Captain Cummins' face was ashen. The two bodies removed from the Sanders house were his recruited members of the Westhaven Police Department. Nick and Barbara sat side by side in the living room answering questions.

"You say the one at the back fired first through the kitchen window?"

"Well since his shot smashed all the dishes on the counter and I shot and killed him through the door, yeah that would seem reasonable."

"You could have gone out after and fired through the window yourself."

Nick gave him a pitying look. "That's right. Two men with guns just innocently wandered in off the street and I was so mad I killed them then went about staging the scene."

"That'll be all, officer." Cummins directed his man out then sat down across from the couple. "Since you arrived here, Roth, you've been nothing but trouble. "You will stay in town now, much to my chagrin until this is sorted. Your gun is in evidence and you won't be getting that back soon. The only reason you aren't in jail is--" He stopped abruptly, realizing he almost said he knew the victims were police.

"Is why?"

"Is because I don't want you around me." The Captain stood and left the room, taking all his people with him.

"That's interesting don't you think?"

"Well we told the truth, Nick."

"Yeah. And Cummins knew it." He stood and stretched his arm; a nagging ache persisted from his gymnastics on the kitchen floor earlier. "Where's your phone book?"

"Are you planning on tracking down Christine?"

"I am. I want to see her reaction to me before somebody warns her."

"You really do think she's involved."

"Up to her curlers, Barb. Up to her curlers."

********

The door opened a crack and the face peeked cautiously around the edge.

"Yes, can I ask what you want?"

"A chat, Christine. I'm Nick Roth."

There was an audible squeak of surprise and the door started to close but Nick shoved it hard and Christine stumbled backwards onto the floor. He closed it behind him and stood waiting for her to get up.

"What do you want? Who are you?" She climbed slowly to her feet, rubbing her arm.

"C'mon Christine, you might not have known what I looked like but you sure as hell knew my name."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well sit down and I'll tell you all about it."

"I want you out of here!" She moved toward him with a raised fist,"

The slap was loud and Christine reeled back, landing on her sofa, legs akimbo. Nick moved and stood over her, his stare cold and unforgiving.

"I'll get out when I've got some answers."

"I don't have anything to say to you, you lug; I don't even know you!"

Nick went through his theory about her phone calls and the ensuing events, watching her expression go from stubborn to wary to fear.

"What I want to know is who told you to call?"

"I can't . . . he'll kill me too!"

"That won't happen."

"Yeah? How can you be so sure?"

"Because, I'm here now and I'll kill you if you don't tell me who he is."

"Oh, a real hard nose."

Nick took out the gun he always kept in his car and chambered a round then rested the barrel on her head. "Don't make me prove it, sweetheart."

********

He knew the answer, he just wanted confirmation. Braxton was her now and then boyfriend and she did what he said because she liked the lifestyle he provided. Nick left with a warning that he would snuff that lifestyle in a heartbeat if she even thought of phoning Braxton. All her bravado deserted her as he spoke calmly and directly into her ear.

Nick sat in his car toying with the steering wheel spinner and cracking a window to let the cigarette smoke out. If she got up the nerve and called, he could be driving straight into a nasty trap. On the other hand, if his threat worked Braxton was in for a surprise.

He squashed the cigarette in the ashtray, slid it shut and started the car. The Dodge coupe was a little noisy for a stealthy approach so he figured to park out on the road somewhere and hike into BK Developments. First he would check back with Barbara and let her know his plan; he didn't want her raising alarms if she thought he was tied up somehow.

"Christine and Braxton!"

"That's what she said unless she was putting on the dog but I doubt it."

"I never even had any idea they were a couple."

"You seem more interested in the gossip than what she did for him."

"No-- of course not." She blushed. "Are you sure going to his place alone is a good idea?"

"I can't trust anyone in town to tag along; Braxton owns them all I think."

"But what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to tell him flat out I know what he's up to, how he's going about it and what he's done so far. I will tell him it is all documented and in a safe place in case he gets any ideas then I'll tell him I'm going to the Federal Government with what I know."

"But what is stopping him from hurting you anyway this time?"

"Couldn't you send me off with a good luck, or a see you when you get back?"

"You are such a-- a-- hard nose, Nicholas."

"That's twice tonight. Let's see if Braxton thinks the same thing."

********

More goons with guns. Nick crouched behind the rail fence at the edge of the property watching the two men stop, exchange some words and move on in opposite directions. Why would Braxton need armed guards? He ran in a crouch along the fence line to a clump of thick bushes and watched the house again.

The guards did a complete circuit of the main house and were both out of sight at the same time so Nick timed his move and as they turned the corners he made a dash for the house. The third guard was a surprise with a gun that was bigger than his and aimed straight at his face.

"We were told to expect you, gumshoe. Get rid of the hardware on the ground and turn around, arms out straight."

The pat down was professional and efficient and Nick guessed police.

"Move, right to the door and keep those arms up."

The other two guards arrived and the three all jabbered together, having their jokes at Nick's expense.

"Big city PI walked into that one didn't you?"

"Guess I did. So is this what you boys call moonlighting?"

"Just get inside and keep the remarks to yourself."

The interior was all tastefully appointed and very expensive looking. Braxton was seated in a leather armchair, a brandy snifter in one hand and a cigar in the other.

"Was he packing?"

One of the men walked over and handed Braxton Nick's gun. "Had that on him."

"So a second gun, Mr. Roth."

"Your pet hairdresser call and tell you I had one?"

"Let's say Christine knows which side her bread is buttered on." Braxton waved him to a chair and asked if he wanted a drink.

"Might as well, I expect I'll be here for a while."

"Don't bank on it. What's your pleasure?" Braxton held up a bottle.

"CC neat and no ice."

"Aah, a drinker."

"Nah, a connoisseur."

Braxton handed him a glass and offered a cigar as well.

"The blindfold next?"

"You have such a low opinion of me, Mr. Roth." He placed the refused cigar on the table. "Obviously you had a purpose in coming here tonight so why don't we discuss that."

"Okay. Did you give Daltry danger pay?" The move was quick and Nick felt his head jerk back on the chair. One of the goons had applied a rather painful headlock and he was seeing spots.

"That's enough, Blake. I think Mr. Roth understands the rules now."

Nick leaned forward and set his glass down, his fingers massaging his neck and his mind picturing Blake on a chopping block.

"Care to try again?"

"We gonna play, you bet your life, Groucho?"

This time Nick stood quickly, shoving the chair backwards into Blake's stomach then putting his foot on the edge of the seat and shoving both the chair and Blake into the wall. The other two men simply raised their guns and the situation was resolved.

"Let me have him, Mr. Kerr." Blake held his stomach and shook a fist in Nick's direction.

"This is tiresome, Mr. Roth. Will you answer my original question or shall I just let these gentlemen make you wish you were never born?"

"I came to tell you I know exactly what you are doing with the water in Hunting and the properties, how you are doing it and who is in it with you. And before you speak, it is all documented and safely put away for the attention of the Federal Government. I wouldn't trust the police here or in Westhaven." He watched the shift in posture of the three goons and knew he was right all along. Braxton was using the police as his private army.

The light through the shade of the Tiffany table lamp gave Braxton's face an eerie rosiness as he stared at his brandy glass.

"Too bad you stuck your nose in this, Roth, now I'm going to have to take steps to end your meddling." He turned to one of the men and ordered him to fetch Barbara Sanders. "We'll soon see how safe your documented evidence is. Take him to the barn."