As she rides by

is,” Mel said, “a restraining order can be issued ex parte.”
    “Really!”
    “Which means,” he said patiently, “that the guys being restrained don’t have to be present at the hearing or even be told that one is going on. Obviously, the guys are going to have to be told sooner or later, because they have the right to defend their position at the injunction hearing.”
    “Ah so,” I said. “Live and learn, eh. Listen, Mel, what sort of thing could we base an application for a temporary restraining order on, I wonder?”
    “Grounds,” my pal said.
    “I once knew a girl called Melody,” I mused. “Her coffee was grounds for divorce.”
    “Patent infringement,” Mel said. “Unfair labor practices. Interference with interstate trade. Environmental, such as noxious emissions— maybe we could try that.”
    I grinned.
    “Any endangered species involved?” he went on. “That’s a good one these days.”
    “Only winos,” I said. “But who knows, maybe some rare moth lives there, although from the state of the place it’d more likely be a killer mutant. Don’t tell me—I’ll check it out, just in case. What about moral grounds, Mel, or religious? Like, could someone put up a porno house right next to a church?”
    “Dunno,” he said. “Interesting. But not relevant in your case, as there is no church next door.”
    “Ah,” I said. “But what if I write off to one of those mail-order churches and send my twenty-five bucks or whatever it is, then in a week I’m a bona-fide, legal minister who can marry and everything, then all I do is put a sign up on the door saying I’m a church, and I’d be a church, wouldn’t I?”
    “Brilliant,” Mel said. “I suppose you would, legally. There’s only one thing—they came first. They didn’t put up a porno house next to a church, you—for your own good reasons, no doubt—elected to start a church next to a porno-house-to-be. Which may not be a bad idea, but what happens to your grounds for objecting to their presence is, they have vanished. They could probably sue you for trying to bring some godliness and decency to the neighborhood.” I grinned again. “Anyway, my friend, you know enough about the law to realize this—avoid it whenever possible, because it is expensive. To hit ‘em with a writ or two, all right, I’ve got the affidavits and could fill ‘em in while you’re buying me supper some night, and not at that cheap Italian joint, either, but you are talking complicated here, you are talking State Supreme Court shit. So you either have very firm grounds for such an objection or you try plan two.”
    “What’s that, oh wise one?”
    “Move to a new office,” he said. “I did; why can’t you?” With which he hung up, and after which, so did I.
    “Never,” I told King. “We shall not be moved. We will fight to the last man and final faithful companion.” The dog opened one eye, yawned, then closed it again; he was obviously going to be a big help. As it turned out, he was. Ha ha. Now read on.

Chapter Two o

    ... Once in a while I buy a beer for the fat bartender;
    Once in a while the fat bartender does the same for me.

    I t was closer to six than five when we turned right off Laurel Canyon Drive and chugged up Wonderland Park Avenue to 8751, wherein dwelt Rick and whatever pretty lady he was hankeying and pankeying with at the moment. There was just enough room for me to tuck my beloved Nash in behind a gorgeous Mercedes coupe, which was parked in front of a rented Ford, which was parked beside Rick’s huge, battered old ‘66 Pontiac. Rick’s place looked like a tree house—six-sided, made of stained wood and glass with a wooden balcony running all around it, and set in and overhung by pines. In said trees, what was left of the local squirrel population that hadn’t been slaughtered by his bloodthirsty cat—amusingly called Fido—frolicked watchfully.
    Sounds of music and merriment emanated from the abode as King on his leash and I made our way up the winding wooden steps to the door. Before I could knock, it was thrown open by my pal Rick. I was still recoiling from the cloud of reefer smoke that immediately swirled out of the room at me when Rick fell on his knees, then rolled over on his back, crying, “And who is this canine beauty? And where did you come from, you dog, you?” King, of course, began licking his face madly. “No, no, not that!” Rick pleaded. “Mercy, mercy! Not the death of a