“Forget it. Tomorrow that paper will be on the bottom of the birdcage. But I’m still under subpoena. If I don’t leave the country soon, they may take my passport. It’s happened to others.”

“Jerrold told us his passport was revoked after he got to France.”

Max nodded sadly. “Simon and Leah have to stay in Mexico for the same reason. Well, Simon does, and Leah will never leave him.” In the distance a siren sounded. “The FBI are around here for sure. You better go, Roxanne, now before someone sees that smart little car of yours in the driveway and takes down the license plate. You still drive that sweet little MG T?”

“I do.”

“You were a pretty reckless driver, as I recall. Didn’t you roll the Packard down a ravine one night?”

“I’m much more responsible now. That was a long time ago.”

“Yes.” He smiled. “A long time ago. We had some good times then, didn’t we? You know, you remind me so much of Julia. You have her mannerisms. You’re wearing her cologne.”

“Panache.”

“Ah, yes.”

“You’ll give Marian my love, won’t you?”

“Sure.” He waved the bottle of Scotch at me. “Go on now, Roxanne. Thanks for coming.”

I picked up my shoes, though I didn’t put them on. I said goodbye and left him there, and when I got to the gate, I heard a splash, and I turned to see that Max had waded into the pool, fully clothed, and was standing there in the shallow end making patterns in the water with his hands.

Chapter Six

I drove away from Carolwood and up the narrow leafy roads toward the canyons. Between the anguish of seeing Max Leslie and the memory of Irv Rakoff pressed up against my butt, I hated the thought of delivering scripts. I went instead to Irene’s ultramodern glass-and-steel house in Benedict Canyon, where I didn’t even have to knock, I could just walk in and say, “I’m here!”

She was pleased to see me. She’s always pleased to see me. Though she was many months pregnant, wearing a housecoat, and barefoot, with her hair in shiny metal curlers all over her head, Irene looked younger than her twenty-eight years. We chatted inconsequentially as I followed her through the cool, high-ceilinged rooms, the billiard room, the sunroom, and out to the circular flagstone patio, covered with a thick, thorny bougainvillea arbor. Off in the distance beyond the tennis court some men were using bulldozers and pickaxes and tearing up the lawn.

“Did you have a water main break or something?”