I wasn't so sure. Psychologically, the bonus put me in his debt and triggered another round of peeps from my conscience, which I'd thought to pacify with all the cleaning I'd done. I was right back in the thick of my debate. Should I tell Reba what was going on or should I not? More important, should I bring her father into the loop? His single admonition – to which I'd agreed – was to keep him informed of any backsliding on her part. This hadn't happened yet (as far as I knew), but if I told her about Beck and Onni, what would she do? She was going to crash and burn. And if I didn't tell her and she somehow got wind of it – which was not out of the question in a town this size- – much crashing and burning would ensue anyway. She'd begged me not to tell her father about Beck, but Reba wasn't the one who was paying my bills. Witness this check.

I tried to think of an overriding principle that might apply – some moral code that would guide my decision. I couldn't think of one. Then I wondered if I had morals or principles of any kind, and that made me feel worse.

The phone rang. I picked it up and said, "What." rather more rudely than I'd intended.

Cheney laughed. "You sound stressed."

"Well, I am. Do you have any idea the bind you've put me in?"

"I'm sorry. I know it's tough. Would it help if we talked?"

"What's to talk about? Betraying that poor girl? Giving her the news about his screwing around?"

"I told you he's a bad man."

"But isn't it just as bad to go after her like that?"

"You have any other suggestions? Because we're open to just about anything. God knows, we don't want to pull out the big guns unless we have to. The girl's freaky enough."

"That's for sure. I notice you're using the term 'we,' so I assume you've thrown in your lot with the IRS."

"This is a law-enforcement issue. I'm a cop."

"Well, I'm not."

"Would you at least have a chat with my IRS pal?"

"So he can pile his bullshit on top of yours? That's a happy proposition. I feel like I'm going under as it is."

"Look, I'm just around the corner, you want to have lunch? He's on his way up from L.A. and said he'd join us. No hard sell. I promise. Just listen to him."

"To what end?"

"You know a place called Jay's? Hot pastrami sandwiches and the best martinis in town."

"I don't want to drink at lunch."

"Me neither, but we can eat together, yes?"

I said, "Hang on. There's someone at my door. I'm going to put you on hold. I'll be back in a second."

"Good deal. I'll wait."