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cigarettes for herself and Cain and then removed her shoes, sighing.
    “I seem to have big feet,” she said.
    “You should,” he said. “You’re a tall woman.”
    “How delicate, Cain. I’m a horse. You look more like a stork. But then a man can get away with it.” She leaned back comfortably, smoking.
    She took their mission as casually, Cain thought, as if they were on a pleasure jaunt. Yet he was sure that her actions tonight would change her relationship with Toby Patton. He suggested as much to her.
    Lisa was silent for a moment, staring over the water. Outside of a brightly lighted ferry off to the south there was nothing but darkness about. Cain had the powerful searchlight of the little runabout aimed along the bow and now and then he switched it on.
    When Lisa got around to answering his question, she said, “I’m what you might call the King’s Costumer. My shop is in the same building as Toby’s so-called Art Gallery. I always furnish the costumes for his parties.”
    “What’s it to be tonight,” Cain asked, “nymphs and satyrs?”
    “He’s done that one to death,” she said. “Tonight it’s chain mail and helmets.”
    Cain turned his deep-set eyes on her. “Chain mail?”
    “For the ladies, yes. It isn’t real, of course. Just a kind of fiber stuff. I think the idea is they’re supposed to make it tougher for the men to get at the women — if they catch them. I imagine it’s going to be one of Toby’s ‘chase’ parties. And the helmets supposedly keep the women from being identified.”
    “Childish,” Cain said.
    “Not the way Toby does it,” she told him. “Vicious is a better word.”
    “Is that why you go to his parties, because he’s a customer?”
    “Sure. I want to keep an eye on my costumes.”
    Cain tried a different tack. “My error back there. I didn’t realize you were married.”
    “Let’s forget Mr. Simms. I have.”
    There was another silence. Then Lisa said, “I’m not doing this for you or Honor or Paula, Cain. I’m doing it because I hate Toby Patton.” Her face lost its beauty for the moment. “And if you think he needs killing, tell me. I’ll be glad to help you.”
    • • •
    They ran inshore without lights, Lisa lying in the bow and steering Cain to the dock by her voice. When they were tied up, she put on her shoes again. Cain said, “Now what?”
    “The best bet is to go up the beach and cut inland,” she said. “There are two or three clearings in the forest and Toby usually has his ‘prize’ in one of them. That way, if they’re ahead of us, we can meet them coming in this direction.”
    Cain got out his pencil flashlight. “Besides annoying Toby, what do you get out of this?”
    Lisa tugged down the crotch of her overalls. “If he has anything to do with Paula’s disappearance, I’d like to know it so I could help mess up his plans. I meant what I said back there.”
    Cain didn’t doubt her. “Why should Toby want Paula to disappear?”
    “Why does Toby do any of the things he does? Who knows?”
    It wasn’t an answer to satisfy Cain. He said, “I’ve heard that Toby is Munger’s man. Maybe he’s doing something on Munger’s orders.”
    She was abrupt. “Could be.” She started off down the beach.
    Cain caught up with her and tried again. “What does Toby do besides shill for Munger?”
    “He runs an art gallery of sorts. It’s really a place to display his and his friends’ work — such as it is — and to sell pornography under the guise of art.”
    Cain remembered something. He said, “Paula dabbles in sculpture.”
    “That’s how they met,” Lisa said. “They both model in clay and wax a good deal. She’s much better than he.”
    “And he sells his stuff?”
    “Now and then. But he operates strictly by appointment.” She was limping in the tight shoes. “Mostly he fills orders for people. Curtin is his legman for that. He travels all over for Toby. And through their obscenities — antiques, of