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Sammy looked in on her. The night light was on, and the air conditioner in the nearby window was blowing gently. They kept the conditioner on all night, the same as the radio in the daytime, so that if she did cry out suddenly, the cry would be muffled.

He took a long look. She was lying on her left side, half curled up. “I’m getting darn tired of her,” he said.

“So who brought her? I kept telling you to dump her out.”

“Sure, didn’t matter if the cops was about to plug us, I was to stop the car, run around and open the door, and help her out.”

“You panicked, Sammy. You plain lost your big, fat head.”

Sammy swung about, fists clenched. “Don’t try eatin’ me out. Don’t try it,” He turned away. “I’ve got the shakes to­night. Wish I had a drink.”

They had agreed at the start that neither would take any­thing stronger than a beer. “More guys’ve been caught that way,” Dan had said. “One drink too many and we all talk.”

And now Sammy flared up again. “And while you’ve got the sledge hammer out, who grabbed her in the first place? We could’ve shot our way out easy enough.”

It was in the open now, what they had been thinking for seven days, this one major error they had committed. Some­one had set off the alarm in the bank, and outside people stopped, and a few drifted over to look in. Dan saw quickly that, as they left, a man or even a boy in the gathering crowd might jump them, since there was always one crazy fool about. To thwart such a move, Dan seized the woman and forced her at gun point ahead of them to their car. That move was brilliant, Dan thought, but then he had shouted repeatedly and angrily at Sammy to slow up so he could push her out. Grudgingly, Dan would admit only to himself that it had never occurred to him that no matter how fast Sammy was driving he could have opened the door and shoved her out. So what if she had been killed in the fall?

Now Dan said softly, “Okay, we both got the shakes. So let’s take it easy, huh? We’re stuck with her, and that’s that.”

“Not me. I’d take care of her. Right now.” He looked down at his hands, palms up, the fingers wide apart and curl­ing slightly. “She’d never know what happened. She’d just go away in her sleep. You’ve got to know where to put the thumbs.”

Dan stared in disgust. “What about the body?”

“I got a bin spotted in an alley back of Ventura Boulevard . You know, one of those big bins the stores toss their empty cartons in.”

“So we heat up the neighborhood with cops all over the place – if we don’t get caught first dumping her.” He paced about. “I’m not about to gamble two hundred grand and our necks on a long shot like that.”

Sammy took out a pack of cigarettes, offered Dan one. “Got a light?” Dan produced a match, and Sammy continued, “Look, we’ve got to do it sometime. We can’t stay here for­ever.” He grinned. “Maybe you’re thinking of adopting her, huh? Maybe you’re just crazy for a mother.”

Dan took his time lighting the cigarette. “It’s not easy get­ting rid of a body. But I’ll come up with something. Give me time, Sammy, a little time.”

5

Patti eased the Volkswagen into a space at the farthermost point from Bullock’s entrance on the second level. She watched the rearview mirror, and eventually saw him ap­proach. He was a tall man, and in need, she thought, of some home-cooked dinners. He was younger than the matu­rity in his voice had led her to believe. She liked his walk, which had an easy roll and none of the exaggerated confi­dence affected by so many young men in business.

He came alongside her slowly, looking her over, too, and enjoying what he saw – a girl with an early-morning, dew-on-the-daisies look, and yet reflecting smartness and a touch of sophistication, qualities he liked in a woman when com­bined with naturalness.

“Miss Randall?” he asked tentatively, and she nodded.

“I’m Zeke Kelso.” He showed her his credentials.

She barely glanced at the card, “Won’t you get in?”

She was conscious of the middle-aged woman who had parked nearby and whose body was now heading for the en­trance although the head was screwed around in the opposite direction so she could stare at them, and conjecture. A girl drives up and parks, a man does the same, and the man gets in the girl’s car. An early-morning rendezvous. The head swiveled back into position only when the body collided with that of another shopper.

Zeke was saying, “Thanks for calling us right away.” He offered her a cigarette, which she refused. “I’ve got to ask you questions, a lot of them. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

He was looking her over rather thoroughly, and she said, “I’ve always thought what a break a man got being an FBI agent. He can case a girl from head to foot on the grounds he is trying to evaluate her.”

He grinned, the way he always did when he was flustered. “Forgive me – I really was – “

“Studying my character?” She laughed.