Lusk stopped and turned back to Keegan, his hands on his hips. “If you’re paying, it’s not a favor,” Lusk said. “It’s a job. You’d think a writer would have a better grasp of the English language.” Lusk went back to the truck and lifted down another stack of newspapers—The Daily Breeze—and lugged them to the back of his stall. HOTTEST DAY OF YEAR SINGES LA the paper’s banner headline read.

Keegan waited until Lusk was inside the booth again and spoke to him through the doorway. “Look, Kipper,” he said. “I need you to find me a gun. A Smith and Wesson Model Ten.”

Lusk pushed past him again. “That’s a revolver, right?”

Keegan followed him to the back of the truck. “Yeah, and it has to be a snub nose,” he said. “Not nickel, either. It’s gotta be blued. Original wooden grips. At least ten years old.”

Lusk looked both ways along Hill Street and then down along Fifth. He waited while an empty bus slowed to make the turn onto Hill. Its hydraulic brakes hissed, and then the engine rumbled as it pulled away. “Listen, Professor,” Lusk said when the bus was halfway down the block. “I can get you a real pretty Colt Python three-fifty-seven. Like new.” He was using his salesman voice now. “No papers, but a price you won’t believe.” He tapped Keegan’s chest with one gloved finger. “In your hand in twenty minutes. No questions asked.”

“No,” Keegan said. “You don’t understand.” He didn’t want to raise his voice, and that required him to slow down and focus, but he could feel his frustration mounting. “Listen to me, Kip,” he said. “I need a very particular gun. It’s gotta be a snub-nose Smith and Wesson. Just like the ones the LAPD jacks carry. And I need it today.”

Lusk looked at Keegan steadily. The morning slant of light glowed in his squinting brown eyes. “I know better than to ask why you’re so particular,” Lusk said. “That’s your business. But such fastidious demands can run into money.” He scratched the side of his head. “How much bank do I have to work with?” he said. “And I’m talking hard cash. Nobody moving guns is going to take a personal check or your solemn word as a gentleman.”

Keegan gazed across the park in the direction of the Biltmore and tried to do the math in his head. There were a few twenties—maybe a hundred bucks—in his desk that Mrs. Dodd wouldn’t know about. He could cash a couple of checks at the stores around town that knew him. “I think I can get maybe two or three hundred without drawing attention,” he said. “If it’s more than that, you’ll have to front me a few days. I swear I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You think or you can?”