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“Sure, sure. How about dinner tonight? Maybe down on Olvera Street . I know a Mexican spot where you can get the best enchiladas.”

“From that same Killarney factory back in New Jersey that makes the Chinese fortune cookies?”

“I wouldn’t wonder.”

“I don’t know, Greg. I’ve got – “

“I don’t blame you for being mad. You ought to get a good attorney and sue.”

“That’s an idea.” Her eyes crinkled up. “How about a conference with one at seven o’clock?”

7

As Zeke came up the path, Ingrid opened the door. In the next yard, Mrs. Macdougall, who was watering her roses, had her ears hung out over the myrtle hedge. The neigh­bors all agreed that her instinct for sensing a development was flawless.

Ingrid called, “Hello, Mrs. Macdougall. Beautiful day.” Mrs. Macdougall nodded. Her beady little eyes tracked Zeke like those of an old hound dog that waits to flush out a quarry. Her face had hardened with the years into one expression that she proudly and fiercely maintained.

Taking stock of the situation, Zeke said nothing, nor did Ingrid until she closed the door behind him. “Really, that old snoop,” Ingrid said, and then she quit to stare appraisingly at him. Here she had a living, breathing FBI agent on the hoof, a hero on a par with Ricky Nelson and Chubby Checkers.

“I’m Zeke Kelso.”

“I know. My sister called me. Isn’t she the most? Didn’t you like her an awful lot? I like sisters. Brothers are all right but you can’t talk to them, about serious things, I mean.” She was chattering, she knew, but when she was flustered she just did.

“Your sister said – “

“She told me. He’s back in my bedroom. I didn’t know whether to wake him up or not before you got here. He didn’t get in until five this morning. He came in about one, sis said, but he got mad when she took the duck away from him, and went out and tied one on, I think.”

He nodded absently. By now he had photographed the living room in his mind. He walked to the only window and looked out past an apricot tree to a low, white, stucco house across the street. It was reached from the sidewalk by a curving flagstone walk that ran between tree roses. To the right of the house was a driveway that led to a garage at the rear of the lot.

Zeke turned back to her. “I’m sorry to get you out of school.”

“I’m not. That school does everything except put numbers on our backs. It’s awful.” She led the way through the spot­less living room. “But then I don’t think it’s going to be there much longer with me in the chemistry lab.”

He shook his head. “Take it from an old veteran. They never blow up or burn down.”

She laughed; she liked him immensely. Patti had said she would. Patti had said, “He’s awfully nice. So behave your­self and don’t embarrass him.” As if she had ever em­barrassed a man! Except maybe the geometry teacher who was such a doll and so shy. She and the other girls had gotten together during the noon break and decided they’d take turns winking at him that afternoon, and the poor man had almost fled the classroom.

As they passed the television, she said, “Do you look at Dr. Kildare? I think he’s a living doll. My pulse must be going 150 a minute when I watch him. I get these crushes on people I don’t know and never will. Axe you married?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. You don’t look the type. Rosa and I were talking yesterday about the biological urge – we’re study­ing family relationships – and we decided – “

“Couldn’t you bring the cat out here?”

“No, come on. If you want to do anything to him, you’d better do it while he’s sleepy.”

They passed through a dining room with unmatched pieces of furniture, accumulated at various stages as the Randall family economy climbed from one plateau to another. She continued, “Do you really think D.C. can help you? Golly, I hope so. All morning I’ve been thinking what if I was that woman, alone with those two horrible men ready to kill her, and wondering this very minute if anybody had found the watch.”

Before he could answer, she added, “Will D.C. get a medal? Mike says he will. Mike’s my brother. He’s only twelve and I’ve got to be a good influence on him. Mother say it means so much to a man later on if he has the right kind of woman around him when he’s growing up.”

She led the way into a small room that looked like a zoo. Stuffed animals, some so big and real that Zeke felt he should keep an eye on them, stared at him from the floor, the bed, and a shelf that ran around two walls. In the dead center of a fluffy, white bedspread stretched D.C., look­ing like a long black leopard. He was groaning and his legs and paws were twitching. “He’s chasing something in his sleep,” Ingrid said.

“Holy Toledo !” Zeke exclaimed. “That is a cat?” He was the most formidable feline Zeke had ever beheld.

Ingrid crossed to the window where she closed the drapes. “What’re you doing?” Zeke asked, forgetting all about D.C.