"Go the fuck away!" Louise called angrily.

"Miss Dutton, it's Peter Wohl," he called.

There was no response for a long moment, and Peter was just about to raise his cigarette lighter to knock on the door when it opened to the width its burglar chain would permit; wide enough for Louise Dutton to look out and see Peter, and that he was alone.

Then it closed and he heard the chain rattle, and then the door opened completely.

"I wasn't sure you would come," she said, and pulled him into the apartment and closed the door again.

She was wearing a blue skirt and a high-ruffle-collared blouse. The body of the blouse was so thin as to be virtually transparent. Through it he could see quite clearly that she wore no slip, only a brassiere, and that the brassiere was no more substantial than the blouse; he could see her nipples.

Her eyes looked more frightened than drunk, he thought, and there was something about her it took him a moment to think he recognized, an aura of sexuality.

She looks horny,Peter Wohl thought.

"Here I am," Peter said.

She put a smile on her face; grew, he thought, determinedly bright.

"And what did Mrs. Wohl say when you were summoned from your bed at two in the morning, when the crazy lady from TV called for you?" Louise Dutton asked.

I know what it is. She hasn't really been going around in a transparent shirt, baring her breasts. That skirt is part of a suit; there's a jacket, and when she wears that, only the ruffles show at the neck. That's what she wore when she was on TV.

"Nobody summoned me," Peter Wohl said. "I heard about it, and came. And the only Mrs. Wohl is my mother."

"They didn't send for you?" Louise asked, surprised. "Then why did you come?"

"I don't know," he said. "Why did you ask for me?"

"I'm scared, and a little drunk," she said.

"So'm I," he said. "A little drunk, I mean. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Bullshit!Have you been downstairs? Did you see what those… maniacs… did to that poor, pathetic little man?"

"There's nothing for you to be afraid of," Peter said.

"The cops are here, right? My knight in shining armor has just ridden up in his prowl car?"

"Actually, I came in my Jaguar," Peter said. "My department car was in the garage and I wasn't sure I was sober enough to back it out."

"AJaguar? " she asked, starting to giggle. "To go with that ridiculous turtleneck? I'll bet you even have got one of those silly little caps with the buttons in the front."

"I had one, but it blew off on the Schuylkill Expressway," he said.

She snorted, and then suddenly stopped. She looked at him, and bit her lower lip, and then she walked to him.

"Goddamn, I'm glad you're here," she said, and put her hand to his cheek. "Thank you."

And then, without either of them knowing exactly how it happened, he had his arms around her, and she was sobbing against his chest. He heard himself soothing her, and became aware that he was stroking her head, and that her arms were around him, holding him.

He could not remember, later, how long they had stayed like that. What he was to remember was that as he became aware of the warmth of her body against him, the pressure of her breasts against his abdomen, he had felt himself stirring. And when what had happened to him became evident to her, she pushed herself away from him.

"Well," she said, looking into his eyes, "this has been a bitch of a day, Peter Wohl, hasn't it? For both of us."

"I've had better," he said.

"What happens now?" Louise asked.

"There's a car waiting downstairs," Peter said. "It'll take you down to the Roundhouse, where you can make your statement, and then they'll type it up, and you can sign it, and then they'll bring you back here."

She looked at him, on the verge, he decided, of saying something, but not speaking.

"I'll go with you, if you'd like me to."

"I told that faded matinee idol everything I know," she said.

He chuckled, and she smiled back at him.

"I did the 'Nine's News' at eleven," Louise said. "And then I went with the producer for a drink. Okay, drinks. Three or four. Then I came home. I went into the lobby to check the mailbox. Jerome's door was open. I went in. I… saw what was in the bedroom. So I called the cops. That's all I know, Peter. And I told him."

"There's a procedure that has to be followed," Peter said. "The police department is a bureaucracy, Miss Dutton."

"'Miss Dutton'? " she quoted mockingly. "A moment ago, I thought we were at least on a first-name basis."

"Louise," Peter said, aware that his face was flushing.

"I'll be damned," she said. "A blushing cop!"

"Jesus Christ!" Peter said. "Do you always think out loud?"

"No," she said. "For some mysterious reason, I seem to be a little upset right now. But thinking out loud, I don't seem to be the only one around here who's a little off balance. Do you always calm down hysterical witnesses that way, Inspector?"

"Jesus H. Christ!" Wohl said, shaking his head.

"Don't misunderstand me," she said. "That wasn't a complaint. I just wondered if it was standard bureaucratic procedure."

"You know better than that," Peter said.

"Get me out of here, Peter," Louise said, softly, entreatingly.

"Where do you want to go?"

"I'm not that far yet," she said. "All I know is that I don't want to run the gauntlet of my professional associates outside, and that I can't,won't, spend the night here. I'mafraid, Peter."

"I told you, there's nothing to be afraid of," he said. "And I sent two officers downstairs to make sure you weren't hassled when you get in the car."

"There's an Arch Street entrance to the garage," she said. "I don't think the press knows about it."

"But you'd have to get past them to get to the garage," he said.

"There a passage in the basement," she said. "A tunnel. And even if they were on Arch Street, I could get down on the seat, or on the floor in the back, and they wouldn't see me."

"Take your car, you mean?" he asked.

"Please, Peter," she said.

Why not? She's calmed down. You can't blame her for wanting to avoid those press and TV bastards. I'll take her someplace and buy her a cup of coffee and then I'll go with her to the Roundhouse.

"Okay," he said. "Get your jacket."

"My jacket?" she asked, surprised, and then looked down at herself. " Oh, Christ!" She crossed her arms over her breasts and looked at him. "I wasn't expecting visitors."

"I'll be damned," he said. "A blushing TV lady."

"Fuck you, Peter," she flared.

"Promises, promises," he heard himself blurt.

"Youbastard! " she said, but she chuckled. She went farther into the apartment, and returned in a moment, shrugging into the jacket of her suit.

He waited until she had buttoned it, and then opened the door to the foyer. There was no one there. He pushed the elevator button, and he heard the faint whine of the electric motor. She stood very close to him, and her shoulder touched his. He put his arm around her shoulders.

"You're going to be all right, Louise," he said.

There was a uniform cop sitting on a wooden folding chair outside the elevator door in the basement. He got up quickly when he saw Wohl and Louise.

"I'm Inspector Wohl," Peter said. "I'm taking Miss Dutton out this way. Are you alone down here?"

"No, sir, a couple of guys are in the garage."

"Thank you," Peter said. He put his hand on Louise's arm and led her down the corridor. Halfway down the tunnel, she put a set of keys in his hand.

Two uniform cops walked quickly across the underground garage when they saw them. The eyes of one of them widened-a cop Wohl recognized, a bright guy named Aquila-when he recognized them.

"Hello, Inspector," Officer Aquila said.

"I'm going to take Miss Dutton out this way," Wohl said. "The press is all over the street."