Reg was enjoying his new bar tab at the Avocado grotto, achieved by simply flashing a few of the bills he'd paid to Bernie. Shelia kept his glass full and even managed a friendly smile and comment now and again. Life had its moments, he thought. He paused for a second, picturing Julie and Carleton together, and a hard lump settled in his throat. Bastards!

Shelia came by with a fresh bowl of nuts and suddenly Reg had a new thought. Karen! Now that he could pay off his debt and have a constant flow of capital, maybe she might just be open to an approach. After all, she was out of work with few prospects. He finished his drink and decided to take a run over and visit her. Who knew what might happen? Time to go where no Reg has ever gone before. Apologies to Captain Kirk.

Jorge smiled as he watched Reg jump up to the sidewalk from the bar entrance and head for his car. It was good to be back in business. This was the part of the job that Jorge really liked. He closed his eyes for a second and relived Julie's warm body across his lap then, grinning, he eased away from the curb and into traffic a few cars behind Reg.

Reg pulled into the apartment lot and strode across the lawn to the front door. Jorge followed.

"Yes?" Karen answered the buzzer.

"Karen, it's Reg. Can I come up and see you? I've got some great news."

"I don't need your news, Reg." She answered, but didn't hang up.

"You'd be surprised. I could help you out of your jackpot... job and all." He waited until finally she relented and the door unlocked. Reg hung up and grabbed the handle at the same time as Jorge grabbed Reg.

"Hello, Devers."

"J- Jorge!"

"Yes. In the flesh. Are we visiting someone?"

"Uh- no- aaah!" The pain in his arm shocked him, and he felt the sweat run quickly down his sides.

"Don't lie, Reggie. I saw the number and heard the name. Let's go." They rode silently in the elevator to Karen's floor.

She stepped back with a tiny shriek as Jorge shoved Reg into her apartment and slammed the door, locking it.

"Reg what the hell is going on?"

"I didn't mean this, Karen, so help me."

"Hi, Karen. I'm Jorge. Reg's friend." He sauntered into the room, parting them like the Red Sea.

"What do you want, Jorge, I've paid Bernie and we have an arrangement."

"Well now, Reg, that's not entirely true is it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"A little birdie told Bernie that you and your wife were skipping out, but I can see that was wrong."

"Damn right!"

"You and this little lady were gonna take a lam."

Karen made a noise. "What?"

"Are you Reg's friend, Karen?" He grinned and wagged a finger at Reg. "What would Julie say? Oh, I forgot, Julie won't be saying anything."

Reg's stomach flipped as he watched the leer on Jorge's face. "Wha- what do you mean she won't...?"

"Julie didn't have the right answers, Reg."

Reg's face went stark white. "You didn't- you- you...?"

"Oh yes, I did. Julie is dead to the world on that lovely big sofa of yours."

"Devers you get this maniac out of my apartment!" Karen was backing slowly toward the hall table. Jorge just kept grinning and moving on Karen.

"Jorge don't. leave her out of this. She doesn't even know what we're talking about." He felt nauseous and his head grew light.

"Why don't I just ask her." Jorge reached into his pocket and took out a nasty looking switch-blade.

Desperate to do something, Reg dove at Jorge and knocked him off balance toward the sofa. The knife came around in a vicious arc and caught him just below the throat. Reg gurgled and clutched at his neck, sliding to the hardwood floor. Before Jorge could regain his balance, Karen leapt forward and creamed him on the side of the head with a cut glass bud vase, knocking him into the leg of a side chair.

She dropped the vase and knelt down beside Reg who was glassy-eyed and making guttural sounds from the slash below his throat. Blood was running everywhere and she hurried back to the phone and called 911.

Jorge began to moan and was making signs of coming to, and Karen began to panic. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't stay there in case he saw her again and she wasn't going to hit him again. She made a choice and called the number she'd had sitting by her telephone for some time.

"C.W. Investigative Services."

"Mr. Wallace?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"Karen Winsett. I really need your help."

●○●○●○●○●

For the second time since I'd known him, Rory turned his bar over to an assistant and steered me into the storage room behind the bar.

"What did I tell you?" No impressions this time, just anger and concern.

