He grabbed Charlie by hair and crotch. Swung him around four times. The guitar case sailed out and crashed on a car. A woman screamed. Andy timed his release of Charlie to take him into the brick wall of the Golden Bear. Leaned back, bent his knees, and let go. Charlie hit hard, a bug on a windshield. Then crunched to the parking lot cursing quietly.

“Oh wow,” said one of the Black fans.

“Is he all right?” asked another.

Andy lost his balance when he let go of Manson. Next thing he knew Lynette had a hold of his arm and was pulling him across the parking lot. Cars wobbling around him. Faces in a swirl. Moon zigging and zagging with each step, stars flying like mosquitoes.

“That’s a badass dude,” she said. “He’s done time and he’s got friends.”

“Bring ’em on.”

“Oh man, there’s the pigs. Andy, stand up! My car’s right across the street.”

The last thing Andy remembered seeing that night was the green shag carpet of Lynette’s living room rising up to meet him.

AT QUARTER TO TEN the next morning he was standing outside the professional visits door at the Orange County jail. He stank and his clothes were wrinkled and he had the worst hangover of his life.

He fumbled a fresh roll of film into his Leica. Checked his watch. Felt the steady pounding in his head. Each throb capped with a high-pitched ping like a blacksmith’s hammer ringing off an anvil. Couldn’t believe Teresa. Couldn’t believe he’d thrown a tiny folksinger against the wall of the Golden Bear. Relieved he hadn’t slept with Lynette, though not exactly sure why he was relieved.

At ten sharp Howard Langton came walking up. It took Andy a second to make him. A baseball cap pulled down low and sunglasses and a big varsity jacket. Shoulders hunched up, head pointed straight ahead at the entrance.

Andy raised the Leica, dialed the coach into focus, and shot. The flash made Langton flinch. He stopped completely and his mouth opened. Andy shot him again. Talked with the camera still to his face and his left hand keeping the focus good and his right finger clicking away.

“Coach Langton, were you at the Boom Boom Bungalow the night of the murder?”

“What the…Andy?”

“Andy Becker, Orange County Journal. Is it true that a witness has placed you at the Boom Boom murder scene?”

“I don’t…there’s no way…I can’t talk to you. Don’t take pictures! That’s absolutely-”

“Coach Langton, were you at the Boom Boom Bungalow that night or weren’t you?”

“I never even saw Adrian Stalling!”

“But were you there?”

“I was there but…that’s missing the whole goddamned point!”

Langton came at him fast. Compact, muscular, balanced. Andy swung open the professional visits door, knowing the sign-in deputy would be there. Shot another picture of the coach as he saw the uniform just inside the door.

Langton stopped again. The deputy looked at him, then at Andy.

“Press isn’t supposed to be here,” he said. “Get out of here, Andy. They’re expecting you, Mr. Langton.”

Langton stood there, just a few feet shy of the open door. Like a guy stuck in a nightmare where he can’t move, thought Andy. Only worse because this isn’t a dream.

“Don’t write about this until it’s over,” said Langton.

“Why not?”

“It’s all a big mistake. You just don’t see it yet.”

“See what?”

“You don’t understand. It’s for your own good, Andy. Don’t write. Don’t run pictures. I’m telling you not to do it. For your family and yourself.”

“Got it,” said Andy.

“No, I can see you don’t.”

Andy shot one more picture. Let go of the door and trotted back out to the parking lot. The Leica strap jerked with each step and Andy held the camera to ease the great percussions pulsing through his head. Made no difference at all.

HE SHOWERED and shaved at the family house in Tustin. Monika made him a big lunch while he told her what had happened. His heart ached more now than in the Seven Seas parking lot. Monika said that things always happened for a reason.

Driving away, Andy thought of Meredith. Remembered that Thanksgiving with the Vonns. How absolutely he had loved her, then didn’t. How he’d left her to see more of the world and write about it. Traded her for Seven Seas time. It pleased him that she had gotten what she wanted, the husband and the children and the house.

He turned up the radio and gunned the Corvair down Fourth Street.

He was at his desk at the Journal by noon. Three phone message slips that Teresa had called. He whisked them into his trash basket and called the Laguna cops.

Andy’s buddy at the LBPD told him strictly off the record that Langton had been picked in the lineup. They were set to talk to him again this afternoon. They weren’t in any hurry because Langton wasn’t a flight risk. Family man fooling around at the Boom Boom, heh-heh.

Andy’s former best Sheriff’s Department source wouldn’t tell him anything at all.

Next he called David. Asked him what he knew about Howard Langton and the Boom Boom Bungalow on the night Janelle was killed.

David told him what he’d said before. That he and Barbara and the Langtons had been invited to dinner by Janelle. Then the dinner had been postponed by Janelle for nonspecific reasons. David believed that the Langtons had stayed home that night, but wasn’t sure because he’d been with Barbara and the children.

“A witness has put him at the Boom Boom Bungalow later that night,” said Andy. “I saw Langton at the jail about forty minutes ago and guess what?”

“I’d rather not.”

“He admitted it.”

A silence.

“Did he say anything about it to you?” asked Andy.

“I just told you no. It was my belief he spent the evening at home with Linda.”

Teresa appeared in the entrance to his cubicle. He saw the tender fear in her eyes. Swung around in his chair, gave her his back.

“I have to lead with Langton’s admission,” he said to his brother.

“Lead with what you have to, Andy. Did you take pictures of him, too?”

“Yep.”

“Heaven help Coach Howard,” David said softly. “He’s supposed to be innocent until proven guilty.”

“He is, David. And he also just admitted being at the scene of an unsolved murder. Maybe he could think about doing his civic duty and stepping forward with what he knows.”

“I guess he’ll have to do just that.”

“Is Howard a homo?”

“Why would he be?”

“The Boom Boom Bungalow is a homo bar and motel.”

“I didn’t know that. I do know Howard’s got a wonderful family.”

Andy hung up and swung back to Teresa.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“I’ve got a story to write. Give me half an hour.”

“This can’t wait.”

“Sure it can. Check-in time at the Seven Seas isn’t until what, two o’clock?”

ON NICK’S FIRST morning home he had breakfast with his family. He felt weak and disconnected. And grateful for every moment of life that buzzed around him.

He glanced at the Friday Journal while Willie and Katherine argued over the last of the Sugar Spangled Rice Krinkles. Katy lectured Stevie for prying the trim off the new Frigidaire again. Everyone tried to keep their voices down out of respect for Nick’s scrape with death.

“I told you not to hang on the refrigerator, Stevie.”

“I was only trying to get the juice, Mom.”

Nick was surprised to read that Howard Langton had been questioned by Laguna PD in connection with the killing at the Boom Boom Bungalow. Andy’s story and pictures. According to the article, Howard had admitted to the Journal being at the Boom Boom Bungalow that night. No comment from LBPD or OCSD. No comment from Howard, except Andy’s quoted “I was, but…”

Nick remembered Howard’s alibi and Linda’s shaky corroboration. Thought it was bogus then. Knew it was bogus now, if Howard Langton was really fagging around at the Boom Boom Bungalow. Wouldn’t that be something, to question a guy for one murder and he gets nailed for another? The picture made Howard look furtive and hapless, with the hat pulled down and the dark glasses.