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like I know you want.”
    â€œJust make sure nothing is messed with till my friend gets here. His name is Mendez.”

7
    The Schneider Collection Agency was on the ground level of a rundown office building at the intersection of Rey and Nold streets. There was a White Castle hamburger place next door, apartments across the street, and a mall down the road. Lena parked the Cutlass and left the windows open halfway. Maynard sniffed thoughtfully, smelling french fries.
    Lena peered through the mesh of the cage. “How’d you like to visit your old daddy, huh? How’d you like to see Ricky?”
    Maynard sniffed thoughtfully.
    â€œKeep your paws crossed.”
    The outside doors of the building were painted in primary colors. The door of the Schneider Agency had been red, but it faced west, into the sun, and the paint and the wood were chipping. It was more pink now than red. Lena went in.
    The girl in the front office was new. Lena decided she couldn’t be more than eighteen. The girl typed delicately at a keyboard with the tips of long pinkish silver fingernails. Her hair was brunette, permed, and pulled up on top of her head in a ponytail held by a pink velvet bow. She looked at Lena and frowned.
    â€œRick in?” Lena said.
    â€œMr. Savese is on the phone.”
    â€œGo back and get him when he’s off, will you?”
    The girl wrinkled her nose. “I’ll see if he can be disturbed. Who shall I say is here to see him?”
    â€œ Mrs . Savese.”
    The brunette’s eyes widened. She got up slowly, glanced over her shoulder at Lena, then went through a door on the left. Lena caught a glimpse of two women and three men at phone stations. The girl left the door ajar, and Lena pushed it open gently and stood in the doorway.
    â€œWell, screw you.” A woman in blue jeans and a Coors T-shirt grimaced. She caught sight of Lena and waved. The room was hot and stuffy. It looked like a student lounge, with posters on the wall, half-filled coffee cups, Coke cans, and an open box of doughnuts on a desk.
    Rich was slumped at his station, a bored look in his eyes. The oh-honey routine, Lena decided. He had on the glasses, clear lenses, that helped establish the character. Somehow he always knew which approach to use.
    â€œOh, honey,” Rick said, and Lena smiled. A boom box played a Phil Collins song. Too loud.
    â€œYou don’t know what she’ll do to me, my boss would freeze hell with a look.” Rick leaned forward. “Oh, yeah, I got the social security number, it’s the policy number I need.” He paused. “Don’t you know it? She would, too.”
    The brunette in the pink bow shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
    Rick tapped his keyboard. “Yeah, it’s coming up. Crap, we’re losing it again. New software is a bitch, let me tell you. How much was that coverage for? One hundred thousand? Honey, you saved my life. I wish Memphis was closer to Wisconsin, I might tool down and see you. Oh, Lord, here she comes. See you, and thanks again, babe.”
    â€œRick!” The girl in the pink bow spoke in an urgent stage whisper. “There’s some woman here wants to see you. I think it’s your ex-wife .”
    Rick looked up and smiled at Lena. It was a thousand-watt charmer, that smile, despite the wariness behind it. Rick’s hair was dark blond and thick. It looked mussed and windblown, though Lena knew the time, effort, and hair gel it took to achieve the look. Rick folded the glasses and put them in his shirt pocket. The shirt was loose, white cotton, probably about eighty dollars new. His jeans were tight, a faded cornflower blue, and he wore black leather cowboy boots.
    â€œLena!” He stood up. “Hey, the earrings are great. Turquoise, I like it.” He smiled at the brunette. “Ellen, I’m taking a break. Where’s Arlan?”
    â€œIn his office talking to the repo guy.”
    â€œIf