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Dex’s tale. I gave him the space he needed to think about it all, to pull out the last painful bit. I had no doubt that it
would
be painful, that Dex’s story didn’t have a happy ending. It would explain a lot. The hurt I’d heard in his voice as he told the story. And all those tortured days slumped in his chair in the office. Everything was a little clearer, or so it seemed at the time. So I waited quietly, feeling as though an answer was at hand.
    After a while though, I realized that the end of the story wasn’t going to come. At least not today. Dex’s head slumped forward slightly, and his breathing evened out. There were no more painful pulls on the bottle. I wanted the end of the story— so badly, I wanted it, you can’t imagine—but a part of me was glad. For the moment, for Dex, there was no more pain.
    I didn’t have the feeling of falling asleep. I was aware of Dex’s even breathing and the heavy smell of bourbon in the closed car. I thought about the things Dex had told me, and while I did, it felt as though I turned some mental corner and was transported.

CHAPTER FIVE
    I WAS RUNNING THROUGH a vineyard in France. It was beautiful. I was aware of colors—the vivid greens of the vines, the intense brown hues of the earth, the bright blue canopy of the sky—and I even felt the sun on the back of my neck, on my hair.
    I turned a corner and I saw a boy—a beautiful boy—ahead of me on the path. He looked over his shoulder at me, and the light danced in his eyes. He laughed and he ran faster. I laughed then too. That was the sound that woke me: my own real laughter piercing my dream, calling me back.
    When I opened my eyes it was dark. Dex was still on the passenger seat next to me, one hand on his precious bottle— half empty or half full, depending on your perspective. His head was lolling back at an angle I knew would give him hell when he woke up. Or sobered up. I wasn’t ready yet to find out which it would be.
    As I tried to shake some life into my legs, I saw a car leave Harrison Dempsey’s driveway. Fast. I thought maybe the car had awakened me as much as the laugh. The sound of the motor or the lights coming on, or both. It wasn’t the green Packard though. That was still parked willy-nilly, just as it had been before. The car that left was all black, which didn’t exactly make it a rarity. And I couldn’t see the driver and I didn’t think to get the plate.
    I lifted Dex’s arm to get a glimpse of his watch. Half past ten. I tried not to think about how long we’d been sitting there. Hours. Hours and hours. The big house was in darkness. It didn’t look like anyone was around. According to Dex, it was well beyond the time Dempsey would normally have been at the Zebra Room.
    â€œDex.” I said his name, softly at first. Then repeated it a little more loudly. “Dex!” I shook him gently. All I heard from him was a muffled “Mrrph.” It didn’t feel like he was going to wake up anytime soon.
    I sat back deeply in the driver’s seat, contemplating our options. Or really
my
options, because I knew I wasn’t going to get any big ideas from Dex.
    We were supposed to be tailing this Dempsey guy. But in all likelihood, we’d blown our chance on making good on the job by falling asleep—quite literally—at the wheel. I figured Dempsey had probably hooked a ride with some pal, and through all the shut-eye, we’d missed seeing him leave in the car that had just left his place. I figured that the sensible thing to do was go check out the house, make sure it was as empty as it looked, then maybe drive over to Wilshire. By then Dex would be sober enough to put one foot in front of the other into the Zebra Room and make like the big shamus he was supposed to be.
    Like I said, that’s what I figured. And it all seemed like a good idea at the time. But once out of the car, I