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himself thoroughly to Gloria. But where business is concerned, there’s only one man I trust—and even Mac has been known to pull a swifty occasionally. Or two or three. He was doing it now, of course. He’d thrown me into this mess with the warning that things weren’t what they seemed, which is as much warning as he ever gives us; just enough, he hopes, to keep us from spoiling the operation by getting killed.
    As I drove, I glanced at the girl who shared with me the fancy car belonging to the man whose name I’d appropriated along with his brand-new wife. Gloria sensed my attention and gave a pull to her skirt, brushed away an imaginary smudge, and grimaced.
    “It’s not exactly the costume I’d have chosen for a Mexican tour, but at least I’m getting some wear out of it, ” she said dryly. “At one point, I was about to stuff it all into the fireplace and pour charcoal lighter all over it and watch it bum.”
    “Seems kind of drastic,” I said mildly. “An expensive bonfire, by the looks of it.”
    Her voice was suddenly harsh: “How do you think a girl feels about the gorgeous wedding outfit she’s picked very carefully to please the man she’s about to marry. . . . How do you think she feels after learning that this wonderful man is planning to murder her for her money afterwards?” Gloria shook her head quickly. “Oh, it wasn’t that my heart was broken or anything like that. Our marriage was more a practical arrangement than a passionate romance; after all, he was quite literally old enough to be my father. I’d known him all my life; he’d been Papa’s friend and partner since before I was bom. Good old Uncle Buffy! And all those years I’d believed in that kindly, helpful, sympathetic . . . I didn’t love him, not in a romantic way, but he was an old, trusted friend, a solid rock. . . . Oh, God, you can’t stand being so wrong about somebody, the sneaky old bastard!”
    I said deliberately, “So you got back at him by preserving your expensive bridal finery to use in a phony wedding instead of burning it. You didn’t let him know you were onto him; instead you got hold of the proper authorities and set him up. Or did they get hold of you?”
    “They got hold of me, of course.” She shook her head ruefully. “I never suspected a thing, and I wouldn’t have known where to go if I had. I’m sure the police would just have treated me as a hysterical girl with the bridal jitters. After all, Horace is a wealthy and respected citizen. I didn’t believe it myself when Mr. Somerset first told me, and I thought his proposition was downright wild. It wasn’t until he proved to me what Uncle Bufly was planning. . . . After that, I had no choice but to cooperate, did I? I had to go through with the wedding so Mr. Somerset could make this crazy bridegroom switch, although I still don’t understand what it’s supposed to accomplish.”
    I said, “Well, it’s supposed to lead us to the arms somehow, but don’t ask me exactly how. Presumably we’ll know more after we’ve made contact with this character Cody arranged to meet in Cananea. ’’ After a moment, I went on: “So you’d known him all your life? Cody?”
    She nodded. “Yes. He was always there, off and on, as far back as I can remember, good old beanpole Uncle Buffy, seven feet tall in his cowboy boots—well, almost—and so skinny he used to say he had to stand twice in the same place to cast a shadow. A real Gary Cooper type. He’s a little more substantial nowadays, but not much. Well, you saw him. He used to bring me lollipops and ice cream cones when I was a little giri. He never forgot Christmas or my birthday; he’d always send me something wonderful even when he couldn’t bring it himself, like when I was going to school in the East.”
    I glanced at her. “So that’s where the accent went,” I said. “I wondered. I haven’t heard you cut loose with a single Texas you-all, not one.”
    She grimaced. “Yes,