The Night Crew

the spent shells.
    ‘‘How much longer are you going to do this?’’
    ‘‘I’m done,’’ she said. ‘‘I could use a beer.’’
    As they walked back to the house, he said, ‘‘I don’t want to seem impolite, you know, but hanging around you for the last couple of days . . .’’
    ‘‘Yeah?’’
    ‘‘Anna . . . I’m getting fairly desperate.’’ His voice was convincing.
    ‘‘I think we can fix that,’’ she said. And she looked around, at the hillside, the house, the perfect blue sky, ‘‘And it’s such a nice day for it.’’ And they did fix it, and more than once; but the second time they made love, as Harper began to lose himself in her . . . Anna looked up at the ceiling and saw the holes the bullets had punched in the gully-wall, and instead of thinking of the man with her then, she thought of the man last night.
    And she thought again, Gonna get you .

nineteen

    Harper was driving, down the narrow canyon road, through the night, occasional snapshots of the L.A. lights ahead of them. He was not happy with the trip: he wanted to spend the evening at his house, but Anna was going hunting, with or without him.
    ‘‘BJ’s: that was the only time Jason and MacAllister were hooked into me, so the guy must’ve been at the party.’’
    ‘‘No,’’ Harper said, shaking his head. ‘‘You don’t know how many times they told that story.’’
    ‘‘What’s the point of telling it if nobody sees the woman? It’s no big deal being in a three-way anymore, you can get one for fifty bucks down on the strip.’’
    ‘‘Really?’’ He pretended to perk up.
    She ignored it: ‘‘. . . so I figure what happened is, I show up at the party, ask around for him, he’s a little unhappy when I blow him off—he was really a mess, but he thought he could still do it, he needed the money—and so he starts spreading this story with his pal. Whoever it is saw me, and heard the story. Had to be.’’
    ‘‘Doesn’t have to be.’’
    She sighed: ‘‘Okay. Not technically: but that’s all I’ve got, and I’m going with it.’’ The party box was running hard. Anna led the way up the narrow, smoke-filled stairway, the buzz-cut hulk at the door looking past her at Harper. When Harper looked up at him, he stepped out of sight into the party room, and a moment later stepped back out; Anna realized that a warning was now rippling through the room—Harper had been taken for a cop.
    The hulk was a redneck, a southern kid with a layer of hard fat in his face and under his Eat More Spam t-shirt. He nodded vaguely at Anna and said to Harper with a thin, sarcastic edge, ‘‘We’re checking IDs, officer.’’
    Harper smiled a cop smile at him and said, ‘‘I’m proud of you.’’
    ‘‘Have you got a warrant?’’
    Harper opened his mouth, but Anna cut in: ‘‘He’s not a cop. Not anymore.’’
    The hulk was doubtful: ‘‘So what’s he want? He don’t fit here.’’
    ‘‘He’s taking care of me,’’ Anna said. ‘‘Do you know Jason O’Brien and Sean MacAllister?’’
    A spark of interest lit in the hulk’s eyes: ‘‘I heard they’re dead.’’
    ‘‘That’s right. Now the guy who killed them is coming after me. We’re trying to find out who it is.’’
    The hulk’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about it, and then he said, ‘‘You know who’d know? Trip what’s-his-face. He hung with. The guy . . . hang on one second.’’
    He stepped out of sight again, and a moment later was back: ‘‘Come on,’’ he said.
    Harper looked at Anna and showed a quarter-inch of a smile: he’d caught the warning move, and now the cancellation.
    The party room was actually four rooms: a bar area, a large tiled dance room, and two smaller rooms at the sides, with rickety plastic lawn tables and chairs. All four rooms stank of tobacco smoke, and an edge of something sharper: crack, Anna thought. No grass; this club was a little harder than a pothead might want.
    The population dressed in black, both male and female. Harper, with his blue shirt and sport coat, looked like he’d just arrived from Iowa. The hulk led them to the second room, spotted a thin man in a black mock turtle, with oval gold-rimmed glasses, and held up a finger. The man tipped his head and the hulk led them over.
    ‘‘This is a TV lady, used to work with Jason O’Brien.’’
    ‘‘Anna,’’ the man said. He smiled quickly, a click onandoff, showing a couple of pointy canine teeth. He