Perchance to Dream

    "Water rights," he said thoughtfully. "It's a Western term. East of the Mississippi they have riparian rights. Means anyone on the shore of a river, say, has limitless rights to the water in the river. West of the Mississippi, it being sorta dry out here, they have water rights in which people abutting a river have discrete rights, defined by how much of the land they own abuts."

    "And you can sell those rights?"

    "Buy or sell," Isaacson said. He had a thin gray moustache and slick silver hair and a strong nose. "Not riparian rights, they go with the land. But water rights, sure, they can be bought and sold."

    "Anything illegal about it?"

    "No more than any other transaction. Obviously there can be no intent to defraud, the usual rules apply. But there's nothing special about water rights."

    "And if I bought up all the water rights to some river somewhere, then I could do whatever I wanted with the water?"

    "Yep."

    "Would the government buy water rights?"

    "Sure, been doing it all over the West."

    "Would they employ a private company to do it for them?"

    "Marlowe, how the hell would I know? Far as I can tell, the government will do about anything at all."

    I was silent.

    "Not to be a kvetch, Marlowe, but sitting here watching you think isn't earning me any money. Explaining water rights to you hasn't earned me a hell of a lot either."

    "I owe you," I said.

    "I know you do," Isaacson said. "But you don't have anything to pay with. Maybe someday, I lose a client, I'll get it back."

    I got up without comment and left. When I got back to my office the pasty-faced blond guy that walked behind Eddie Mars was sitting in the waiting room with his feet stretched out in front of him and his hat tilted forward over his face. I walked past him without comment and unlocked my inner office and opened the window to let the hot air in and sat behind my desk. In a minute he ambled in, tougher than two scorpions.

    "Eddie wants you to come over to the club," he said. His lips barely moved when he spoke and he had to tilt his head back to see out from under his hat brim.

    "So what," I said.

    "It's about the Sternwood cookie," Blondie said.

    "Which one?"

    "Vivian. Eddie says you should come over. She's there. Somebody laid some knuckles on her."

    "Who?"

    "Eddie didn't say. Just said I should bring you."

    "I'll bring myself," I said.

    Blondie shook his head. "Eddie said I should bring you."

    I stood up. "You want to bring me, you can start now. You'll think you walked into a propeller."

    "Tough today," Blondie said.

    "Tough, quick, and sick of almost everybody I've met this week."

    Blondie shrugged. "Eddie didn't say anything about dropping you. See you at the club."

    He turned around and walked out. I followed him a minute later and arrived at the Cypress Club ahead of him.

***

    It looked shabbier in daylight, like clubs always do. The threadbare spots that indirect lighting concealed looked sadly real with the sun shining on them. The places where the paint had peeled in the steady Pacific wind stood out in clear relief in the daylight. Things seemed to look better in the shadows.

    Mars was the exception. He looked just as good in daylight with a pearl-gray sport coat and a charcoal shirt with the collar points spilling out over the lapels. He was in the office with Vivian when I went in.

    She didn't look good. Her upper lip was puffy and one eye was nearly closed with the darkening rings of a classic shiner developing. What makeup she may have had was worn away and her hair was messy and she looked haggard and frightened and vulnerable. And beautiful.

    "What happened?" I said.

    She looked at Eddie and he answered for her.

    "She got a call from Bonsentir's clinic, told her Carmen was back and she should come up. She went instead of calling me. Up along Mulholland a couple of sluggers ran her off the road, tossed her around a little, and told her to put a leash on you."

    "Or else?"

    Mars nodded. His face was perfectly calm but his eyes glittered.

    "Leave it alone, Marlowe," Vivian said in a choked voice. "Leave it alone, get the hell out of our lives and let us have some peace."

    "And what?" I said. "And let Carmen go wherever Bonsentir sends her and you do whatever two thugs tell you to do? That's peace?"

    Vivian looked at Eddie and back at me.

    Mars said, "He's right, sugar," in a voice so flat and cold it didn't sound human.

    She stared at him for a moment and at me for a moment and began to cry. "Look at me," she said, "look at me." And she cried harder, but crying hurt her so she got it under control. Mars didn't say anything to her, but walked across the room and put an arm around her. She stood rigid.

    "I called you," she said to me, fighting to keep her voice steady. "You weren't there. So I went and when this happened I came to Eddie."

    "No explanations necessary," I said.

    Mars was looking at me. I don't think he heard any of what was being said. The glitter in his eyes was like ice.

    "What are we going to do about this, soldier?"

    "Something," I said. "We in this together now?"