She turned the lamp to a low setting—that was one of Coral Court’s trademarks, although the ceiling mirrors proved to be a rumor, at least in 49-A and 50-A—and the room fell into a kind of dusk. She glided off the bed and slowly stripped off the bra—her breasts full and high and beautifully shaped—then turned her back to me and slid off the panties, revealing a dimpled bounteous ass as smooth as a marble statue. She turned to reveal a plush dark pubic bush and kicked off the heels and climbed back onto the bed and onto me. She slipped a hand inside the pajama trousers’ fly and fished me out and worked me to attention.

She was about to mount me when I took her by the arms and said no.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I have a rubber.” She revealed the coil in her left palm; hadn’t seen that. She was good. Or shall we say, practiced.

“No,” I said. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“You look like you’re in the mood!”

“No. No offense, but…no. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?”

“Call me old-fashioned, but I draw the line at murder.”

“I said you probably wouldn’t have to!” She huffed a sigh and scrambled off the bed. She got into the panties and bra in an irritated, unsexy way, stepped into her shoes, and stalked to the door, where she stopped and, clearly frustrated, looked at me as I reached to switch off the lamp.

“Jesus,” she said as she went out. “Doesn’t anybody wanna fuck me tonight?”

CHAPTER SIX

This time the knock at the door woke me at once. Insistent, the pounding was accompanied by Steve’s husky voice saying, “Nate! Are you up? Nate!”

The urgency put a frown on my face and the nine mil in my hand. But by the time I was on my feet, the sunlight peeking through the Venetian blinds said it was morning. I went over where the ruckus was, put the gun behind my back in one hand, and edged the door open a ways with the other.

Steve looked sweaty and upset, in desperate need of a shave, his dull blue eyes wide; he was in his houndstooth sport coat, brown trousers and bare feet. “Oh, good, you’re awake. I just don’t wanna leave my things unattended.”

He apparently meant the footlocker and suitcase, though he’d never admitted they were full of money.

“Okay,” I said. “You want me to watch ’em while you, uh… what?”

“Come see me when you’re dressed,” Steve said hurriedly, and was gone.

Everything’s a crisis with this guy, I thought, except things that should be.

I’d just closed the door when I heard Sandy’s voice and for a moment thought I was imagining it. Or worse, that I’d relented in the night and let her back in. Then I realized it was coming from outside, and went over and peered between blinds at the drive curving around past the small rear parking lot bordered by pin oaks.