The car was now aimed in the wrong direction, toward where they had come from. The Galaxie slowly drove toward them.

“You okay, Sheryl Ann?” Margaret asked.

“I think so,” Sheryl Ann said, patting her chin, which was bleeding.

“That’s a nasty gash,” Margaret said. She removed a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed her friend’s cut.

Goode struggled to kick her car back to life.

“Fuck!” she yelled.

The Galaxie began speeding up.

“Why are they even—” Sheryl Ann said. Her unfinished question made perfect sense to Margaret: Why were these thugs chasing them? Because they’d tried to get information about Powell? Because they’d lied about who they were? Because Margaret had stolen that document?

“The goddamn shifter’s jammed,” Goode said.

The Galaxie was now close enough that Margaret could see the furious faces of the young men.

Finally, Goode got the car in gear. She slowly moved forward, then began U-turning. The Galaxie hit the same ice patch Goode had and slid across the intersection, only to be suddenly T-boned by a Chevy. There was a horrific metal crunch. The two cars skidded to a stop as Goode’s car chugged away.

Dean Martin left the Compound for Los Angeles shortly after lunch; he had to catch a flight to Pebble Beach for the Bing Crosby pro-am golf tournament. About an hour after that, Charlie was downing yet another screwdriver and enjoying a cigarette on the front porch when Lawford’s red Ghia L6.4 screeched around the circular driveway and came to an abrupt stop at the front door. Lawford and several attractive young women spilled out of the Italian coupe like it was the world’s most glamorous clown car.

Lawford and his entourage swarmed past Charlie on a cloud of cigarette smoke and Arpège. “What are you doing out here by yourself, old sport?” Lawford said with a wink. “Join the party!”

He did. Within minutes, the young women, seemingly impervious to the brisk air, had stripped down to bathing suits, slinky one-pieces in a dizzying array of colors. Jacobs materialized with more cocktails. Sometime later they escaped the chill by migrating to the small gunite spa containing a Jacuzzi whirlpool, a new trend sweeping the estates of Southern California millionaires.