When I realized the public impression I was creating, I brought myself under control. The end of active rage left me exhausted. Listlessly I watched Dick emerge from the diner, shut off the alarm to his Mercedes convertible, and spin down the road with a great roar from his exhaust. I didn’t even care enough to hope a blue-and-white stopped him. At least, not enough to hope very hard.

By and by I crossed the street again and returned to the diner. The place had emptied out; the waitresses were clustered at a table, drinking coffee and smoking.

Barbara sprang up when she saw me. “You okay, hon?”

“Oh, yeah. I just need to wash my face and pull myself together. Sorry to treat you to a nursery-school display.”

She grinned wickedly. “Oh, I don’t know, Vic. You’ve given us more action in five days than we usually see all year. Livens up the place and gives us something besides our bad backs to talk about.”

I patted her shoulder and went to the tiny bathroom in the rear, along the corridor where Marge had dropped the grease on Friday. That was another good turn I’d done them: the hall was cleaner than I’d ever seen it.

I bathed my face in cold water for several minutes. It was no substitute for a nap, but it would have to get me through the day. I put on lipstick under the flickering neon light. Its pallid glow emphasized the planes of my face, digging harsh grooves into it. It was a foreshadowing of what I might look like in great age. I grimaced at my reflection, emphasizing its grotesque lines.

“You look dressed for success to me, my girl.” I saluted my image.

I suddenly remembered the arrangements I’d made to have a security system installed this morning. I used the restaurant pay phone to call Mr. Contreras; he would be home all morning and would be glad to let the workmen in. He sounded subdued, though.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I’ll come back home and wait if it’s going to be a hassle for you.”

“Oh, no, doll, nothing like that,” he assured me hastily. “I guess I’m worrying about going to see Eddie.”

“I see.” I rubbed my eyes. “I’m not going to push it down your throat. You should stay home if the idea makes you that unhappy.”

“But you’re going anyway?”

“Yeah. I really need to talk to him.”

He didn’t say anything after that, except that he’d be on the lookout for the workmen, and hung up.

Barbara brought me a cup of fresh coffee to take with me. “Drinking something hot will calm you down, hon.”