Double Take

the engine, and looked around. “Another big spread. I guess the psychic business is thriving.”
    Julia said, “Oh yes. Atherton is one of the biggest hubs of conspicuous consumption in the Bay Area. Soldan used to have a Spanish-style hacienda, then moved two blocks and went Oriental.”
    Cheney looked at the long, single-story house, solid windows all along the front, bonsai trees thick on the ground, crowding close to the house. “Is the guy married? Any children hanging around?”
    “I don’t know about kids, though there maybe a former wife. A couple of months ago I heard a woman moved in, but I don’t know anything about her. I sure hope he’s here, Cheney. It’s late. Maybe this time we should have called.”
    “Nah, a surprise visit you never know what’s gonna pop. Look, there are some lights on at the end of the house.”
    They walked along a flagstone path lined with Japanese-garden-style bushes and flowers. There was a double front door lacquered glossy black with shiny gold dragon’s-head doorknobs, flanked by a pair of huge Asian stone statues, too dark to tell any detail. Cheney pressed his finger against a dragon’s snout and heard the bell chime some creepy music from that old Bela Lugosi film Son of Frankenstein.
    “Maybe the guy’s a warlock too.”
    There was no answer for perhaps a minute, then came the sound of mules flapping up and down on tile. The door was opened by a woman wearing a very low cut frothy peach peignoir that floated around her ankles. She looked, Cheney realized, with those prodigious breasts framed by silk and feathers, like a saloon girl from a western movie, a little over the hill, a little too much makeup, but authentic enough, at least TV authentic.
    Cheney said, “Hello. This is Julia and I’m Cheney. We’re here to see Soldan. Is he available?”
    “You look familiar,” the woman said to Julia. “You don’t, sir. It’s after nine o’clock. At night. What do you want? Soldan is tired. We don’t see uninvited visitors. Besides, I don’t like the look of either of you.” She stared at Julia. “Yeah, you do look familiar. Is there a reason I don’t like you?”
    Cheney smiled at the woman; she looked like she could shoot them both, then blow the smoke off the end of her six-shooter and toss back a shot of straight whisky. “We’re harmless. Actually, maybe you have met Julia. She’s Julia Ransom, Dr. August Ransom’s widow. And I am Cheney Stone, FBI. We won’t take up much of Soldan’s time. And who are you?”
    “You’re sounding all chummy, aren’t you now? I’m thinking you’re the best-looking paid federal assassin I’ve ever seen. Fact is, you probably make use of being gorgeous, don’t you, makes it easier for you to flimflam innocent women like me.”
    “Nah,” Cheney said. “They don’t pay me that much.”
    “A federal assassin making jokes—you’re smart too, but really not that funny.”
    “Who are you?” Julia asked.
    “I’m Sol’s mother. Okay, okay, you got me. Obviously I’m far too young and beautiful to be his mother. I’m Sol’s sister—younger sister. Hey, I bet if I don’t let you in, you’ll pull a gun and force your way in. Isn’t that what you secret fed enforcers do?”
    ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what we do,” and Cheney showed her his SIG on the clip at his waist.
    For the first time, Cheney saw a flash of genuine alarm in her eyes, though it was hard to tell since she was wearing so much eyeliner. She held out her hands in front of her, to ward him off. “Don’t you dare! All right, come in, I’ll warn Sol.” She gave Julia a dismissive look. “Shame on you, plastering your plain face all over the TV news.” And she sashayed away, clip-clopping on the three-inch peach satin mules.
    Cheney said, “Look how that silky thing floats around her as she walks. If she weren’t so scary, it’d be sexy. Is she really his younger sister?”
    “Why not? Don’t you know? After all, you’re the federal hired gun.”
    They walked down a wide long hallway that ran the full length of the house. The front was all glass windows, with a series of open rooms to their left, and a line of translucent shoji screens covered in rice paper that slid shut to provide privacy. The screens were all at half-mast now. He could see into the rooms, decorated with Asian statuary, from small naked bronze boys to three-foot stone gods. A huge gong that looked to be as ancient as the goddess sitting next to it was