"You're cleaning your desk on a Friday night? That's devotion." "Beck's new dictum – no files or papers on any of the surfaces overnight. Place looks like a showroom. I'm mostly playing catch-up, taking care of stuff I've let slide. I'll probably work tomorrow, too."

"The guy's a workaholic," she said to me as an aside and then turned back to him. "Kinsey's a PI... a pri-vate de-tec-tive," she said, separating each syllable for emphasis. She turned to me. "You have a business card on you?"

"Let me look," I said. I fumbled in my shoulder bag until I found my wallet, where I kept a stash of cards. Reba had her hand out so I passed one to her and she handed it on to Marty, who studied it, pretending it mattered when he couldn't have cared less.

He tucked it in his shirt pocket. "Guess I better watch my backside." Reba smiled. "That is so so true. You have no idea." He shook a cigarette from the pack, placing it directly between his lips. Smoking didn't seem like a good idea as he was already wheezing. Reba said, "Allow me," as she picked up her Dunhill, flicked it, and offered him a light. "Such service."

"You bet. Tit for tat," she said. She propped her chin on one hand. "Aren't you curious what she's doing here?"

Marty looked from Reba to me. "A drug bust?"

"Don't be dumb," she said, giving him a smack on the arm. She leaned forward flirtatiously and murmured, "She's part of a task force – federal and local dicks – looking into Beck's finances. All very hush-hush. Promise you won't tell." She put a finger to her lips and I could feel myself blanch. I couldn't believe she'd laid it out like that, without a word to me. Not that I'd have agreed. I checked his reaction.

His smile was tentative as he waited for the punch line. "No, seriously."

"Seriously," she said. I could see she enjoyed doling it out to him bit by bit.

"I don't get it."

"What's to get? I'm telling you the truth."

"Why tell me?"

"Fair warning. I like you. You're right in the line of fire."

He must have been one of those men who operated with his body thermostat cranked up into the red zone because his face now bore a sheen of perspiration. Without seeming to be aware of it, he took the flap of his tie and blotted the beads of sweat from his cheek. "What do you mean, I'm right in the line of fire? How do you figure that?"

"Well, A: You know what he's been up to, and B: Beck won't go down for this any more than he'd accept blame for the missing three hundred and fifty thou."

"I thought you volunteered."

"Stupnagel that I am, I made it easy for him. I'd like to think you're smarter than me, but maybe not."

"He can't do anything to me. I'm covered."