Gary turned red, which meant he was pissed off. Charlie had forgotten for a moment who he was dealing with, but he remembered now. Gary leaned across the table and lowered his voice.

“If you think talking to a reporter is the worst thing I can do to you, you must have forgotten some of the things you’ve seen me do. Fuck with me and you’ll have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life.”

Gary leaned back and let what he’d said sink in. “I’m going to forget how rude you’ve just been. We’ll see you tonight at your seminar at that fancy country club. That’ll give you a few hours to think.”

Gary nodded to Werner, who vacuumed down what was left of his pie.

“Pick up the check, will you?” Gary said.

Charlie watched them leave. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled. How could he be so stupid? He’d been so full of himself lately that he’d forgotten what the world was really like. People like Sally Pope lived in Camelot, but he lived in the jungle, where he was prey and people like Gary and Werner were predators.

Are you out of your mind?” Moonbeam asked Charlie, who was in the bedroom of his hotel suite, killing time before the seminar at the Westmont Country Club by quick-drawing a Ruger.357 Magnum Vaquero revolver. The engraved, stainless steel, ivory-handled gun weighed more than two pounds, had a six-inch barrel, and was a gift from the twentysomething wife of a septuagenarian Texas oilman. She had given it to Charlie after a night of intimacy following an Inner Light” seminar in Austin.

“Relax, Moonbeam,” said Charlie, who almost choked whenever he used her “mystical” name.

When they were in New Haven, Charlie had told “Moonbeam” that she could come to Oregon with his entourage. Now he deeply regretted the words he’d moaned in the heat of passion and he had decided to dump her when they moved on. “Moonbeam” might be great in bed but the rest of the time she was a bossy pain in the ass. The broad had also shaved her head, because she’d concluded-for reasons Charlie never understood-that her hair was impeding her spiritual growth. Charlie was definitely not turned on by bald women and he’d said so.

“You’re an ex-con,” she persisted. “Having a gun violates the conditions of your parole. What if someone sees you?”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to carry in public? Delmar totes my piece when I’m out and about and he’s licensed to carry.”

Charlie’s bodyguard was slouched on the sofa reading a sports magazine with an NBA star on the cover.

“Haven’t you heard of the right to bear arms, bitch?” Delmar asked without looking up from the article he was reading. “Or didn’t you study the Constitution at your fancy Ivy League college?”

Before Moonbeam could answer, the door to the suite opened and a waiter rolled in a serving cart with Charlie’s dinner. Charlie froze in mid-draw. The waiter stared at the gun. Charlie whipped it behind his back.

“Don’t they teach you to knock?” he shouted at the flustered server.

“I’m sorry, sir. I did knock on the door to the suite. The man said I could…”

“Yeah, yeah, just leave it,” Charlie said. Mickey Keys was out in the sitting room. “Have my agent sign for this.”

“Thank you, sir,” the waiter said as he backed out of the bedroom.

“Have I made my point?” Moonbeam asked. “If he talks to your parole officer, you’ll be putting on your seminars for the prisoners at the state pen. And there’s something else. You have to stop sleeping with that woman.”

“Whoa, who I fuck is none of your business. I warned you I wasn’t a one-woman man when you insisted on following me out here.”

“I know, Charlie, but it doesn’t look good. She’s married and she has a kid, not to mention that her husband is a powerful politician who can seriously mess you up.”

“How do you think we got this gig at the Westmont? I’m just using her for her connections, baby. If you’re too jealous to see that, maybe you should just go back to your rich friends.”

Moonbeam looked frightened. “Don’t send me away, Charlie. I only want to help.”

“Well you’re not helping by nagging my ass every five minutes.”

Moonbeam moved close to Charlie. “I’m sorry. You know I’m just worried about you.”

Charlie felt the heat and remembered what the girl looked like naked, hair or no hair. He glanced at the clock and saw that there was still time before they had to leave for the country club. He put his arms around Moonbeam.

“I know you care about me, baby,” Charlie said in a voice that oozed concern. “Just don’t worry so much.”

Moonbeam looked down and Charlie lifted up her chin until he could see her eyes.

“You don’t have anything to worry about. Sally can’t touch you in bed, and that’s what counts between a man and a woman.”

Charlie released the girl’s chin. “Why don’t you take five, Delmar?” he said as he fondled her small, firm breasts.

The bodyguard looked at his watch. “We’re heading out in three quarters of an hour.”

“That’s cool. See you then.”

Delmar left. Charlie scooped up Moonbeam in his arms and carried her to the bed. His timing was perfect. When his bodyguard rapped on his door three quarters of an hour later, Charlie was refreshed, fed, and ready to bilk the members of the Westmont Country Club.

Shortly after sunset, on the evening Congressman Arnold Pope Jr. was murdered, Sally Pope stood next to John Walsdorf, the manager of the Westmont Country Club, and watched a line of expensive cars drive toward the entrance to the Westmont’s sprawling fieldstone clubhouse. The caravan snaked along a wide, tree-lined lane that ran by a few of the golf holes. There was no moon, so the lush emerald green of the fairways was left to the imagination.

Some of the cars turned left at the end of the lane and drove past the pro shop into the outdoor parking lot that bordered the driving range. The rest went right and discharged their passengers at the club entrance after circling a large grass turnaround decorated with flower beds. Illumination from the clubhouse spilled onto the turnaround, fading as it crossed to the far side.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Tony Rose asked Sally Pope just as the limousine carrying Charlie Marsh, Delmar Epps, Moonbeam, and Mickey Keys drove into view.

“Not now, Tony. I’m busy,” Sally said, annoyed that Rose would pick the moment when the guest of honor arrived to speak to her.

“When, then? We have to talk.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Sally whispered angrily. “And I don’t think hashing out any problem you might have in front of John would be a good idea, do you?”

Rose suddenly noticed Walsdorf, who had the power to fire him. Frustration and anger made his face flush. He started to speak, then thought better of it. The tennis pro shot Sally an angry look and walked toward the parking lot just as Charlie’s limousine stopped at the clubhouse entrance. The chauffeur ran to Charlie’s door. Before he could grip the handle, Werner Rollins stepped in front of him. The driver took one look at the Visigoth and skidded to a stop. This gave Gary Hass the opportunity to open the door to the limo.

“Hey, Charlie,” Gary said, flashing a wide smile.

Delmar Epps got out of the limo and put a hand on Gary’s chest.

“Step back, sir,” Charlie’s bodyguard commanded in his most intimidating tone. Werner started toward Delmar but Gary waved him off.

“I’m an old pal, right, Charlie?”

“It’s okay, Delmar,” Charlie answered nervously as he emerged from the car.

John Walsdorf was uncomfortable with activity that was far better suited to a lower-class tavern than a country club that catered to his refined clientele, but Sally Pope was unfazed. She walked over to the limousine, distracting the testosterone-charged men just as Mickey Keys emerged from the car. Keys took one look at Werner Rollins and edged away from him.