Larry Bickle’s hand was on his gun. What was he going to do? Shoot her? She said, “I’ve already called the police.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Larry Bickle said. He said some other things.

“You called who?” Edgar Lowes said.

“They’ll be here in about ten minutes,” Lindsey said. “If I were you, I’d leave right now. Just go.”

“What is that bitch saying?” Larry Bickle said unhappily. He was really quite drunk. His hand was still on his gun.

She took out her own gun, a Beretta. She pointed it in the direction of Bickle and Lowes. “Put your gun belts on the ground and take off your uniforms. Leave your keys and your ID cards. You, too, whoever you are. Hand over your IDs and I won’t write this up.”

“You’ve got little cats on your gun,” Edgar Lowes said.

“Hello Kitty stickers,” she said. “I count coup.” Although she’d only ever shot one person.

The men took off their clothes, but seemed to forget the paper hats. Edgar Lowes had a long purple scar down his chest. He saw Lindsey looking. “Triple bypass. I need this job. Health insurance.”

“Too bad,” Lindsey said. She followed them out into the parking lot. The third man didn’t seem to care that he was naked. He didn’t even have his hands cupped around his balls, the way Bickle and Lowes did. He said to Lindsey, “They’ve done this a couple of times, ma’am. Heard about it from a friend. Tonight was my birthday party.”

Then: “That’s my digital camera.”

“Happy birthday. Thanks for the camera, Mr.”—she checked his ID—“Mr. Junro. You keep your mouth shut about this and, like I said, I won’t press charges. Say thank you if you agree.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Junro said.

“I’m still not giving your camera back,” Lindsey said.

“That’s okay,” Mr. Junro said. “That’s fine.”

She watched the three men get into their cars and drive away. Then she went back into the warehouse and folded up the uniforms, emptied the guns, cleaned up the sleepers, used the dolly to get the sleepers back to their boxes. There was a bottle of cognac on the card table that had probably not belonged to either Bickle or Lowes, and plenty of beer. She drank steadily. A song came to her, and she sang it. Tall and tan and young and drunken and. She knew she was getting the words wrong. A moonlit pyre. Like a bird on fire. I have tried in my way to be you.

It was almost five a.m. Not much point in going home. The floor came up at her in waves, and she would have liked to lie down on it.