"I did it on purpose, Rory. I asked the woman to call if she ever whacked somebody on the head."

His face darkened at my sarcasm, and he sat back on the liquor crate and folded his arms, "What about her?"

"Her is Karen," she snapped in annoyance.

"Sorry. So what about, Karen?"

"What about her? The guy was one of Bernie's mob. Reg Devers is probably dead right now in her apartment. She heard him tell Reg that he'd offed his wife too."

"I don't understand why you can't call the cops."

"Rory, you know darn well the minute it got out that she was involved, Bernie would have another of his goons on her trail. She knows he was one of Bernie's. Can't you put your ear out and see what's happening?"

"I am here in person you know. May I be part of this discussion?"

"Sure. What's your plan?" Rory sighed and waited.

"I don't have one."

Rory hopped down from the crate. "You'd be wise to give Nora a call; you're gonna need a good lawyer. You're more than a connection, Wallace. You're one hunted sorry son-of-a-bitch now."

I gave him a bleak look, showing all my inexperience and ineptness in the situation. "She was never enthralled with my chosen career. Nora will absolutely kill me."

"Better the killer you love, boyo."

"Who's Nora?" Karen asked.

"My wife."

"You're married?"

Rory threw up his hands and left the room.

I followed him out and made nice, promising to pay off my bar chits if he would help out. He gave me his Clint Eastwood scowl. I knew he'd help. Karen stayed in the back room while I headed for my apartment. I said I would be back later that night. I raced home and found the apartment empty again; not even a note.

The light on the answering machine was flashing and I pressed the button, hearing another of Nora's embarrassed apologies. The client she had been working with the past month or so, the one whom all her time was devoted to, had been arrested and was slated for extradition if she couldn't get a stay until he'd finished with the legal matters here.

I thought this was the longest string of words I'd heard from her in weeks and I played it again just to enjoy the sound of her voice. I crawled onto the bed, only this time it was through fear and I wasn't alone; my head was filled with images of all the people involved in my simple domestic case - particularly one who died so violently.

The one I never really got to speak to. When the phone rang I nearly exploded with fright. It was Rory and he needed to see me right away.

"There was no trace, not a whisper of trouble, nothing." Rory poured two mugs of coffee and set them on the table in front of Karen and me. "Bernie had his cleaners go in and do just that—clean. I imagine they did the same with his wife. So as far as anyone will know, the Devers just disappeared." I looked bleakly at Karen who was testing her coffee, clutching the mug in two nervous hands.

"But I called 911." She said.

"Well somehow Bernie's team beat them there."

"How would he even know?"

"Bernie's mug wasn't dead, Wallace, just knocked out."

"So that leaves Karen." I said.

"Afraid so."

"Do you think he'll go after Jarmon Wyatt now that Reg is- is gone?"

"Jarmon Wyatt has a private room in St. Wilma's. He's got a lot of bothersome injuries and a concussion, apparently from a massive drinking bout. I don't think you'll have to worry about him playin' around for quite a while." Rory snorted.

"That still leaves Cynthia," I suggested.

"Threats come before debts, Christopher. By now Bernie is scouring the city for you, my dear." He looked at Karen with concern.

It had taken a lot of pleading, cajoling and some healthy belts from Rory's private stock to get Karen to listen to what we were telling her was gospel, and if she wanted to live to argue another day, she'd better heed our warning.

The last time I remembered being here in a similar situation was with Nora before we married. This was all too similar. When we discussed the goings-on at the Dunbar, Karen sat in sullen silence.

"I think we could all do with something a little stronger, eh?" Rory broke the seal on an expensive looking bottle and splashed a little of its dark contents into each of our mugs. "Here's to ahh... whatever." He clinked our mugs and we tossed back the molten liquid.

When my cell phone rang, we all jumped and I swore aloud. I answered cautiously, not that that would protect me, it was just instinctive. It was Lawrence Bravo. He wanted a meeting. How did he get this number? Cynthia?

"Why go, you aren't on the case any more?"

I looked at Karen pointedly. "What do you call this?"

"Okay, okay." Rory conceded. "But you don't have to get any deeper."

"Maybe it's something we should know though."

"You'll do what you want anyway." Rory waved me away.