“What you should be aware of, Miss Sobel, is that my proposal to Dr. Reed is not only personal, it’s date sensitive. He’s not going to appreciate your making my life difficult. All I need is twenty minutes of his time, so you can either work me in tomorrow or he’s going to know how uncooperative you’ve been.”

“There’s no reason to take that tone.”

“Apparently there is, given your attitude.”

“If you’ll give me your name and number, I’ll check with Dr. Reed and get back to you.”

“How about you figure it out right now or I’ll come over there myself and tell him what’s going on.”

Silence. “Just one moment.”

She put him on hold. He suspected she was giving herself a little breathing room to get her temper under control. She clicked back in. “One o’clock.”

He said, “Thank you,” but she’d hung up on him by then.

•   •   •

Tuesday morning, he cruised by his office, circling the block once. He spotted his landlady’s car parked in the adjacent lot and continued on his way. He drove down to the beach, following Cabana Boulevard as far as the bird refuge. He had ways to make good use of his time. Before he got out of the car, he adjusted his scarf to keep the chill off his neck. He opened his trunk and unlocked the briefcase where he kept his Glock, which he slid into the pocket of his sport coat. He extracted his gun-cleaning kit from behind the boxes of books and old files that he was gradually moving from his office to his garage at home. In the event his landlady served an eviction notice, he’d be able to clear the premises in short order.

He carried the kit and yesterday’s newspaper to a picnic table, where he spread the first section across the crude wood surface. He set out a tin of CLP, his cleaning rags, Q-tips, a barrel brush, a cleaning rod, and an old toothbrush and then removed the Smith & Wesson Escort from his shoulder holster and Glock 17 from his coat pocket.