I smoked while Biancho raised the quality of life in his corner of the world. His comment about my interest in Lauren Rowe and his contact with Washington Clifford fueled my curiosity, so, when the young, good-looking Chief returned, I planned to prod. He couldn’t bust me for pushing, I’d already cleaned my pockets. If I had to, I could always tell him I was working for the person he was trying to protect. The Chief seemed a whole lot more amenable to listening than Washington Clifford.

Biancho strode back into the room.

I stayed silent until he was seated. “Look, Chief, I don’t want to hoof after your flock. It’s my time and dime. But it would go a long way if you told me something about the Rowe’s.”

Biancho studied me as a small smile softened his intense face. “Your father-in-law and Lauren Rowe have been seeing each other for a while. A little late off the mark, aren’t you?”

“Part of my charm,” I paused, “late or not, I’m not comfortable letting him walk into something ice cold.”

Biancho wasn’t buying altruism so I tried avarice. “He and I are partners in a couple of buildings.”

The Chief’s eyes bore into me again. “Washington Clifford told me you’re stubborn. I’ll talk with you now so that stubbornness doesn’t get you in trouble later, understand?”

I nodded, though I’d already begun considering a talk with Clifford myself.

“This has always been a wealthy, right-wing town. In the seventies, Lauren and Paul Brown moved into the old Fuller house. Let’s say they didn’t exactly fit into the community.”

“Too liberal? Not rich enough?”

“Everything must have gone into the house and this was long before the boom. The family had trouble making ends meet. Around here people buy from local stores and run tabs. Paul and Lauren fell behind to everybody.”

“That’s a credit card society for you.”

He ignored me. “Their house became a quick cure center for anything from war to herpes. For a while the place functioned as a commune.”

“Sex and drugs?”

His lips tightened. “Rumors.”

“Rumors about both Paul and Lauren?”

“Most people didn’t think Paul had much choice. Look, in this village, if you aren’t rich or don’t service ‘em, no one understands why you’re here.”

He noticed his own bitter undertone and quickly corrected. “Lauren Rowe has changed over the years,” Biancho said impassively, “but around here she’s still an outsider.”

“And her husband?”

“He never had her reputation.”

“And Lauren still makes people uncomfortable?”

Biancho shook his short hair while I lit another cigarette. “She’s had problems with her sons and that hasn’t helped,” he said flatly.

“You like the lady, don’t you, Chief?”

“My job is to protect everyone who lives here, Jacob,” his voice neutral.

“And you take your job seriously.”

“Part of my charm. It also keeps me employed. Lauren Rowe could live to be a hundred but people will still think of her as a misfit,” he added testily.

“Sounds personal.”

His thin features were pinched, but his voice calm. “I don’t like private detectives who put words in my mouth.”

I understood the warning. “Where are you from, Chief?”

“Here, California for college, then eventually back home. I worked on the force until I became Chief.”

Another grim look washed his features. “What I’m telling you is actually quite simple. Whatever you may hear, Lauren Rowe’s reputation exceeds any present reality. Whatever relationship your father-in-law has with her, there’s no reason to be tagging along. Am I clear?” he asked, rising.

Clear, and clear that our conversation was over. I considered confiding Lauren’s concerns, but remained reluctant to betray a client’s confidentiality. Even hers. Especially to a Top Cop.

“Thanks,” I said following him down the corridor to the side door. “I appreciate what you’ve told me.”

“I don’t remember telling you anything,” he warned. “I’m simply asking you to stop trailing after our residents.” He showed teeth, but there was no warmth in his smile as he ushered me out the door.

I passed a couple of paunchy middle-aged Blues on the path alongside the station. Both took hard looks, waiting until I was at my car before continuing toward the door. I guess the Chief was more tolerant of funk than his force. And given the age difference between him and his troops, much more ambitious.

I wasted no time telephoning. Biancho wanted me gone and so did I. I pulled the Bimmer onto Lauren’s block and parked oceanside, across the narrow street from the Hacienda. But before leaving the car I sat staring at Lauren’s large, rundown house. Chipped paint and tired clapboard, the far side perched on two thick, brick stilts lifting it over a small rock mountain. Extending over the top of the columns was a huge deck. If the stilts held, the deck offered a hell of a view.

Lauren opened the door while I was still climbing the wobbly stairs. “I didn’t know whether you wanted to come inside.”

“I was finishing my cigarette.”

She waved me inside and pointed to a cluttered sitting room directly on the right. “Good timing,” Lauren said. “I just got back from taking Ian to his apartment.”

Lauren pointed toward an oversized easy chair alongside large bay windows. “Please. Can I get you anything?” she asked waiting in her fashionably wrinkled linen palazzo pants and matching coffee silk tee. It was easy to understand Lou’s attraction. Real easy.

“Just an ashtray,” I said sitting, her stylish manner magnetic.

Lauren placed a glass ashtray on the tired table next to my chair and I immediately fired up. She made me nervous.

“You smoke a lot, don’t you?”

“Too much.”

“I gave it up when I left Paul,” she said making herself comfortable on a worn velveteen couch. “These days it seems like nobody smokes.”

“I grew up in the wrong time and place to function without ‘em.”

Though the room wasn’t large and the furnishings dark, the open bay windows allowed a warm afternoon light. “I guess good things can come from bad situations,” I said absently, listening to the ocean in the background.

Lauren shrugged. “I suppose. Have you tried to quit?”

“No,” I said fidgeting. “Other habits are in front of the line. Ian has recovered enough to return home?”

“He thinks so,” Lauren said.

“You don’t?” Better to talk about him than me.

“He insisted. It’s probably for the best since we haven’t been getting along.” Lauren’s fingers picked at the large gold hoop in her ear.

