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many things on the walls, in either her apartment or hershop. When she reached her apartment—where, she had to admit, she’d gotten a bit carried away with an astrological theme—she found that her books were strewn across the floor but she’d suffered no other damage. Maggie wasn’t in the apartment, so Melanie ignored the books for the moment and walked through to the shop.
    The lights were on; she hadn’t lost electricity. When she’d first moved to L.A. she’d rued the fact that she didn’t have plate-glass windows looking out on the street; now she was glad. Amazingly, she hadn’t lost a single windowpane. Peering through her chintz curtains, she could see that other buildings around her hadn’t fared so well; many of her neighbors were out sweeping up broken glass.
    The corkboard she kept on one wall for posting notices and pictures had fallen, and Maggie was busy collecting the collars and leashes—plain and designer, big and small—that lay scattered around the room.
    â€œEarthquakes!” Maggie said with a shudder.
    Melanie grimaced. “At least so far I haven’t heard that any deaths have been reported.”
    â€œSo far,” Maggie said quietly.
    â€œHey, you live with hurricanes. That’s the way it is. There is no actual paradise on earth, you know.”
    Maggie set a rhinestone collar on the counter and stared at Melanie. “Okay, so—what happened after you ran out like a crazy woman?”
    Melanie righted the bar stool she kept behind the counter and sat down. “I don’t know, exactly,” she admitted.
    â€œThe way to tell a story is from the beginning to the end, you know,” Maggie commented dryly.
    Maggie took a deep breath. “Okay. We were out for the evening when the earthquake hit. I went outside to—”
    â€œYou’re already neglecting something,” Maggie pointed out.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou suddenly becoming Rembrandt.”
    Melanie shook her head and waved a hand in the air, dismissing her artwork. “I heard someone screaming from Mr. Delancy’s jewelry shop, and there were six guys there attacking Mr. D and Viv Larson, the salesgirl, and then…” She paused and shook her head, as if trying to make sense of everything that had happened. “Then this guy showed up, and he…well, he must have had some kind of martial-arts training or something, because I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. Anyway, he went after the guys beating up Mr. D, and I chased the guy who took Viv. I followed them to the cemetery farther down Santa Monica, and when I got there, the guy showed up again. I mean, it was weird. He was tall enough, and well built, but I have no idea how he took on all six of those creeps.”
    â€œYou know what they say. Disaster brings out the best and worst in people.”
    â€œYes, but…”
    â€œBut what?”
    â€œHe survived. And I still don’t know what he was doing there,” Melanie said.
    Maggie picked up a broom and started sweeping.“Melanie, don’t you think he was pretty surprised to see you there, as well? I mean, how many women who look like you turn out to be good in a fight?”
    â€œLots,” Melanie said with a laugh. “This is Hollywood, remember?”
    Maggie didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. She just stopped sweeping and stared at Melanie. “Well, was he…?”
    â€œLike me?” Melanie asked softly.
    â€œYes,” Maggie said flatly.
    â€œNo, I don’t think so. I mean, I know he wasn’t.”
    â€œYou’re certain?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œâ€˜I’m certain’ and ‘I think so’ are not the same thing,” Maggie said. “It’s very strange,” she continued gravely.
    â€œMaybe he just studied kung fu or something. It’s not so strange—maybe.”
    Maggie stopped sweeping to wave a hand