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color. “I don’t like being brushed off like that—it ain’t
human
. And I’m touchy about shooting, specially since a friend of mine was shotlast year. Right on this very beach, a few miles south of where you’re sitting.”
    “You don’t mean Gabrielle Torres?”
    “I should say I do. You heard about Gabrielle, eh?”
    “A little. So she was a friend of yours.”
    “Sure, she was. Some people would have a prejudice, her being part Mex, but I say if a person is good enough to work with you, a person is good enough to be your friend.” Her monolithic bosom rose and fell under the flowered-cotton wrapper.
    “Nobody knows who shot her, I hear.”
    “Somebody knows. The one that did it.”
    “Do you have any ideas, Mrs. Lamb?”
    Her face was as still as stone for a long moment. She shook her head finally.
    “Her cousin Lance, maybe, or his manager?”
    “I wouldn’t put it past them. But what reason could they have?”
    “You’ve thought about it, then.”
    “How could I help it, with them going in and out of the cottage next door, shooting off guns on the beach? I told Hester the day she left, she should learn a lesson from what happened to her friend.”
    “But she went off with them anyway?”
    “I guess she did. I didn’t see her leave. I don’t know where she went, or who with. That day I made a point of going to visit my married daughter in San Berdoo.”

chapter
6
    I RELAYED as little as possible of this to George Wall, who showed signs of developing into a nuisance. On the way to Los Angeles, I turned into the drive of the Channel Club. He gave a wild look around, as though I was taking him into an ambush.
    “Why are we coming back here?”
    “I want to talk to the guard. He may be able to give me a lead to your wife. If not, I’ll try Anton.”
    “I don’t see the point of that. I talked to Anton yesterday, I told you all he said.”
    “I may be able to squeeze out some more. I know Anton, did a piece of work for him once.”
    “You think he was holding out on me?”
    “Could be. He hates to give anything away, including information. Now you sit here and see that nobody swipes the hubcaps. I want to get Tony talking, and you have bad associations for him.”
    “What’s the use of my being here at all?” he said sulkily. “I might as well go back to the hotel and get some sleep.”
    “That’s an idea, too.”
    I left him in the car out of sight of the gate, and walked down the curving drive between thick rows of oleanders. Tony heard me coming. He shuffled out of the gatehouse, gold gleaming in the crannies of his smile.
    “What happened to your loco friend? You lose him?”
    “No such luck. You have a nephew, Tony.”
    “Got a lot of nephews.” He spread his arms. “Five-six nephews.”
    “The one that calls himself Lance.”
    He grunted. Nothing changed in his face, except that he wasn’t smiling any more. “What about him?”
    “Can you tell me his legal name?”
    “Manuel,” he said. “Manuel Purificación Torres. The name my brother give him wasn’t good enough for him. He had to go and change it.”
    “Where is he living now, do you know?”
    “No, sir, I don’t know. I don’t have nothing to do with that one no more. He was close to me like a son one time. No more.” He wagged his head from side to side, slowly. The motion shook a question loose: “Is Manuel in trouble again?”
    “I couldn’t say for sure. Who’s his manager, Tony?”
    “He don’t got no manager. They don’t let him fight no more. I was his manager couple years ago, trained him and managed him both. Brought him along slow and easy, gave him a left and taught him the combinations. Kept him living clean, right in my own house: up at six in the morning, skip-the-rope, light and heavy bag, run five miles on the beach. Legs like iron, beautiful. So he had to ruinate it.”
    “How?”
    “Same old story,” Tony said. “I seen it too many times. He wins a couple-three fights, two