Selma. She shook her head and turned away.

How she remembered those road maps! Otto and she would sit on the couch nights and study the maps, talking about trips they’d take someday. Schumacher never took her on any of those trips, but he’d talk about them often, and Selma was sure he meant to take her away someday, to drive along the highways through different states, and to see all the points of interest that were marked on the maps. And Selma had liked the planning ahead; she had felt comfortable sitting on the couch there with old Otto.

“What’s eating you?” Catell said.

“Nothing.”

Selma bent her head so Catell couldn’t see her eyes. She felt terribly alone and wished she could cry out, weep.

“Do something with your hair, kid. Those curls are coming down,” Catell said.

“It’s the damp, honey. I’m sorry.”

“Well, fix it. We’re almost there.”

The taxi had swung off Woodward, out toward the country. A garish neon sign came closer, off to the right of the highway. It said, “Paar Excellence,” first in red, then in pink, then in blue, and finally all together—red, pink, blue.

“Get happy, kid. Here we are.” Catell straightened his tie.

The Paar Excellence had two sections. One was a roadhouse with name band, fried chicken, dancing, and drinks. The other was a private club. Freddie Paar ran both of them, and he probably even owned the place, though nobody knew for sure. In the roadhouse section he had a friendly nod for the patrons; in the club he knew everybody by name. He had to.

When Selma and Catell walked into the club entrance, a bruiser in a tuxedo asked for their cards.

“No cards,” Catell said. “Just blew into town and haven’t joined yet.”

“No card, no enter,” said the tuxedo.

“I been here before,” Catell said.

“No card, no enter.”

“Call Paar. Tell him Catell is here.”

The tuxedo picked up a phone in the wall and talked into it. Then he hung up and said, “Wait here. He’ll be right out.”

They waited while the bruiser looked Catell up and down. He didn’t give Selma a second look.

Then Paar came through the door that led to the club proper. He was short and his tuxedo was built around him like a piece of architecture. Above the upholstery in the shoulders his head looked small, even though his thinning black hair left him with a monstrous forehead.

“My dear Selma,” he said, and kissed her hand. “And Tony, of course. Come in, come in.”

They followed Paar through the door and into a dim, low room with a fireplace, a long bar, and scattered couches. A girl in black stockings and very little else took Selma’s fur and Catell’s overcoat. Then they took one of the couches while Paar sat opposite on a low coffee table.

“Well, Tony, what have you decided?”

“No business, Paar. We came on a social visit.”

“Of course, Tony, and forgive me, Selma, but answer me just this, Tony. Am I your man, or do you do it directly?”

“Directly.”

“Fine, Tony, fine. No hard feelings, you understand, but do call on me for any help, eh? And now I want you to have a drink on the house. I may join you later.”

He smiled at both of them, patted Selma on the knee, and was gone. He did it all so smoothly that Catell felt like a clod. He saw that Selma was smiling at Paar’s back, but he was in no mood for an argument.

A blonde waitress brought them their drinks. She was wearing a little apron that was attached to her body in some mysterious way. “On the house,” she said. Catell didn’t know whether he should smile back at her or not.

“What did he mean by that remark, is he your man or not?” Selma caught Catell in the middle of a thought.

“Huh?”

“Paar. What was he talking about?”

“Oh, nothing. About the heist. I talked with him about unloading something.”

“So?”

“He was interested but I wasn’t. He’s too high.”

“He knows what we got?”

“What we got?”

“Yeah, what we got! You weren’t thinking of leaving me out of this, were you? You weren’t thinking you could pay me off with rent money and an occasional date in a nightclub, were ya?”

Selma leaned her large face close to Catell and he could see the make-up and the pores of her skin. One of her curls was still hanging down and bobbed up and down like a spring when she talked.

“Calm down, damnit. We came here for a good time.”

“So I’m asking again. Does he know