Greta said, "You only found out what her last name is yesterday."

Chris said, "Yeah, but also the kind of life she was into, going back to the seventies. If she associated with guys like Donnell, a Black Panther, that's a pretty good lead. Maureen didn't find Robin in the computer, so she checked with the Bureau, the FBI office here, and the agent Maureen happened to talk to knew all about her. Also this guy."

Chris's gaze dropped to the newspaper.

"Emerson Gibbs."

Greta looked at the two names he'd written on the front page.

"Who's Marilyn Abbott?"

"Her mother. Maureen's gonna call her, see if she knows where Robin is. This guy, Emerson Gibbs, was convicted with Robin on the same bomb charge and did three and a half years. Both, it turns out, were heavy-duty political activists back at that time." Chris paused.

"You know what I mean, back during the hippie days?"

"I was in grade school," Greta said.

"But I was in Hair when I was going to Oakland University. I went two years."

She sang then, in a soft murmur, "

"This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius…"

" stopped and said, "Were you a hippie?"

"I'm not sure what I was," Chris said.

"I was sort of on the edge of it. I took part in a couple of peace marches, a big one in Washington, and I went to Woodstock…"

"Really?"

"And then I went to Vietnam."

"You did?"

"For a while. I came back they were still marching, but"-Chris shook his head-"I didn't."

Greta reached across the table for his hand, looking at his serious expression. She said, "Here we are playing house and I find out I barely know you." That got a little smile.

"You have a lot to tell me about."

"I'll tell you where we are right now," Chris said.

"Maureen looks for Robin as a possible witness in a sexual assault case. But all of a sudden Robin becomes a suspect in a homicide investigation. Which wouldn't have happened if you hadn't seen her there Saturday night. But now, you understand, Homicide will have a priority, first dibs."

"It's okay," Greta said.

"If Maureen talks to her at all, it could be in the Wayne County jail."

"Really, it doesn't matter," Greta said.

"I don't see any reason to go to court if I'm gonna lose."

"Yeah, but at least you get to accuse him in public."

"I thought it over while I was taking a shower. I'm considering Mr.

Woody's offer."

There was a silence. Chris stared at her across the table. Then shrugged.

"It's up to you."

"You think I'm wrong?"

He took his time.

"If you look at it as an out-of-court settlement for mental anguish, or for injuries received, something along those lines-" "I like mental anguish," Greta said.

"Remember the TV preacher who went to bed with a twenty-year-old girl?

He did it once about seven years ago and lost his ministry and his theme park."

"I read something about it," Chris said.

"The preacher went to a religious psychologist on account of he was feeling so guilty. The psychologist said the preacher writhed on the floor for ten minutes kicking and screaming, making himself sick."

Chris said, "

"Cause he got laid, once, seven years ago?"

"His guilt was so enormous."

"I've heard of guys kicking and screaming when they didn't get laid-"

Greta said, "Listen to me, all right? The girl went to see a man who investigates preachers who fool around and get in trouble. The man put her in touch with a religious lawyer and they told the preacher they were gonna sue him for millions of dollars."

"You mean they blackmailed the poor asshole."

"No, they threatened to sue him, in court, on account of her mental anguish. See?"

"But if she went to bed with the preacher willingly…"

"She claims they put something in her wine-I don't know. But if you can make love to a guy and soak him two hundred and sixty-five thousand, which is what they settled on out of court, what is the mental anguish from a rape worth? I don't think there's any comparison."

"You want to get a lawyer?"

"No way. Out of the first payment received the lawyer, and I think the guy who investigates preachers who fool around, took ninety-five thousand and the poor girl got twenty. The hell with that. And now that everybody knows about it she probably won't get another cent. What I'm asking is, If that's legal, do you think I'd be wrong to accept Woody's offer?"

Chris said, "No, but you might be a little hasty. The way it was explained to me, the amount of the settlement is based on what Mr.

Woody's valuable time is worth to him, without even considering your time, your mental anguish and so on."

Greta began to smile as Chris went on:

"No, I don't think twenty-five grand is fair to either of you."

I aureen Downey's voice said, "Where were you, in the bathroom?"

"I was resting."

"It's ten o'clock in the morning."

"I know what time it is."

"I'm at Five-fifteen Canfield, in the manager's office.

He said Robin should be around somewhere, she doesn't work and hasn't left town. Her car's parked on the street."

"You call her mother?"

"I tried, no answer. Listen, Wendell likes your idea.

Start talking to her about the rape and slide into the homicide. He's gonna meet me here."

"When?"

"In about an hour."

"Call me, soon as you talk to her."

"Why're you so anxious?"

Chris paused.

"No-I'm coming too. I'll meet you there."

"Wendell won't like it."

"I'll talk to him." Chris said goodbye, placed the phone against his chest and turned his head on the pillow to look at Greta, her dark brown eyes looking back at him.

"That was Maureen."

"I heard."

Skip had thought that today he'd pretend he was a wealthy suburbanite: drop his ration of acid, sit back with a few cold beers, his feet up, and watch movies on cable TV, cars bursting in flames, stunt men being shot off of high places-see if he could recognize the work, or how it was done if it was a new gag-and then Robin said they were leaving because the phone had rung.

He'd told her, "You don't think it was for you, do you?

It's some old lady calling your mother."

She'd looked at that phone like it was wired to blow and told him to stop and think. What if someone called while she was on the phone talking to Woody? They'd get a busy signal, right? And that would mean someone's in the house, right? But her mother's friends would know she was on a cruise.

So you know what they'd do? Skip asked Robin to tell him. They'd call the cops-that's what they'd do!

She wasn't thinking.

Skip said, If your mother's friends know she's on a cruise, why would they call?

Now Skip wasn't thinking.

Never use logic on an emotional woman. Or one in any state, for that matter. Robin gave him her killer look instead of an answer. So Skip tried another approach, trying to sound sincere. Robin? Even if the cops did come, what would they do? Ring the doorbell, look in some windows?

They didn't have a key, did they?

Yes!

That was where she had him, got him out of the chair in front of the TV and into the car. She was probably lying; she still had him because he couldn't prove otherwise. But what pissed her off most was something he couldn't help but mention.

"If it could get us in trouble, why did you want to call from your mom's in the first place?"

She said, "Because you had to get laid. That's the only reason I stayed at Mother's house, for you. " It hadn't even been that good.

Not anywhere near as good as it used to be. As for her laying the blame on him, that was typical of a man-eater like Robin, who had never in her life admitted being wrong and would think quick to incriminate whatever poor asshole was nearest. In this instance Skip sitting next to her in the Lincoln, Robin driving, Robin hauling ass eighty miles an hour down the Chrysler freeway to get home in time to call Woody before eleven. Most other cars were doing about seventy. They drove as fast here as they did in L.A." except out in L.A. there were more places to drive fast to.