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'Should I？' The tone had turned aqueous； soft and languid。 The air between them seemed to tremble。
'Maybe。 I met you once before。' He stood over her now； not seeing anything in the twilight except the pale sheen from the whites of her large eyes。 But he felt her presence acutely and it gave him pleasure to stand thus。 'I interviewed you at the beginning of the summer regarding the Angela Didion murder； we talked about your father。'
'That shit！' Even though she spat it out； there remained an
elegance to it。 He heard her take a breath。 'Yeah。 I remember
you。 Big dude with a face like Robert Mitchum's。' His laugh was a brief bark。 'How flattering！ Thanks。' 'Don't get cocky。 His face looks like it's waged World War
Three。 So does yours。'
He waited for a moment； then said； 'Mind if I sit down？' 'You mean I've got a choice？' When he didn't answer； he
felt her shrug。 'Suit yourself。 This isn't my house。'
'That'd be on Sutton Place； right？' he said； sitting down next
to her。
Abruptly her head came away from the wall。 'What the hell's going on； anyway？' she snapped。 'Am I going to be booked？'
'That depends。' '
'On what？'
But his hand； having dipped into his suit jacket pocket； was a blur and he was already moving。 His left hand reached across the space between them。 He grasped her wrists together； pulled。 At the same time； he flicked on the pocket flash； searching the pale flesh on the inside of her elbows。 He tried not to think of the softness of the skin here。
He let her go； sat back。 'I could check the insides of your thighs； too；' he said softly。 'Or you could tell me。〃 He had used a fair amount of pressure and her wrists must hurt but she made no move to rub them； he liked that。 She had a great deal of pride。
'I shoot up through the eyeballs；' she said acidly。 'You've heard of that； I'm sure。 Leaves no tracks。' Her head turned then and her cheek lit up as a grillwork of grey and black fell obliquely 'across her face。 She looked like a heroine out of a fifties' film noir。 Some of the air seemed to go out of her all at once。 'I don't do anything any of you guys don't do。 Probably a good deal less。 I don't blow coke； for instance。'
He said nothing； sat beside her smelling her scent silently until she turned her head and she was in absolute darkness again。 He felt like a blind man； wanting badly； irrationally to see her again。 'Do you believe me ？' Her voice had turned small and he wondered how much of an act she was promoting。
He decided to be honest with her； anything less would be useless and potentially dangerous。 'Yes；' he said slowly。 'I believe you。'
Then I'm free to go？'
'In a minute。' He didn't realize how gentle his voice had bee。 'Why the hell are you involved in all this？'
'What； you mean break my poor old father's heart？' She laughed sardonically。 'e on； what do you want me for？'
'I'm just talking to you；' he said reasonably。
'Yeah； sure。 In a police van； home from a bust。'
'That was your choice； not mine。'
She was silent for a moment and； though he couldn't see her； he knew that she was studying him。 It could all break apart now； he knew； and held his breadi。
She laughed again； a bell…like sound； slightly echoey within the confines of the metal van。 'All right；' she said softly； 'I'll tell you why I do it。 I like it； it's as simple as that。 It's fun to get paid to fuck。 I'm an actress； a model； selling things； just like Angela Didion was。 It's all e on； there's no involvement。'
'Never？'
Her head tossed like a bridling horse's and he saw a flash of light across her eyes。 'Sometimes；' she said truthfully； 'with a woman。' She was thinking of Dare。 'Does that shock you？'
'Not really；' he said。 'Did you think it would？'
'I don't know what kind of man you are。'
'I'm just your plain ordinary New York slob。'
'Yeah； I can see that。' She had hurt him and she knew it； she felt he had asked for it。
'What about the booze？' Croaker asked her。
'What about it？〃 He could hear her voice go hard as he湌m呂mo揕褼；槪希縲炅欧�铢ovH0跎a�5Ｚ*顮貟锰l蜎汼爄y鋽r誒7獡瀬％L＇葑％焙 莌k东拂》v1璈B．�咿赿仯�e o Ixⅰ�3�6BS％特釗（
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