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throngs of tourists and the bright kaleidoscope of shop windows and neon signs with their Chinese pictographs. Rather than go home, maybe he should turn over a few rocks in Wink O’Hare’s neighborhood. This was about the time of day the little vermin was most likely to stick his head out of his hole. On the other hand, just a few blocks up the hill, Grant Avenue intersected with Columbus Avenue and Broadway in the beginning of North Beach’s bright-lights section, and somewhere among the bars and clubs sang a tall red-haired woman who might or might not be involved in murder.
    He stared up the hill, weighing the choices. Finding Wink should have priority — he still had the gun he had presumably used to shoot the bodega’s owner — but evening in North Beach frankly appealed to Garreth far more than Wink’s turf. He had his sources keeping eyes and ears open, and as long as he was on his own time anyway...
    He turned uphill.
    Chinatown gave way to blocks of glittering, garish signs proclaiming the presence of countless clubs. Barkers paced the sidewalks, calling to passersby in a raucous chorus...beckoning, wheedling, leering, each promising the ultimate in exotic entertainment inside his club. Garreth absorbed it all, color and noise, as he threaded his way through the crowd...also keeping alert for unnecessary bumps against him and fingers in his pockets. He spotted some familiar faces...about the time they recognized him, too, and swiftly faded into the crowd.
    He hailed a barker he had met on previous occasions. “How’s business, Sammy?”
    “ All over legal age, Inspector,” Sammy replied quickly. “Come on in and see the show, folks! All live action with the most gorgeous girls in San Francisco!”
    “ Any redheads, Sammy?”
    Sammy eyed him. “Sure. Anything you want.”
    “ Maybe a very tall redhead, say five ten, with green eyes?”
    The barker’s eyes narrowed. “This redhead got a name? Hey, mister!” he called to a passing couple. “Your timing is perfect. The show is about to start. Bring the little lady in and warm up together. What do you want her for, Mikaelian?”
    “ A date, Sammy. What else? Who do you know with that description? She sings in the area.”
    Sammy laughed. “Are you kidding? We’ve got more showgirl redheads than the stores have Barbie dolls. Come on in and see the show, folks! Real adult entertainment, live on our stage! Our girls have curves in places most girls don’t have places, and they’ll show you every one!”
    “ I need names, Sammy,” Garreth said patiently.
    Sammy sighed, not patiently. “Names. Who knows names? Try the Cul-de-Sac across the street. There’s a red-haired singer I seen there. And maybe in the Pussywillow, too. Now, will you move on, man? You’re spoiling my rhythm.”
    Grinning, Garreth moved across the street into the Cul-de-Sac. Yes, a barmaid said when he ordered a rum and Coke, they had a red-haired singer. She came on after the dancer.
    He sat down at the bar, which ran around the edge of the stage. A nearly-naked blonde dragged an enormous cushion out onto the stage and proceeded to writhe on it in simulated ecstasy. In the midst of her throes, she rolled over, saw Garreth watching her with amusement, and said in a bored monotone, “Hi, honey. And what’s your day been like?”
    “ About like yours, unfortunately, hours wasted grinding away at thin air,” he replied.
    A fleeting grin crossed the blonde’s face.
    The singer appeared presently. Garreth left. The redhead’s hair color was bottle-bred brass and she looked old enough to have sung on the Barbary Coast itself.
    He talked to barkers on down the street, collecting a notebook full of possibilities, but checking them out, he found women with the wrong color of red, wrong height, and wrong age. In two hours he checked over a dozen clubs with no success and stood on the sidewalk outside of the last with an ache working its way up from his feet. He looked around, seeking