I got out to look around. A narrow sidewalk ran along the back of the buildings that fronted Third and was divided from the parking lot by a tall wire fence. A sagging metal gate with a length of rusted chain and a padlock held it shut. Rudy Sancerre had a lot of little plants on shelves around his back door. Succulents with fat leaves splitting open, parched ferns. A gnarled rubber plant in a pot arched by the door. I walked around to the front of the building and knocked on the door. While I waited, I examined the photos in the window of the other studio. A decal of crossed American and Cuban flags was pasted on the window. No one answered, so I went back to the parking lot.

Lupe had gotten out of the car and was dancing by herself, doing a funky cha-cha to the cowboy music. I hoped nobody from the bar saw her; I didn’t want the parking lot to fill up with cowboys.

“¡Que buena la vida! Los Bukis, my favorite band. It’s great to be alive,” sang Lupe, dancing over to me.

“Yeah, I vote we stay that way. “What had I expected to find here in the middle of the night?

The song ended and another began. “Ay, Los Caminantes me matan,” said Lupe, swaying to the music. “This is great, but why are we here?”

I whispered that I had learned of Rudy Sancerre when I found one of Cathy Vega’s photos.

“Then we should look around,” Lupe said.

I snapped my fingers. “Great idea. Oh damn, I left my X-ray specs in my other purse. Let’s get out of here.” I would do this in a more conventional way: I would call Rudy Sancerre and set up an appointment.

“We could look through that window,” Lupe said, pointing to one next to the door. “Come on, I’ll help you up so you can climb over.” She positioned herself near the fence, putting her hands together to give me a leg up.

“Are you out of your mind? Why don’t you climb over the fence?”

“I have to be careful. I have a kid to take care of. Maybe you’re the only one they’re following.”

“He. Not they. There’s only one person following me.”

“You are such a whiner. Maybe you’re afraid.”

The next thing I knew, I was halfway up the fence and about to put one leg over the top when I heard a car pull into the alley. I let go of the top of the fence, a piece of wire cutting my left hand, and dropped to the ground just as the car pulled into the space in front of Rudy Sancerre’s door.