I tried to make the big eyes like Reba did when she was feigning innocence. "About you? Well, gosh now. She told me you screwed her brains out in the car the other night. She was going to give me all the nitty-gritty details about the size of your dick, but I begged off. No offense, but I don't find you nearly as fascinating as she does. Except for the current conversation. What are you fishing for?"

"Nothing. Maybe I misjudged you."

"Well, I doubt that, but so what? Sounds like you're the one in trouble and projecting it on us." I might have pushed the line too far because I wasn't that crazy about the look he turned on me.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're laying out all this bullshit and I don't have a clue what you want. You've peppered me with questions from the minute you sat down."

He was dead silent for about fifteen seconds – a long time in the middle of a conversation of this type. Then he said, "I believe she stole money from me when she was in the office that night."

"Ah. Got it. That's a serious accusation."

"Yes, it is."

"Why not turn the matter over to the cops?"

"I can't prove she did it."

I shook my head. "Doesn't sound right to me. I was with her when we toured the office and she never touched a thing. Me neither, for that matter. I hope you don't think I'm involved, because I swear I'm not."

"It's not you I'm worried about. It's her."

"You're worried?"

"I think she's in trouble. I'd hate to see her hurt."

"Why didn't you just say so up front?"

"You're right. I'm sorry. I went about this all wrong and I apologize. Truce?"

"We don't need a truce. I'm worried about her, too. She's back to smoking a pack a day and god knows what else. This morning, she was talking about booze and poker parlors. Scared the crap out of me."

"I didn't realize you'd seen her."

"Oh sure. I thought I mentioned that."

"You didn't, but that's good. I haven't heard a word from her since I got back. She's usually on the phone first thing, tugging at my sleeve. You know Reeb. She tends to cling."

"I'll say. Look, she talked about us having lunch tomorrow. Why don't I tell her to give you a call?"

He smiled tentatively, wanting to believe me. At the same time, I could sense his scrutiny, testing my comments for any false notes. Happily, since I'm a thoroughly accomplished liar, I could pass a polygraph, disavowing murder with blood still dripping from my fingers. He reached out and tapped my hand, something I'd seen him do with her. I wondered what the gesture meant, a sort of tag... you're it. "I hope I wasn't out of line. You're a good egg," he said.