window. Candy and Brewster were on the couch. On a coffee table in front of them was a bottle of Gourvoisier, a siphon of seltzer, a bowl of ice, and two glasses. Candy and Brewster weren’t drinking. They were necking. On the couch. I blushed. The. necking got heavier. Inelegant. Not classy, like dancng on a hotel balcony. I looked away and leaned against the house. Now what? Candy didn’t seem to be in real danger unless Brewster was planning to feel her to death. But what about later? I looked back in the window. Candy was partially undressed. I felt like the photo editor at Hustler. I looked up at the moon. On the couch? I thought. Jesus Christ! The sophisticated superrich. I looked once more. They were naked. Making love. On the couch.
I had a full file of Dick Tracy crime-stoppers at home, but none of them that I could remember covered this. What would Allan Pinkerton do? What would I tell the Bel-Air Patrol if they put the arm on me here in the bushes? My palms felt a little sweaty. I squinted a little to blur things and took a quick peek. They were still at it. Private eye was one thing, Peeping Tom was another. I headed for the car.
I was still sitting in it in the driveway of the empty house at twenty minutes of four when the Caddy pulled out of the driveway and turned right. It turned right again at Sunset, and I could see it heading east on Sunset when I turned the corner as far behind it as I could get without losing sight. I couldn’t see who was in it, and it could have been a fake to lead me away, but the best guess was that it was taking Candy home. It was also the right guess.
I waited up on Sunset while the chauffeur opened the door and escorted Candy in. He came back out, got in the Caddy, went on down Wetherly, and disappeared around the corner on Phyllis. Then I pulled up in front of Candy’s house and parked.
Candy let me in on the first knock. “Were you behind me all the way?” she said.
“All the way,” I said. She looked about as she had when she left nine hours ago. Her lipstick was fresh. Her clothes were neat. Her hair was smooth. She smelled wonderfully of perfume and good brandy, and her eyes sparkled.
“I didn’t dare look for you. I saw you outside Perino’s but that’s all. It’s a funny feeling being shadowed.”
“That’s me,” I said. “The shadow. The weed of crime bears bitter fruit.”
“He’s a really charming man,” Candy said. I nodded.
“He’s very sure, if you know what I mean. Very in-charge. He seems to have been everywhere. He seems to know everyone.”
“Who knows,” I said, “what evil lurks in the hearts of men.”
“I can’t even remember that program. I’ve just heard nostalgia records.”
I said, “So you like old Peter, do you?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t like him at all. But he likes me and he thinks I like him, and I’m going to let him keep thinking so until I can nail him right to the floor.” As she spoke her face looked very flat and tight, and the cheekbones seemed more prominent.
I found a beer in the refrigerator and draped myself in Candy’s armchair and let one foot hang over the arm and drank some beer.
“Did you get a sense of what he was after?” Nice phrasing.
Candy nodded. “I think he’s trying to find out what I know.”
“He any good at it?”
“Not bad,” Candy said, “but I’ve been hustled by people who were better. Although most of them were just after my body.”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry you had to sit around outside until four in the morning,” Candy said.
I shrugged.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did in there until four in the morning?”
“I know already,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows at me. “I peeked in the window,” I said.
Candy turned red. “You watched?”
“Briefly,” I said.
She was very flushed now, “Did you see us… ?”
“Yeah,” I said. “For a minute.”
She was silent for a moment, “Well,” she said, “you didn’t see anything you hadn’t already seen, did you?”
“The angle was different,” I said.
Her, face got hard again, the way it had when she spoke of nailing Brewster.
“Turn you on?” she said.
I shook my head. “No. Embarrassed me. I didn’t want to lose sight of you and I didn’t want to watch. I settled for sitting in the car.”
Her face was still hard. “Disapprove?”
“I don’t know. I might,” I said. “I don’t disapprove of you screwing somebody. I might disapprove of you screwing somebody in order to nail him to the floor.”
“You make me laugh,” she said. “All of you.”
“All of me?” I drank the rest of the beer.
