As I came out of the hotel onto the walkway that curled through a garden of palm trees and incongruous Australian pines, I saw Angie sitting on the chaise, her hand over her eyes to block the sun, looking up at a young guy in an orange Speedo so small that comparing it to a loincloth would probably be an insult to loincloths.

Another guy in a blue Speedo sat on the other side of the pool watching the two of them, and I could tell by the smile on his face that Orange Speedo was his pal.

Orange Speedo held a half-full bottle of Corona by his shiny hip, a lime floating in the foam, and as I approached, I heard him say, “You can be friendly, can’t you?”

“I can be friendly,” Angie said. “I’m just not in the mood right now.”

“Well, change your mood. You’re in the land of fun ’n’ sun, darlin’.”

Darlin’. Big mistake.

Angie shifted in her chaise, placed the case file on the ground by the chair. “The land of fun ’n’ sun?”

“Yeah!” The guy took a swig of the Corona. “Hey, you should be wearing your sunglasses.”

“Why’s that?”

“Protect those pretty eyes of yours.”

“You like my eyes,” she said in a tone I’d heard before. Run, I wanted to scream to the guy. Run, run, run.

He rested the beer on his hip. “Yeah. They’re feline.”

“Feline?”

“Like a cat’s,” he said and leaned over her.

“You like cats?”

“Love ’em.” He smiled.

“Then you should probably go to a pet store and buy one,” she said. “Because I get the feeling that’s the only pussy you’re going to get tonight.” She picked up the case file and opened it on her lap. “Know what I mean?”

I stepped off the path onto the pool patio as Orange Speedo took a step back and cocked his head and his hand tightened around the Corona bottle neck until his knuckles grew red.

“Hard to come up with a comeback to that one, ain’t it?” I smiled brightly.

“Hey, partner!” Angie said. “You braved the sun to join me. I’m touched. And you’re even wearing shorts.”

“Crack the case yet?” I squatted by her chaise.

“Nope. But I’m close. I can feel it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay. You’re right.” She stuck her tongue out at me.

“You know…”

I looked up. It was Orange Speedo and he was shaking in rage, pointing his finger at Angie.

“You’re still here?” I said.

“You know,” he repeated.

“Yes?” Angie said.

His pectorals pulsed and rippled and he held the beer bottle up by his shoulder. “If you weren’t a woman, I’d—”

“Be in surgery about now,” I said. “Even as it is, you’re pushing it.”

Angie pushed herself up on the chaise and looked at him.