask Gregori. Ask anybody who taste my tea.”

Six-X-Seventy-two got the call twenty minutes after they’d left the House of Chang. Hollywood Nate spun a U-ee and floored it. He craved redemption.

When they got back to the restaurant, Mrs. Chang tossed her head in the direction of the kitchen. And there they found Trombone Teddy sitting at the chopping block by the back door, happily scarfing down a huge bowl of pan-fried noodles.

“Teddy,” Nate said. “Remember us?”

“I ain’t causing no trouble,” he said. “They invited me in here.”

“Nobody says you’re causing trouble,” Nate said. “A couple questions and you can sit and enjoy your noodles.”

Wesley said, “Remember the fight you had on the boulevard? We’re the officers that got the call. You gave me a card with a license number on it. Remember?”

“Oh yeah!” Teddy said, a noodle plastered to his beard. “That son of a bitch sucker-punched me.”

“That’s the night,” Nate said. “Do you still have the card? With the license number?”

“Sure,” Teddy said. “But nobody wants it.”

“We want it now,” Wesley said.

Trombone Teddy put down his fork and searched inside his third layer of shirts, dug into a pocket with grimy fingers, and pulled out the House of Chang business card.

Wesley took it, looked at the license number, and nodded to Nate, who said, “Teddy, what kind of car was it that the mail thief was driving?”

“An old blue Pinto,” Teddy said. “Like I wrote down on the card.”

“And what did the guy look like?”

“I can’t remember no more,” Teddy said. “A white guy. Maybe thirty. Maybe forty. Nasty mouth. Insulted me. That’s why I wrote down the license number.”

“And his companion?” Wesley said.

“A woman. That’s all I can remember.”

“Would you recognize either of them if you saw them again?” Nate said.

“No, they was just dark shadows. He was just a dark shadow with a nasty mouth.”