r women very well."
"She's a weird broad. I don't trust her."
"Why not?"
"She don't ask for anything. A broad who don't ask you for anything has got a different kind of hustle going. Tony don't see it." He twirled the putter like a baton in his fingers.
I found her sitting on a tall chair-backed stool in the bar. The bar was done in mahogany and teakwood, with brass-framed round mirrors and barometers on the walls and copper kettles full of ferns hung in the windows that looked out over the yacht basin. Her eyes were clear now, and her hands lay quietly on the polished black surface of the bar, her fingers touching the sides of a Manhattan glass. She nibbled at the orange slice; then her face tightened when she saw me walk into the periphery of her vision. I ordered a cup of coffee from the bartender.
"What do I have to say? Don't you know how to let someone alone?" she said.
"I think you need a friend."
"And you're it? What a laugh."
"I know Baxter. If you've got a deal going with him, he'll burn you."
I saw her swallow, either with anger or fear.
"What is the matter with you? Are you trying to get me killed?" she said.
"Get on a plane, Kim. L.A.'s great this time of year. I'll get some money for you."
She looked straight ahead and breathed hard, way down in her chest.
"You're a cop," she said.
"Ex."
"Now."
"You'd better check out my record. Cops with my kind of mileage are the kind they shove out the side door."
"I can't afford you. I'm going to ask you one more time, get away from me."
"You're a nice girl. You don't deserve the fall you're headed for."
She started to speak again, but her words caught in her throat as though she had swallowed a large bubble of air. Then she sipped from her Manhattan, straightened her back, and signaled the bartender.
"This man is annoying me," she said.
He was young, and his eyes glanced nervously at me and then back at her.
"Did you hear me?" she said.
"Yes."
"Would you tell him to leave, please?" she said.
"Sir, this lady is making a request," the bartender said.
He wore a long-sleeved white shirt and a black bow tie, and his hair was blond and oiled.
"Yeah, I heard her, podna. I don't know where else I should go, though."
"Would you tell him to get the fuck out of the bar?" she said.
"Miss, please don't use that language."