“Jesus, what an evening,” Grant said, picking up the pizza and examining it. “You know, I think the pizza is okay; shall I stick it in the oven?”

“Considering we nearly died for it, it would be a shame to waste it,” Holly replied.

Grant turned on the oven and put the pizza in to warm up.

Holly was examining the row of bullet holes in the bar counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I think I’ll leave these,” she said. “They’re kind of cute. I mean, who else has bullet holes as part of their decor?”

“I’m glad they’re in the counter, instead of us,” Grant said, retrieving his wineglass. “Or the wine bottle. I think I need this right now.” He took a deep draft of the wine.

“Me too,” Holly said. “That’s two people I’ve killed. So Trini has friends, huh?”

“It would appear so.”

Holly picked up the phone. “What was Harry’s home number again?” Grant gave it to her, and she dialed.

“Hello?” Harry sounded terrible.

“You sick?”

“Terrible cold,” Harry said. “I didn’t go in today. What’s up?”

“Tell me Trini Rodriguez is in the Lauderdale jail.”

“I assume so. Like I said, I didn’t go in today. Why?”

“Because two guys with Uzis visited me tonight.”

“Are you okay, Holly?”

“Barely. One of the shooters is dead, and one is being sought.”

“Anybody else hurt?”

“A pizza deliveryman got a lump on the head, that’s all.”

“Let me call you right back,” Harry said.

Holly hung up the phone. “Harry has a cold; home in bed. He’s going to call back.”

Three minutes later, the phone rang. “It’s Harry. Lauderdale PD didn’t get Trini; he’s at large.”

“I’ll call my department,” she said. “You call the state police and have them look for him on I-95 South. My guess is he’s headed toward home. And I’d stake out that bar Tricky’s, too.”

“I’ll take care of that. Let’s talk tomorrow.” Harry hung up.

Holly called her department and gave Trini’s description to the duty officer, with instructions to radio it to all cars.

“Pizza’s hot, I think,” Grant said, pulling it from the oven and putting it on a platter.

They sat down to eat.

“Who did you tell your cops I am?”

“A neighbor,” she said. “Your cover is still intact. You ready to tell me what you’re working on yet?”

“No can do; nothing has changed in that regard.”

“Have some more wine,” Holly said, pouring him some. “Then we’ll talk about it.”

“Wine will not loosen my tongue.”

“In vino veritas,”she said.

“Not yet. You’re exciting to know,” he said.

“Thanks; you’re pretty dull.”

“What do you mean, dull?”

“The most interesting thing about a person is often his work,” she said. “And I don’t know anything about yours.”

“I’ve regaled you with stories from my undercover past,” he said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“And I’ve given you my body; doesn’t that count for something?”

“It counts for a very great deal,” Grant said. “In fact, once or twice, when you were giving it especially well, I nearly blurted out everything. You want to try again?”

“I’m eating pizza,” she said. “It’s hard to give your body and eat pizza at the same time.”

“Later?”

“We’ll see.”

“Listen, when we’ve eaten, I want you to pack a bag and come home with me.”

“Why?”

“If it was Trini out there, I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes back.”

“You have a point,” she said, kissing him and leaving tomato sauce on his mouth.

“He’s not going to stop trying, you know. He has a reputation for persistence.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Don’t be sorry, be safe,” he said, kissing her back.

“Listen, if we’re going to keep exchanging tomato sauce, let’s do it at your place.”

“Pack a bag, and pack Daisy a bag, too. Enough for a couple of days, or until they find Trini, whichever comes first.”

Soon, they were walking hand in hand up the beach toward Grant’s house, with Daisy gamboling in the dunes. Holly had the gun in her other hand, all the way.

Holly was in her office reading about the death of Howard Singleton when Harry called.

“I want to bring you up to date,” he said.

“You still sound terrible, Harry. Are you at work?”

“Yes, but soon I’m going home and to bed.”

“Okay, bring me up to date.”

“Nobody has found Trini Rodriguez so far, but there’s a statewide APB out for him; sooner or later he’ll turn up.”

“I hope he doesn’t turn up on my doorstep again,” Holly said.

“Grant gave me an account of the evening. Sounds like you saved his neck.”

“I’m always happy to pull the FBI out of it. By the way, have you seen this morning’s Miami papers?”

“No.”

“The head guy at the GSA, Singleton, got hit yesterday.”

“I know about that.”

“It’s got to be related to the Palmetto Gardens thing.”

“It’s not. I spoke to Singleton’s deputy yesterday, a guy named Willard Smith. He says they weren’t working on anything similar. My guess is a jealous husband.”

“Yeah? Well, my guess is Trini Rodriguez.”

“Why would Trini and his people want Singleton dead?”

“I think that would be a real good thing for the FBI to figure out, Harry. A federal employee is dead, and that puts it right in your lap, doesn’t it?”

“I prefer to let the local cops lead on things like this, unless there’s a pressing reason for it to go federal.”

“Call Singleton’s replacement and ask him if he wants to be next; that might get him thinking about why the man was killed.”

“I told you, I’ve already talked to him, and they aren’t working on anything remotely related to this other stuff.”

“Harry, can I remind you that we don’t know what the hell this other stuff is about?”

“Not yet.”

“If we don’t know what it’s about, how do we know that Singleton’s killing wasn’t related? I think his death ought to be on the federal front burner.”

“You’ll have to let me make that judgment, Holly; it’s what I do.”

“You are the most exasperating man,” she said.

“You sound like my wife.”

“Listen to her, Harry.” Holly hung up. She thought for a minute, then called information and got the number for the Miami office of the General Services Administration and dialed it. Shortly, she had Willard Smith on the line.

“My name is Holly Barker, Mr. Smith. I’m chief of police in Orchid Beach, Florida, up the coast.”

“What can I do for you, Chief?” He sounded in a hurry.

“It appears that the death of Howard Singleton might be related to a case I’m working on up here.”

“And what case would that be?”

“Perhaps you’ll recall that there were two murders and another attempt that were related to your office’s auction of the Palmetto Gardens property?”

“I know about that. Listen, I’ve already talked to the FBI about that.”

“I know; I’ve just talked to Harry Crisp.”

“Then your question must be the same as his?”

“Yes. Is there anything at all you’re working on that sounds like the Palmetto Gardens deal?”

“Nothing.”

“You mean you have no confiscated properties for sale?”

“All the time, Chief, but not like that one. In that case, we appeared to have lowball bidders who had been killing off the competition, but when they failed to kill Mr. Shine and the sale to him went through, they had no further reason to kill people.”

“But what I’m asking is, is there another sale pending which might attract the same sorts of bidders?”

“You mean a criminal element?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not. I’ve been through every sale on Howard’s desk-and incidentally, I was the one who put those sales on his desk-and neither Howard nor I has spotted anything remotely similar to the Palmetto Gardens case. I’ve been reviewing the files again this morning, just to be sure, and there’s nothing. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have a great deal of work to do today.”