"It's tiny," Penny said. "Where did you ever find this place?"

The red light on the answering machine, surprising Matt not at all, was blinking.

"My father owns it," he said. "The kitchen is that place back there with all the white things."

He motioned her ahead of him, and then ducked and pulled the answering machine's plug out of its socket.

"Does it have a toilet?"

"Off the bedroom," he said, catching up with her and pointing.

He unpacked the groceries, setting them on the kitchen counter. Then he went to the refrigerator and threw away all the food he had purchased with the noble intention of making his own meals, and which was now spoiled.

She came back into the kitchen.

"Would it help your crushed ego to learn that I am very sore?"

"Jesus," he said. "I'm sorry."

She walked quickly to him and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I'm not," she said. "Cheap at twice the price."

He put his hands on her shoulders, and then slid them down to her waist and pulled her against him. He ran the balls of his fingers along her spine and wondered why he found that so erotic.

After a moment, she pushed him away.

"Tarzan sit," Penny said. "Jane make food."

He went into the living room and put his pistol on the mantelpiece, and then sat down in his armchair. He looked at the dead answering machine.

And then he reached for the telephone, lifted it up, and consulted a typewritten list of telephone numbers.

Officer Jesus Martinez answered, sleepily, on the third ring.

"Martinez."

"This guy you're interested in: dark-skinned, maybe thirty, thirty-five, five-nine or…"

"Payne?" Jesus asked incredulously.

"…five-nine or ten. Maybe one-seventy. Wears his shirts unbuttoned to the navel?"

"What the hell?"

"You said his name is Lanzo, Lanza, something like that?"

"Lanza, Vito Lanza. What about him?"

"At two o'clock this morning, he was signing a two-thousand-dollar IOU in the back room at the Oaks and Pines Lodge," Matt said.

There was a long silence.

"Marker,"Martinez said, finally. "Not an IOU, a marker."

"I stand corrected."

"What were you doing up there?"

"Is this your guy, Hay-zus?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. How didyou know who he was?"

"He was carrying. I made him as a cop. And he made me…"

"Shit!"

"Not as a cop. I was in Las Vegas when he was. He recognized me from Vegas and spoke to me."

"You're sure he didn't make you as a cop?"

"As you're so fond of telling me, Hay-zus, I don't look like a cop."

There was another pause.

"Payne, keep this under your hat, will you?"

"Who would I tell? What would I tell? 'Inspector, I just happened to be in an illegal gambling joint, and you know what, I wasn't the only cop in there'?"

"Just keep it under your hat, Payne, okay?"

"Okay. Are you forgetting something, Hay-zus?"

"What?"

"Try, 'Thank you very much, Detective Payne.'"

"Thanks, Payne," Jesus said. "I'll get back to you."

He hung up.

Matt said, "You're welcome, Hay-zus," and put the phone back in its cradle. He pushed himself out of the chair and went into the kitchen.

Penny was at the stove, and there was the peculiar smell of frying Taylor Ham.

"One egg or two? Over light or sunny side up?"

"Two. Up. Have I got time for a shower?"

"A quick one."

When he came back into the kitchen, Penny was in the process of wiping up the last of her egg yolk with a piece of toast.

"Boy, for a fat girl, you sure don't eat much."

"Your eggs are probably cold, which serves you right. What is that I smell?"

"Some kind of after-shave that comes from the Virgin Islands or somewhere. I get a ritual bottle of it from Amy on suitable occasions."

"Nice," she said. "Who's 'Hay-zus'?"

"Martinez. A cop."

"You don't like him much, do you? I could tell from the tone of your voice."

"No, I don't suppose I do like him. He's a good cop, though."

"Are you a good cop?"

"You haven't been reading the newspapers. I'm a goddamned Dick Tracy."

"You almost got killed, didn't you?"

"Yes, I guess I did."

"You know I don't understand you being a cop at all, don't you?"

"There's a good deal about you I don't understand, either."

"Was that a simple statement of fact, or are we back to Tony? And other things?"

"Are we going to fight now? Are things back to normal?"

"I don't know if we're going to fight or not, but I don't think things are ever going to be the same between us." She paused. "Do you?"

"No. How could they be?"

"If you can keep your lust under control, you can kiss me, Matthew."

He leaned across the table and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"I like kissing you better than fighting with you," Penny said. " Let's try that for a while and see what happens."

Peter Wohl, lying in his bed, had just decided that his delicate condition, the session with Larkin, Washington, Malone, and John Barleycorn having lasted until after ten, indicated a couple of soft boiled eggs on toast, rather than a restaurant breakfast, when his door buzzer sounded.

Who the hell is that, at quarter to seven?

He got out of bed, put on a bathrobe, and walked barefoot to the door.

"Hello, Hay-zus," he said. "How are you? Come on in."

What the hell do you want? That you couldn't have said on the telephone?

"I brought this back," Martinez said, thrusting the loose-leaf notebook with BUREAU OF NARCOTICS AND DANGEROUS DRUGS Investigator's Manual FOR INTERNAL USE ONLY stamped on its cover at Wohl.

At seven o 'clock in the goddamned morning?

"Thank you," Wohl said.

"And I wanted to talk to you," Martinez said a little uncomfortably. "I thought it would be better if I came. Instead of calling, I mean."

"Absolutely. Do you know how to make coffee?"

"Yes, sir."

"You make the coffee, then, while I catch a quick shower," Wohl said, and pointed toward his kitchen.

"Yes, sir."

"What's on your mind, Hay-zus?" Wohl asked, walking into the kitchen buttoning the cuff of his shirt.

"Inspector, the last time I was here: sir, you asked me if I had a gut feeling about anybody, anybody dirty, I mean, and I told you I didn't."

And now you 're going to tell me, right?

"I remember."

"I did, but I didn't want to say anything."

"I understand. What's your gut feeling, Hay-zus?"

'There's a corporal out there, name of Vito Lanza."

"And you think he's dirty? Why?"

"He just came back from Las Vegas with a lot of money. Enough to buy a new Cadillac."

"Your pal Matt Payne was just in Vegas and did about the same thing."

"Payne's different. Payne's got money. He can afford that kind of money to gamble."

"Is that all you've got to go on, Hay-zus?"

"The day before yesterday, this Lanza had a lot of money, in cash, ninety-four hundred dollars, in his glove compartment."

Maybe he is onto something. That's a lot of money. Christ knows, I never had ninety-four hundred dollars in cash. But then I never gambled in Las Vegas, either. And how the hell does he know that?

"How do you know that?"

Martinez's face flushed.

The reason he knows that is that he went into this guy's car. My God!

"Forget I asked that question. That way you won't have to lie to me," Wohl said. "Anything else?"

"There was also a matchbook from a place in the Poconos, called the Oaks and Pines Lodge," Martinez said. "I called a guy I know in Vice and asked him about it, and he said they gamble in the back room of that place."