Laura left to greet some new arrivals, and I got me a second rum and Coke from the dreamy kid behind the bar. One of the couples I hadn't met came up and we all introduced ourselves.

His name was William Brevoort ("Just call me Willie!") and she was Jessica Fiddler, a real model type, tall and blond, but kind of hard-looking if you know what I mean. They seemed to be close friends, but I didn't get the feeling they were making it together.

They were really good company, just as friendly as they could be.

Jessica was wearing one of those sequined sheaths from Hashbeam's that I loved but couldn't get into, and Willie had on a plaid silk sport coat with lime green slacks. We talked clothes just to break the ice, you know-and then Brevoort asked, "What does your husband do, Mabel?"

"He's a research chemist," I said. "He invents new drugs and things like that."

"No kidding?" he said. "What a coincidence. I'm in the pharmaceutical line myself. I'd like to talk to him. Is he here?"

"Should be along soon," I said. "I'll make sure you meet.

Jessica, who does your hair? It's beautiful."

"Thank you," she said, "but the fall isn't mine." She added, "Willie lent it to me," and we all laughed.

I saw Greg come through the door, and I went over and grabbed his arm.

He was wearing his old threepiece navy blue suit like he had just been confirmed. in that flashy crowd my poor hubby looked like a sorry-assed refugee from Lower Slobbovia.

I got him a drink and brought him over to meet Jessica and Willie. We chatted of this and that for a while, and then Jessica drew me away to the food table where Laura had just put out a big platter of boiled shrimp with a fancy plastic toothpick stuck in each one. When I looked back, Willie was talking a mile a minute to Greg, and I guessed they were talking business, which men like to do at parties.

After a while Greg came over to where I was standing with Jessica and took one shrimp.

"Enjoying the party, Mr. Barrow?" Jessica asked.

"Very nice," he said. "I wish I could stay, but I'm afraid I've got to get back to work."

"You just got here," I protested. "Stay a little while longer.

Jessica, you hang onto him while I get him another drink."

A lot more people had arrived, and the bar was mobbed. It must have been five minutes before I could get back to Greg. He was still talking to Jessica and had a funny look on his face. I thought maybe she had told him a dirty joke. My husband doesn't like dirty jokes.

Jessica smiled and moved away when I came back. "Hope we meet again, Greg," she said. "Don't work too hard."

I handed him his drink. "Isn't she pretty?" I said.

"Yes," he said. "Very. Listen, Mabel, I'm going to finish this and then I've really got to go. You stay as long as you like. Don't worry about making dinner. Maybe we'll go out tonight. You're all dressed up, so we'll go someplace nice."

"You like my new dress?" I asked, twirling so he could see it back and front.

"I do," he said, smiling. "I really do. just don't take a deep breath."

I was sort of stuck with him, which I suppose is a mean thing to say, but you don't go to a party to associate with your husband. Secretly I was glad when he finished his drink and said he had to get back to the lab.

He kissed my cheek. "Have a good time, Mabel," he said.

And after he left, I did.

This was serious business. Jessica and Laura and TI agreed on that.

I mean we had all pulled small cons, penny-ante scams, the badger game, maybe rolling a drunk now and then. And we had all been in the skin trade. Been busted, did time. But that was two-bit stuff compared to ripping off the ZAP pill. Big money was involved here, and we all knew it.

"We got two problems," I told the ladies. "How to glom on to that pill, and how to keep Big Bobby Gurk away from our throats." Mcwhortle had I said I had told Gurk that Marvin croaked and the deal was dead.

But I wasn't sure Big Bobby bought it, and we had to figure he was still interested. if he ever found out we had the pill an had double-X'd him, he'd come looking for us.

"Yeah," Laura said. "The guy's a slob, but he's a heavy slob-dangerous.

He's still porking me every now and then. My heart really isn't in it, but I'm afraid to dump him, he might get physical.

Also, by letting him jump my bones, I can keep an eye on him, and maybe find out if he's got something nasty on his mind.

"Okay, " I said, "you keep tabs on Gurk. That leaves the job of getting the pill. I checked out the address of Mabel Barrow and scammed her kid, a boy named Chet. He told me his pop is named Gregory, and he's a chemist who works at Mcwhortle Laboratory. So that confirms what the old man told you, Jess.

Now we got to finagle a way to meet this Gregory and see how we can turn him."

We discussed a dozen different scenarios, but nothing clicked until I hit on the scheme of Laura throwing a cocktail party at her condo.

She'd invite her best customers, including Mabel Barrow, and tell them all to bring their husband or boyfriend.

Jess and I would be there and make a move on Gregory.

"I like it," Jessica said. "Maybe he'll get sloshed, which will make him easy meat for a come-on."

"Before you do anything," I said, "let me have a crack at him. He might be suffering from the shorts and ready to peddle the pill for cash. If I strike out, then you take over."

Laura said, "The only thing that bothers me about this party idea is what do we do if Bobby Gurk shows up unexpectedly. He might meet Gregory Barrow, and that could queer the whole deal."

"You could invite him," Jess suggested, "and then keep him so busy he doesn't have a chance to meet anyone.

"Invite him?" Laura said indignantly. "I wouldn't invite that bum to a funeral-unless it was his own."

But she finally agreed to go along with the party after I said I'd pick up the tab for the booze and food. Listen, it takes money to make money, everyone knows that.

We went over our plan again and again until we had it choreographed down to the smallest detail, like what Jessica would wear and how Laura would tip off the hired bartender to slug Gregory Barrow's drinks.

It was a good plot and it should have worked. But it didn't, and I began to wonder if The Luck had deserted me.

First of all, the chemist showed up late, stayed about an hour, and then took off. I don't think he had had more than two drinks, and they didn't help us a bit. Jess and I met him all right-for all the good it did us. He wasn't a badlooking guy, but he dressed like a zombie and wore brown shoes with a navy blue suit. Beautiful. I think maybe he smiled twice.

The party lasted until about six o'clock. Finally, everyone was gone, including the bartender, and we were left with the mess to clean up.

But before we did that, we slumped in chairs, shared a joint, and tried to figure out what had gone wrong.

"The guy's a straight-arrow," I complained. "I think he bought my story of being in the drug biz, but he wasn't giving anything away. I as much as told him he was in a position to make big bucks if he'd be willing to share some of Mcwhortle's trade secrets. He looked at me like he was ready to phone the FBI.

Listen, I've been clipping gulls all my life, and mostly you get to them through their greed. But this Barrow acted like he couldn't care less about gelt. And as for screwing dear old Mcwhortle Laboratory, forget it. I tell you the man's a fucking Boy Scout. He's not going, to hand over that testosterone pill for love or money. Leastwise not for money.

Jess, how did you make out in the love department?"

The folding bar was still in place, and a lot of the booze I had bought was still there. Jessica went over and poured a Chivas for Laura, a Sterling for herself, and a glass of club soda for me.