As she rides by

borrowed for my first (and only) trip out to the car, which happened at eight o’clock precisely, and from the kitchen door, the one nearest the carport. In one hand I held a large map, at which I was peering, in the other my airline bag, in which my firearm nestled. I climbed into the Mercedes and started it up, checking that all of the doors were firmly locked. Although, as I have mentioned, the car windows were all heavily tinted, making it almost impossible to get a good look inside, I was nervous. I had well over an hour’s drive ahead of me, and anything could happen during that time, including the worst happening of all—nothing. If Phil and Ted didn’t show up hot on the trail, just to make sure Phineas—who I devoutly hoped they would believe was at the wheel and not V. Daniel— really was heading for the bounding main, then I would be up another body of water, one familiarly known as Shit Creek.
    I headed down Pamela the opposite way from the direction I (Phineas) would take if I were going into town. By the time I was halfway down Lexington , I breathed a sigh of relief, because there they were, in a late-model Ford, tucked in comfortably some fifty yards behind me. At least, I hoped it was them. When they followed me through the jog onto Sunset, I was pretty well sure.
    After a half hour of Sunset’s gentle curves and slopes I began to relax somewhat as the boys kept their distance and apparently were intent on merely seeing me gently on my merry way, as it were, which was fine by me. Terrific, in fact. The famed Sunset Strip comes to an end when it runs into the Pacific Coast Highway, along which I headed westward, past Topanga Beach, then past Las Tunas Beach, which, for those of you who go for chunks of old marble without arms, is near the J. Paul Getty museum. A jog inland, then one to the left, then a last one to the left again brought me neatly to the start of the newly graveled, hilly, winding, private road that, three and a half miles farther on, finished up chez the Lew Lewellens’ uncompleted money-devourer; just to have the road repaired must have cost a fortune.
    I breathed a second sigh of relief when the boys turned in after me, making no attempt to stay out of sight; why should they bother? The third sigh came when I saw that there was, indeed, no gate that had to be opened or lifted or whatever, meaning I would not have to get out of the car to do so, and even if Phil and Ted were from Pittsburgh they could still spot the difference between me and Phineas at twenty paces m bright sunlight, even if I did adopt a slinky walk.
    Down the narrow road I went. Down they followed. The problem was, I wanted to get them as far away from the courthouse downtown as I could, but still leave them enough time, on paper, that is, to be able to make it comfortably back there before noon. As it wasn’t quite ten yet, and as they could pick up the Ventura Freeway just up north a bit, then switch to the Hollywood Freeway and thus be downtown in an hour or so, I figured I’d gotten things about right. So far.
    After a while I eased my weapon out of the airline bag, then checked it out. Then I took off the cap, the dark glasses, and wriggled out of my sweatsuit top. The weapon went into the small of my back, between skin and pant; I knew it would stay there, at least for a while, because I’d tied my pant strings particularly tight for just that purpose, and also I’d tried it out in my room earlier. As a last touch, just to make myself look even more inoffensive, I pushed up the trouser bottoms up to my knees, like old fogies do to go wading. It was only a minute or two after that when I pulled up in front of the Lewellens’ weekend retreat-to-be, and, as Mrs. Lew had told me, it was still mainly an architect’s doodle, there were the waist-high stone walls she’d mentioned, a couple of aluminum window frames and one door frame in position, and that was about it.
    Well. I’d parked the car so it was facing the way I’d driven in, so when I got out, with a welcome stretch, I didn’t have to do any acrobatics to keep my backside hidden from the boys, who pulled up a couple of minutes later. I wondered briefly what’d kept them. Nerves, maybe, thus a quick pee. And, toting my bag, out I got immediately, in case they figured they’d done enough and took off without a playful word of farewell or one loving, backward glance.
    I stretched again, and swung the bag in a carefree fashion. Out of the