She typed something into a computer and pressed a button; a moment later a machine next to her desk vomited two plastic cards with their badges and ID on one side and an SFPD star on the other, plus the banner VISITING OFFICER. She gave them each a clip that allowed them to fasten the cards to their lapels. “Wear ’em when you’re in any police station or questioning anybody in this city.” She handed them a parking pass for their car. “That may keep you from getting a ticket. On the other hand, it may get your car vandalized.”

“Thanks very much.”

“Don’t mention it.” She had never once looked at them.

“We could be Bonnie and Clyde, and she wouldn’t know the difference,” Croft said as the door closed behind them.

—

BILLY BURNETT ARRIVED on Green Street and found a parking place, then he went and had a look at Barbara Eagle’s apartment building. Elegant. As he watched, a white Bentley Mulsanne drove up to the entrance. The driver popped the trunk lid, then got out. Billy made him to be six-five and close to three hundred pounds, but his waist was slim. A blunt instrument. A doorman appeared with a small bag and a train case and set them in the trunk. He pressed a button, and the trunk lid closed itself.

Barbara Eagle appeared, dressed in slacks and a sweater set, an impressive double string of pearls around her neck, and got into the waiting car. Blunt Instrument got in and drove away.

Billy ran the few steps back to his car, got it started, and followed. As he drove down the street, a car containing the two L.A. detectives passed, going the other way.

—

MORALES AND CROFT pulled up to the entrance to the building and got out. They showed their new guest IDs to the doorman. “We’d like to see Mrs. Charles Grosvenor,” Morales said.

“You just missed her,” the doorman said. “She’s headed to Napa for a few days.”

“What’s the address?”

“Beats me.”

“What’s she driving?” Croft asked.

“She’s being driven,” the doorman replied, “in a white Bentley. A big one.” He pointed down the street.

The two detectives looked and saw the car turning a corner. They dived back into their car and followed. As they turned the corner they could see the Bentley two blocks ahead.

“At least it’s easy to spot,” Morales said.

“Will this thing go any faster?” Croft asked.

Morales stomped on the accelerator. Hardly anything happened.

“Shit,” Croft said, “we didn’t check out of the hotel. What are we going to do for clothes?”

“I always keep a clean shirt and socks and some paper boxer shorts in my briefcase, just in case,” Morales said. “Toothbrush and razor, too.”

“Paper boxer shorts?”

“You just throw ’em away when you’re done with ’em.”

“Sometimes I hate your guts, you know that?”

—