We remained silent until I got down to business. Or lack of it. “I don’t have much to tell, Lauren. I covered you the whole weekend and came up empty. Did you get any of those negative feelings?”

“After Lou left I climbed out to a cliff by the ocean. I like to sit there and think. I sensed I was being watched, but it wasn’t the same.”

“That was probably me,” I said. “It was the only time I got close.” And perhaps Biancho, but I didn’t want to admit to being caught. Nor did I want to share any of my leftover unease. “I don’t think you really have too much to worry about.”

Lauren tossed her head. “You follow me for one weekend and decide that?” she asked. “Someone is frightening me!”

The upshift in her voice drove me to my feet. “Lauren, when we first spoke about the situation even you weren’t taking it this seriously.”

“Don’t you realize what it would do to Lou if he knew I was this scared?” she snapped.

Lauren stood up, placing her hand on her hip. “I’ve lived through plenty and, frankly, I don’t scare easily. But this has me freaked. Do you realize how difficult it is to even ask for help?”

What I realized was I wanted out. “I don’t know what to say. There was no one following you.”

“I already knew that. I can tell when I’m being stalked.”

“But you won’t go to the police.”

Lauren marched to a lacquered black liquor cabinet in the corner of the room. “Do you want anything to drink?” she asked disgustedly.

I wanted to empty the fucking cabinet. “No thanks,” I heard myself answer. “Hard liquor is one of the things in front of the line. But I’ll take a beer if you have one,” I said sitting back down.

There was a sheepish smile when she returned with a Miller. “Ian’s attitude and leaving has definitely put me on edge. I know you’ve gone out of your way and I’m sorry about my temper.”

“And I’m sorry if I sound callous. I just don’t have anything to report.” I stupidly tried to reassure her. “I met with your Police Chief before I came here...”

“You what?”

“Not by choice,” I said, pitching my embarrassment. “Biancho called and suggested it.”

“What did he want?”

“Someone noticed me and he wanted to make sure I wasn’t harassing you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I was checking up on my father-in-law’s relationship.”

“And Ted believed you?”

“Why not? He seemed okay.”

“You like him?”

“I wouldn’t call it like, he’s a cop.”

“You’re wondering why I won’t talk to him?”

“It crossed my mind,” I said, watching as she seated herself back on a couch.

“I’m not well thought of in this town,” Lauren said bluntly. “Anyone who doesn’t fit is a pariah. Especially me. There have been incidents involving my kids.”

I waited for more about those incidents, but all I got was an earful of tense silence. “Why not move?” I finally asked.

“And give up the Hacienda?” Lauren shook her head vehemently. “I love this house too much to ever leave. I’ve learned to live with my red letter, and I’ll be dammed if I’ll give the pricks around here the satisfaction of driving me out.”

“Biancho didn’t sound as if he dislikes you.”

“Teddy Biancho is something of an exception. It changes the way you think about people when you’re a dirt poor townie in a wealthy community. He was in school with my daughter who was one of his few friends. Maybe his only friend and their friendship has given me breathing room. At least with him. But if he starts poking around, everyone in town will hear about it.

sust what I need,” Lauren added sarcastically. “Another round of ugly assumptions about that strange woman. Believe me, there’s already plenty of talk about me and Lou. Everybody wonders about the difference in our ages—just like you.”

Lou targeted by gossip amped both my annoyance and guilt. He wasn’t going to be happy when he heard about this conversation and I wasn’t going to make it worse so I slid past the age thing. “The police up here are one thing, but you refused to report what happened to your car in the city. That I find really hard to understand.”

A sad, hurt look flashed across her face but instantly disappeared. “I want nothing to do with authorities, Matthew. For too many years I felt hounded and harassed every time someone disliked my politics or lifestyle. Do you want to guess what it cost for zoning fights once people discovered we were something of a commune?” Lauren asked. “After a while treatment like that sours you toward officials, no matter where they’re from. If the car had been worth anything I might have reported it, but it wasn’t, so why put up with crap?”

There was more in her closet about the car, but I had no stomach to bang on the door.

“You have a strange look on your face, Matthew.”

“I’m trying to figure out what to do. I don’t like this hanging over your head.”

“You mean Lou’s head, don’t you?” Lauren said without rancor. “I know you think we’re a bad match. You don’t hide your feelings all that well.”

I edged out of the room toward the front door. “Lou comes from a different place than you, Lauren. I’d hate to see him make a fool of himself.”

“You mean you’d hate to see me make a fool of him.”

“I’m afraid of Lou getting hurt.”

A smile broke through her stormy face. “I feel exactly the same way, but I don’t think you believe that.”

I started to lie but she interrupted. “Maybe we can meet halfway. I’m throwing our annual summer’s end party next Saturday. I was undecided whether to go ahead because of Ian’s accident, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m ashamed of him. My whole family, Paul’s, and other people, will be here. Come and see us in a normal circumstance. Of course, Lou will love it.”

There was that word “accident” again. “Paul’s family?”

“Anne and Heather Heywood. I think I told you that Paul lives with Anne, and Heather is her daughter.”

“A strange mix,” I said dubiously. I was just getting used to the idea of more surveillance and now I was listening to this tired New Age shit again.

A broad grin lit Lauren’s remaining shadows and she grabbed my arm which immediately grew warm. “You can’t be that old-fashioned. Lou tells me you’re on the cutting edge.”

I returned her smile and tried to retrieve my arm. “The only thing that gets cut when I’m on the edge is me. I’m not sure about the party, but I’ll continue to watch your back. That seem okay?”

Lauren nodded gratefully. “Except for the party, it’s more than I could hope for.”