Paid a condolence call last week and just wanted to see how she's doing.'
'Oh. Well, this is her attorney, Nathan Best. She's doing as well as can be expected. left for New York last night to visit with some old friends.'
Any idea when she'll be back?'
'I'm not sure she will.'
'Okay,' I said. 'If you speak to her, give her my best.'
All right. What did you say your name was?'
'Delaware.'
Are you a doctor?'
'Psychologist.'
'You wouldn't be in the market for some bargain real estate, would you, Doctor? The estate will be divesting itself of several properties.'
'No, thanks.'
'Well, if you know someone who is, tell them. Bye.'
At five o'clock, I stuck to a recently acquired routine and drove to a small white house on a shady dead-end street in West L. A just east of Santa Monica.
This time Robin came along with me. I parked and got out.
'Shouldn't be long.'
'Take your TIME' She pushed the seat back, put her feet up on the dash, and began sketching pearl-inlay designs on a piece of Bristol board.
As usual, the house was curtained. I walked up the path of railroad ties that split the lawn. Vermilion-and- white petunias struggled in the borders. A Plymouth Voyager van was parked in the driveway.
Behind it was a dented copper-colored Honda. The heat was really settling in and the air felt thick and greasy. I couldn't detect any breeze. But something was causing the bamboo chimes over the doorway to clank.
I knocked. The peephole slid open and a pretty blue eye filled it.
The door swung back and Vicki Bottomley stood aside and let me pass.
She wore a lime-green nurse's smock over white stretch pants.
Her hair was sprayed tight. A pumpkin-colored mug was in her hand.
'Coffee?' she said. 'There's a little left.'
'No, thanks. How's it going today?'
'Seems to be better, actually.'
'Both of them?'
'Mostly the little one-she's really come out of her shell. Running around like a real little bandit.'
'Good.'
'Talking to herself, too-is that okay?'
'I'm sure it is.'
'Yeah. That's what I thought.'
