Riggens was wearing a baggy beachcomber's shirt with the tail out, but you could still make out the butt of his piece riding high on his right hip. He reached up under the shirt and came out with a Sig 9-mil and said, "Get your ass against the goddamned wall."

I said, "Come on."

Mark Thurman came in off the balcony and pushed the gun down. "Jesus Christ, Floyd, take it easy. He doesn't know what this is about."

"He keeps dicking with me, he won't make it long enough to find out."

I said, "Let me guess. You guys work for Ed McMahon and you've come to tell me that I've won the Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes for a million bucks."

Riggens tried to lift his gun but Thurman kept the pressure on. Riggens's face went red to match his eyes and the veins swelled in his forehead, but Thurman was a lot stronger, and sober, so it wasn't much of a problem. I wondered if Riggens acted like this on the street, and if he did, how long he had been getting away with it.

Stuff like this will get you killed. Thurman said, "Stop it, Floyd. That's not why we're here."

Riggens fought it a little longer, then gave it up, and when he did Thurman let go. Riggens put the Sig away and made a big deal with the hand moves and the body language to let everyone know he was disgusted. "You want to do it, then do it, and let's get out of here. This asshole says she wasn't even here." He went to the couch and sat down. Petulant.

Thurman sort of shook his head, like he couldn't figure Riggens out, like he had tried for a long time and was maybe getting tired of trying. He turned back to me. "My name is Mark Thurman. This is my partner, Floyd Riggens. We know she was up here because Floyd followed her up."

I glanced at Floyd again. He was staring at the Pinocchio dock. "Maybe Floyd got confused. There's an insurance office across the hall. Maybe she went there."

Floyd said, "Okay, she wasn't here. We're not here, either, you want to play it that way. You fell asleep and you're dreaming all this." He got up and went to the clock for a closer look "Hurry up, Mark. I don't wanna spend the day." Like a little kid.

Thurman looked nervous, but maybe he was just uncomfortable. His partner was looking bad and that made him look bad. He said, "We called in about you and the word is that you're a straight shooter, so I thought we should talk."

"Okay."

"Jennifer and I are having some trouble."

"You mean, this isn't official police business?"

Riggens went back to the couch and sat down. "It could be, you want. We could have information that you been up to something. We could even find a snitch to back it up. That would look real good for your license."