"You were mugged in the stairwell?"

"That's an accurate synopsis," he said gloomily. "There's no security in the hotel, and the mugger must have slipped in while our manager was away from the desk. I should have known better than to attempt to disarm the punk."

"But that doesn't explain why you were"-I struggled not to allow anything to creep into my voice-"found in Ruby Bee's bed without any clothes."

"No, it doesn't, but for that I have no explanation. I cannot imagine why the mugger wasted the time required to drag me in there, disrobe me, and then drop his weapon on the floor before fleeing. Miss Gebhearn, who was kind enough to escort me back here from the hospital, related what Ruby Bee told the police. It seems she'd just come into the room and switched on the light when she saw me. Before she could stop gasping, footsteps thundered down the hall and fists pounded on the door. Without thinking, she picked up the weapon off the floor, and as much to her surprise as that of the officers in the hall, it went off."

"It went off," I echoed numbly.

"It was unintentional, I'm sure, and the officers finally came to accept her version earlier this afternoon, after I'd told them my story concerning the mugger. They traced the weapon to a pawnshop in Harlem. There was no way she could have obtained the weapon, should she have desired to do so, and it was of very poor quality." He shook his head, as if depressed at the idea of being shot by a cheap gun. "Plastic, and with a loose trigger. What used to be called a Saturday Night Special, when in vogue. Now the children prefer more sophisticated weapons."

"Do the police have any theories how you ended up in Ruby Bee's room? Did you get a good enough look at this mugger to assist the police artist? Did you go through the mug shots? Were there any witnesses in the lobby when he ran out the door?"

"You sound like a cop."

"Probably because I am a cop."

"Are you now?" He held out his hand, and for a fleeting second of insanity, I thought he wanted to hold mine. I then realized he was offering to make me another drink, and I awkwardly gave him my glass. "That's very interesting," he murmured as he went to the desk. "Very, very interesting."

I wished I could see his face, but I couldn't. Not any more than I could interpret his tone of voice or stop myself from admiring the broadness of his shoulders. His hair brushed the back of his neck like dark, downy feathers.

I'd suspected as much, but now it was a certainty: Manhattan was too damn dangerous for the likes of me.

There was a gentle tap on the door. "Durmond?" called a woman's voice. "Are you awake?"

He handed me the drink, then opened the door. "Come in and join us, Geri. There's someone you might like to meet." He took her hand to usher her in, closed the door, and beamed at me as if I were a student who'd produced a clever answer. "This is Arly Hanks, Ruby Bee's daughter."

Geri wrinkled her nose at him. "Kyle's with me."

"Oops," Durmond said as he reopened the door. "Sorry about that, Kyle. Come have a drink with us."

The straggler came into the room and introductions were made. Both seemed uninterested, despite my self-perceived role as assailant's daughter.

"I'm so glad that you were able to come on such short notice," Geri said with a perfunctory smile, then opened her briefcase, took out some papers, and handed them to Durmond. "These are copies of the medical forms and insurance paperwork from the hospital. The Krazy KoKo-Nut Company will absorb all the cost, naturally. I cannot believe they're forcing us to use a hotel with absolutely no security. This is Manhattan, not some idyllic little suburb." She glared at her companion. "I assume you spoke to your father about all this?" Estelle's description of Kyle's ferrety face was accurate. He wasn't sending adoring looks at Geri, however, and he sounded miffed as he said, "I tried to call my father to tell him about the incident last night, but he wasn't in his room. I left a message with the desk. This hotel isn't my idea, either. It's a directive from Interspace Investments."

"This is not the time for excuses. Poor Durmond was shot and then subjected to…further indignities. If you cannot arrange for proper security, I'll do it myself!"

Kyle flushed. "Do you want me to rent a uniform and go stand by the door?"

"At least you'd be doing something useful, for a change." Geri sat down on the edge of the bed and began to sort through papers in her briefcase.

Durmond and I watched all this in silence. We even exchanged significant looks, although I had no idea what they signified. Kyle clearly had several retorts in mind, but after a moment of twitching his lips mutely, he leaned against the door and folded his arms.

"So the contest will continue?" I asked Geri.

"Yes. It's totally absurd, but the show will go on. My secretary"-she glanced at Kyle-"managed to touch base with my boss. He was displeased to hear what happened, but he was quite firm about our continuing here in the Bates Hotel."

Durmond put his hand on my shoulder, which sent off all kinds of adolescent fireworks-invisible, I hoped. "You'll need to find a room for Arly. I'm sure she's thrilled at the opportunity to watch the Krazy KoKo-Nut cookoff in all its flaky splendor."

"Flaky is right," Geri said grimly. She slammed closed the briefcase and consulted her watch. "I'll go downstairs in a minute and speak to Rick. I'm quite sure Krazy KoKo-Nut will be delighted to provide the salary for a temporary doorman, should Rick resist, as well as a room for you, Arly. And please forgive me-I'm not at all like this usually. But less than a week ago the account was literally thrown onto my desk, and then I was assigned to work with someone who has no experience in promo, and my boss is being as beastly as Scotty Johanson, and Mother's livid because I-" She broke off as tears began to wobble down her cheeks. Seconds later, she was sobbing and the rest of us were patting her on the back and murmuring inanities. Even the broody Buddha relented and sat beside her, cradling her hand and sounding quite as ineffectual as Durmond and I.

It fit perfectly into the lunatic scenario. I wouldn't have been surprised if Mrs. Jim Bob, Brother Verber, and Mr. and Mrs. Kevin Buchanon marched into the room and announced they were planning a ménage à quatre in the next room. Oh, to be in lazy, hazy Maggody, where nothing ever happened.

Brother Verber stumbled along the side of the road, singing "Onward, Christian Soldiers" as best he could, considering he couldn't rightly recall the words. He couldn't rightly recall why he was doing it, for that matter, but he was having a splendid time, The night was balmy, the stars glittery, the world bathed in a most lovely glow of goodwill to all men.

And to all women, he corrected himself with a hiccup. Goodwill to all women, including Sister Barbara Ann Buchanon Buchanon Buchanon, or something like that. Why, if she should pop out from behind a tree, he'd just throw his arms around her and tell her what a perfect saint she was, from her halo straight down to her trim ankles.

He lurched to a stop at the edge of the highway. After several minutes of making real sure there was no car or truck bearing down, he started across the road, then paused on the yellow stripe to think whereall he was going.

It came to him like a bolt of lightning from the Almighty Hisself. There was no doubtin' this kind of divine inspiration. No doubtin' and no disobeyin'. The Almighty thought he should go right over to Sister Barbara's house and tell her what a saint she was and beg her to join him on her knees in a prayer of thanksgiving for the miracle of creation.