"Pop" emerged from the walk-in freezer. A breath of winter wafted out. He was a big man in his sixties, with a benign face and mild eyes. "What can I get you?"

"How about the tri-tip to go."

He winked at me, smiling slightly, and prepared it without a word.

Sandwich in hand, I grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the cooler and paid at the front register. I returned to my car, where I dined in style, being careful not to spill salsa down the front of my uniform. The flowers, getting limper by the minute, filled the VW's interior with the smells of a funeral home.

I kept an eye on Bibianna's driveway for two hours, perfecting my surveillance Zen. In many P.I. firms, surveillance work is charged off at a higher rate than any other service offered because it's such a yawn. There were no signs of activity, no visitors, no lights coming on. It occurred to me if I intended to watch the place for long, I'd better contact the beat officer and let him know what was going on. Also, it might be smart to borrow another vehicle and maybe cook up some reason to be loitering in the vicinity. The postman came by on foot and picked up the letters waiting in Bibianna's box, replacing them with a handful of mail. I would have given a lot to see who was writing to her, but I didn't want to press my luck. Where was the woman? If her back hurt so bad, how come she was out all day? Maybe she was at the chiropractor's getting all her vertebrae lined up or her head replaced. At three I started up the car and headed back toward town.

When I arrived at the California Fidelity offices, I gave the bouquet to Darcy at the front desk. She had the good taste not to mention my little run-in with Titus. Her gaze rested briefly on my uniform. "You join the air force?"

"I just like to dress like this."

"Those shoes look like they'd be lethal in a kick-boxing contest," she remarked. "If you're here for Mary, she's got some clients with her, but you can probably mosey on back."