“You still there?” Jolie asked. “Or did you sky on me again?”

“I’m here.”

“I was thinking I could come up to Cave Creek, bunk at your place. I’d like to see Lillian anyway, and it would be like old times, you and me and Greer talkin’ trash.”

“God, Jolie,” I said, almost whispering. “That would be great.” I glanced at Russell. He’d been through enough, without coming face-to-face with Sweetie. “Are you planning to bring the dog?” I put the question carefully, because I didn’t want Jolie to get mad and change her mind about the visit.

“Sweetie can stay with some friends of mine, out in the country. They’re always inviting him for play dates with their dogs.”

Play dates? Any breed smaller than a bull mastiff might end up as a snack.

“The sooner you can get here,” I said, “the better.”

“I should roll in sometime tomorrow afternoon. I’ll stop at Sunset Villa and then drive up from there.”

Russell broke wind again.

I lit another match, half-expecting a methane explosion, and wished I’d asked Greer to pick up industrial-strength air freshener as well as kibble.

“Sounds good,” I said, waving my free hand.

“We’re going to have company,” I told Russell, after Jolie and I hung up. I crouched to ruffle his ears gently. “All we gotta do is hold on, buddy. Things are bound to get better.”

Russell craned his almost nonexistent neck to lap at my cheek. I probably tasted of tears.

We communed for a while, the basset and me, and then I gave him a bath with paper towels and sink water. That done, I rounded up some extra blankets and made him a bed in the kitchen. Once Russell was settled, I stood on tiptoe to look out the window, peering down at the parking lot. There were still six squad cars, parked at urgent angles, and plenty of uniforms and suits moving in and out of the bar.

I saw Greer’s car pull in, splashed in the glow of a streetlight, come to a sleek stop next to a policeman.

I could just imagine how she was charming his regulation socks off. If she was still tearful, he wouldn’t have a chance against her.

Russell began to snore, and stunk up the place with another poot before I sneaked out and headed for the exit. I waited on the landing as the cop waved Greer in, following the car on foot.

She popped the trunk from inside, and Officer Friendly leaned into it, came up with a huge bag. She’d remembered the kibble, then.

Smiling, the cop carried the thing up the stairs, looking very young and very earnest, with Greer mincing along behind him in high heels, murmuring something appreciative and admiring.

The guy looked as though he’d just rescued a baby from a burning house.

Sucker, I thought, but kindly.