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said after a glance at his wristwatch. “G’night, Rickie. Something I can do, though—to help you now?”
    “No—thank you, Philip. And good night, m’boy.” Rickie moved toward the door, but by the time he got there, Philip was gone.
    Then Rickie set about undressing, washing, turning the bed down in his bedroom, as he had done scores of times before when so drunk he knew everything was taking twice the time to do that it should have taken. At some point in this ritual, he gave up and fell face down on his bed and fast asleep.

4
    T he following Wednesday would have been Peter Ritter’s twenty-first birthday. Rickie had thought of a long weekend in Paris, or Venice, and he remembered he had been going to ask Petey his preference, when the night of the stabbing came. Rickie thought of telephoning Petey’s parents to say a friendly word. After all, he had met them, and they had been quite cordial to him. They had long before become reconciled to the fact that their son preferred his own sex. But on second thoughts, Rickie gave up the idea of telephoning Herr and Frau Christian Ritter, because it might make them sadder.
    Then he thought of Luisa—Zimmermann, wasn’t it? He might think of something to give her on Petey’s birthday. Not that she knew when Petey’s birthday was, probably, but she looked so wistful often, when Rickie saw her, which was always when she was with Renate at Jakob’s. But what to give her? A nice card would be easy, and he could make it. But a gift? Petey had left two scarves here, a couple of sweaters. A pity there wasn’t a ring, though Rickie admitted he would have kept a ring for himself. A scarf. One was dark maroon, the other narrowly striped in red and blue, and made of finely pleated cotton. Rickie had given Petey that. OK, that was it. He washed the scarf in tepid water, then twisted it to make the pleats return.
    By Tuesday morning at his late breakfast at Jakob’s, Rickie had still not seen Luisa, and Renate only once, on Monday. He wasn’t going to give a message for Luisa via Renate!
    Then Rickie saw Luisa crossing the street toward Jakob’s, as he was nearing its back terrace gate. He hailed her.
    She stopped on the pavement, looking surprised.
    “Hello—Luisa,” he repeated, looking for Renate whom he did not see. “Rickie, remember?”
    Her young face smiled, and she brushed a long straight tress of dark hair back. “Of course I remember.”
    Rickie recalled that when she had come to work for Renate, her hair had been short and unruly. “I have something for you—something I’d like to give you. Nothing important. But it’s back at my studio.”
    “Give me? Why?” She shifted, as if ready to fly off.
    “My idea. Petey’s birthday is tomorrow. Would have been. I can make a coffee for you at my studio, but maybe you have a date.” He was thinking of Renate, probably due any minute at Jakob’s, maybe already there.
    “No, I’ll manage.” She glanced behind her, in the direction of Renate’s house.
    They walked quickly, Rickie making an effort to keep up.
    “I’ve forgotten your dog’s name.”
    “Lulu,” said Rickie. “You still work for Renate, don’t you?”
    “Yes, along with three other girls.” Her brown eyes glanced up at him, shining and alert.
    She was so pretty, Rickie thought, with her glossy brown hair, clear complexion, and rather narrow lips, ready to smile. She carried her straight nose high. Today she wore brown slacks, a white shirt, a short black jacket full of pockets and metal snap buttons.
    “Here we are,” said Rickie, though Lulu was leading the way down the cement steps.
    “Oh! I remember this!” Luisa had espied the two plaster-of-Paris females on the bench. “I was here once, you know?”
    Rickie had forgotten. “I hope so,” he said affably. “Now would you like some coffee?”
    She wouldn’t, thanks, and she glanced at her watch. Rickie supposed she was expected by the old witch Renate at Jakob’s, and right