I was busy rolling my morning joint when the phone rang. Without thinking I reached out to touch someone.

“You fucking prick,” Boots’ voice hissed.

“What’s the matter, Boots?”

“It’s just like old times; I call, you don’t answer. What drug stupor have you been in now?”

What was left of my good mood evaporated. “None, Boots. I’ve been away working.” I grew sullen thinking about the taped message on her machine. “Alone.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing, forget it.”

“Am I supposed to forget that you ruined Fran’s marriage?”

“Whoa, Boots, wait a minute …”

“I’m not waiting for anything. I told you that if you did anything to hurt Fran I’d have nothing to do with you. And I won’t.”

The receiver crashed and for an instant I was flooded with angry rejoinders, but I just pushed the telephone away. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t told Simon anything, or that Fran’s ruined marriage had more to do with libido than me. My nasty remarks went the way of the day’s pleasure and I lit the joint; innocence had nothing over my guilt.

Gloria’s records had stopped burning a hole in my ceiling and became just another chore, so I moved to the living room and stretched out on the couch. I puffed at the dope and watched my two closest friends go up in smoke. I tried to push their faces outside of my head but just succeeded in creating more taunting versions.

I decided to call on Julius. At least I could find out if they got the fucking files. I debated wearing the gun. It was becoming a little too comfortable. Rudnow’s bleeding face flickered across my eyes and I decided to leave the gun home. Half out the door, I changed my mind. I pretended the house was under siege by Gloria’s assailant.

I rapped on Julie’s door and waited while he grumbled it open. He didn’t seem surprised or displeased to see me. I followed his back and thought about commenting on the darkness but let it pass. I wasn’t gonna look for trouble. Too much had already found me.

Julie led me into the living room and motioned toward the couch. He walked over to the windows and drew the shades up a quarter. I was reaching into my pockets looking for my Kools when he returned to the chair across from me. I didn’t have anything with me but the gun.

Julius pointed to the Camels on the end table. “Help yourself.” He sat down and nodded toward the shoulder holster as I leaned across the table to get the smokes. “You trying to be A1 Capone, slumlord? Now that you’ve added to your empire you think you got to shoot the tax collectors?”

“Nah. Just feels good. You heard about the thing with Lou?”

He looked at me balefully. “Hard not to with Charles strutting like a rooster. You still haven’t explained the gun. You here to hold me up?”

I lifted my palms. “No shit today, I can’t take it. I’ve had too much already.”

He raised his eyelids. “You find what you were looking for on your sojourn?”

“Some. I’m pretty sure that the kid who turned up dead broke into 290. He came up here with something out of his stepfather’s past and parlayed it with what he got in the building. The information was worth a brand new Lincoln.”

“What information?”

“Good question. I’m hoping the records that Dr. James reconstructed will tumble the specifics.”

“You working like a real shamus.”

I shrugged, “What I can’t figure is why Clifford did him.”

That got his eyes three-quarters of the way up. “You think Clifford killed him?”

“Yeah. First covered for him, then killed him, but I don’t have any proof.” The conversation was pushing Boots’ phone call further away and I could feel my interest returning.

Julius reached across the coffee table and tapped me on the holster. “If what you say is true, you best stay geared. You’re not chalk against Clifford.”

I got annoyed. “You make book too? Did you get James to her office?”

“Lighten up, shamuslord. No insult intended. Yes, we went to the office and yes, she did her work.” He lit a cigarette and offered me another. “She’s a tough cookie, that one.”

I looked at him through the smoke of our cigarettes. “How so?”

“It was a lot of work, and she wasn’t feeling too good from the jump.”

“Did she finish?”

He stared at me. “You have a jones about this, don’t you?”

“It takes my mind off my new tax status.”

He almost smiled and pulled a joint out of his shirt pocket. “Here. This will help.”

I reached over, took it, and lit it. “Did she?”

“Did she what?”

“Finish the damn work?”

“Yes, she finished the work. I told you she was a tough one. Hell, if I believed in head shrinkers I’d almost figure her a good one.”

“Why do you say that?”

“While we were in her office she took a call. From what I could hear she did good.”

“Man of a thousand trades, are you? Did you have any hassle with the transport?”

“No eyes anywhere.”

“You’re sure?”

He didn’t say anything and I grew uncomfortable with the silence. “I’m sorry. If you say there was no one around, there was no one around.”

“That’s right. One more thing.”

“What?”

“The honkie that broke into her house and broke her arm was a loser who works for Armour Security Company. Way down the ladder. Him and the company. Rent collectors.”

Julie must have seen my eyes light up. “There’s no way to squeeze him. Long gone.”

“You did some work.”

“Like I said, she’s a good one.”

I sat there smoking the dope. Extortion or blackmail I could figure, but cops, corpses, and security guards left me underwater.

“Matt.”

I looked up. Julius didn’t call me Matt very often.

“I don’t want you to take this wrong, but you are in way over your head.”

I grimaced. “What else is new?”

“No bullshit now. Somebody be beaten, somebody got their arm broke and almost raped, and somebody be dead. If you’re half-right about Clifford, the town’s wrapped up.”

His words went in one ear and out the other. “Look, I can’t go to the police and I’m not going to hire someone else. That leaves me, don’t it?”

We smoked and sat there quietly while I waited for inspiration to shatter the dull drone in my head. None came and after another Camel, I accepted that all I had left was the perspiration side of the creative equation. I thanked Julie for his help and found my way back to my apartment.

But not before Charles found me. “You’re back!” He reached his arms out wide as though welcoming the return of a long-lost relative.

“I was only gone for a day, Charles. How are things around here?”

He ignored my sarcasm. “Very exciting, Matthew. Richard spoke with Lou and they got along famously. Richard said that underneath his tough Chicago exterior, Lou’s a sweetie.”

It surprised me someone thought of Lou as having a tough exterior, but I might be too close to tell. “Lou’s homophobia didn’t act up?”

“Darling, after living with yours for as long as we have, who cares if someone’s homophobia shows?”

“Fuck you too.”

He batted his eyes. “Promises, promises.”

I had to laugh.

“Seriously, Matthew, we are determined to start this project. Richard is crucial to the renovations, but if my job is to be as you said, what will you do for work? I just want you to consider things, Matthew. Knowing you, you won’t want to fire me. I know you are doing these cases now, but when you solve them …”

“If I solve them.”

He tilted his head. “When you solve them, what will you do? Are you certain you want to do detective work?”

“Charles, I’m not sure I even know what detective work is, much less that I want to do it. But I’m sure I don’t want to do the building.” I watched as I slammed the door on another part of my life. Charles put his hands on my shoulders, neatly avoiding any direct contact with the gun, and kissed me on the cheek.

When I got to my apartment I picked up my cigarettes and had one before I went upstairs: I knew it upset Mrs. S. that I smoked. I sat down and looked at the phone. I had a sudden longing to call Boots, and Simon. I thought of how nice Julius and Charles had been to me, and wondered why the ones who got away were always the ones you want.