Dating Is Murder

Car One’s doors opened and men got out, five of them, and walked back to Car Two. They opened the doors of Car Two, driver’s side and passenger’s side. Frito called to me, his accent heavy. “Mrs. Qui

There was a movement, and a sound like a crack, like a tree limb breaking.

I hit the ground.

People piled on top of me like I was a football.

41

It was three days later.

I pulled into a parking lot in Woodland Hills, the north end of a dog park. I rolled down the windows and checked my watch. Almost noon. Twenty-four and a half shopping days till Christmas.

“We’re early,” Joey said. “By six minutes. Even with you driving.”

I’d picked up Joey at a car dealer’s in Oxnard, on my way home from Santa Barbara. Joey had sold the BMW. The paparazzo-plumber’s dent had shown Elliot the wisdom of unloading his car before his wife could add more miles or damage. We’d been listening to a news update of planes grounded in Honolulu, damaged by volcanic ash. I turned off the radio.

“I’m nervous, Joey,” I said. “Why would I be this nervous?”

We waited.

Four minutes later a Range Rover pulled into the lot, drove past us, and parked six or seven empty spaces away. Nobody got out.

One minute after that, another car showed up and parked near the entrance. Joey whistled. “Nice wheels.”

“It’s the cheap Bentley,” I said.

“Ready?” Joey said.

“No,” I said.

The passenger door of the Bentley opened. A

I opened my door and started to call to her, but she was already ru

I hugged her back, smiling so hard my face felt stretched. How tiny she was, hardly bigger than Ruby, my almost-stepdaughter. I could feel her ribs shaking through her leather jacket and I was about to tell her I didn’t understand German, but then I realized she was crying and that whatever she was saying wouldn’t be any more coherent in English.

A door of the Range Rover opened, then slammed shut.

A

Grammy Qui

A

A

How had I ever believed this girl to be a depressed, drug-abusing teen? It had been so easy for Maizie to plant the evidence and to plant the story in my head. She’d have done the same for anyone who came looking for A

I looked back at the Bentley. Simon Alexander was leaning against it, watching me. The last time I’d seen him was three nights ago, outside the Qui

“He’s really tall, isn’t he?” Joey said, from inside the car. “Good luck.”

I glanced back at Lupe and Grammy Qui

“Hello, Wollie.”

I nodded toward the playground. “So she’s okay? A

“She’s fine. Excited to be here. Thawing out from two weeks in Mi

“And her mother?”

“Touring Beverly Hills at the moment, with Esterbud. So far, the mother likes Mi

I watched the progression to the playground halt, while Emma and A

“A

“Congratulations on Big Fish,” I said. It had made the front page of the Los Angeles Times, Vladimir Tcheiko, drug lord, recaptured. A shining example of cooperation among several branches of federal and local law enforcement agencies.

“Condolences on Biological Clock,” he said.

The show, to no one’s surprise, had gone under.

I nodded. “I think I was really only in it for the health-care coverage. Now I have to go find a real job.” I looked at my feet. “Would you have voted for me? In the contest?”

“No.”

I looked up. “That’s awfully… unequivocal.”

“Think I want to see you pregnant with another man’s child?”

“Oh. Well, put like that…” I didn’t mention the show’s disclaimer, how none of the contestants were required to have sex.

My brush with celebrity, in any case, would never have rivaled Maizie Qui

“You’re not getting any better at returning calls, are you?” he said. “Three days, Wollie?”

“I was catching up on sleep. I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to say ‘Stay away from Maizie Qui

“No. You don’t discuss an operation with a civilian.”

“See, that’s what I love about the federal government. That spirit of ope

Simon turned suddenly, looking at my car. “That’s Joey, isn’t it? Wait here.” He walked to it and talked to Joey through the passenger window. They shook hands. Then he reached into his pocket and handed her a set of car keys.

My heart started to pound. I thought I’d been doing well, but now I saw I’d overestimated my composure. Simon came back to me, his long stride slow and relaxed. My heart beat faster. “What was that all about?” I said.

“Joey’s going to drive my car to her house. I’ll pick it up later. Come on, let’s walk.”

“How will you get to Joey’s house? To pick it up?”

“I have an agent standing by, for A

“Oh.” My heart rate returned to normal.

“This creates an interesting problem, though,” he said. “I’m in violation of FBI regulations prohibiting a nonagent from driving an agency car. I’ve never done this. No agent does this. It’s like giving up your gun.”

I stared at him.

“Now,” he said, “if I catch a ride with Agent Beggs in her Chevy Monte Carlo, Agent Beggs is going to wonder why. I can’t lie. I can’t ask her to lie. This violation could come to light. I could even be unemployed by the end of the day.”

“Unless?” I said.

“You give me a ride. It’s all in your hands.”

My heart rate sped up again.

Twenty yards ahead of us, Emma and A