Another very, very, up market neighbourhood in the city this time, mainly consisting of palace-sized condominiums. The concierge tolerated my presence in his lobby only long enough to make a verifying call up to Cynthia, and then wave me to an elevator with distinct displeasure. I checked myself out in the engraved mirrors lining the walls of the cab on the way to the penthouse; the concierge had a point. Now I was wishing I had chosen something a little classier... and cleaner.

It stopped without sensation, and the doors swished open to expose a foyer larger than Nora's and my apartment. A glazed tile floor with a Chinese motif, flowed toward the arched entrance to the living area where it continued with a museum's worth of prints, vases and furniture. Three very high walls of windows faced a panorama of the city I lived in, but didn't know existed. I couldn't believe the number of trees in among the skyscrapers and urban housing areas.

While I gawked, thoroughly impressed, Cynthia's voice sang across the room in stereo. I turned quickly in time to see her arrive on the end of a long, gold coloured cigarette holder and in her free hand a full Martini glass. A pair of clear plastic heels supported a length of extremely attractive legs, barely concealed at the top by what looked like nothing more than a wide headband. A silky over blouse, undone part way, floated in a semi-transparent green mist over her ecru bra.

"Christopher," the informality surprised me. "Welcome to my h—"

"I raised a hand. "Please don't call this your humble abode, okay. This is light years beyond humble." My Sam Spade began dwindling, and before I became Inspector Clouseau, I took a deep breath and shifted my shoulders Cagney style.

She smiled, continuing on to the bar at the far end of the room. "I was going to say, welcome to my huge extravagance. I like to think of it as that one fantasy indulgence that actually came true."

"Yeah? Well to me it's still just a fantasy. If you want me to see it as truth you'll have to pinch me." I pinched myself, watching those legs glide across the room.

"First things first," she said, drifting back to where I stood, a graceful arm extending a drink. "Vodka, right?"

"Thank you." So, the lady had checked me out. Rule number one, remember; I chided myself.

"Sit over here. Take your hat off and we can talk and enjoy the view at the same time." She folded herself onto a white leather-cushioned frame of moulded bamboo, exposing most of what I would be considering the view. "Things have changed since I hired you to approach Jarmon. I don't really need that scenario any more. Actually, it's become redundant." She paused, sipping from her drink with lips that gave me temporary amnesia.

"Uhm... uhm..." Redundant. She knows? She knows and doesn't care? She doesn't know but still doesn't care? I felt helpless and fingered the brim of my hat with my free hand.

"I know, it's a disappointment. I mean the rest of the money and all, but..."

She shifted on the cushion and I shifted inside.

"Hey, sh- things happen. If you found a happy ending to your problem, all the better. I can write up what I did, what I found out, and send you a copy - included in the deposit." I smiled weakly, remembering the drink, and gulped it down. "You did say things had changed."

"Yes." She paused and did a few exercises with her mouth. "I'm going to tell you what this is all about, just so you can understand my request."

"I'd love to hear it." God would love to hear it, I bounced inside.

●○●○●○●○●

Cynthia explained about her grandfather's trust and the terms as they existed today, continuing to point out why all the cloak and dagger manoeuvring had seemed necessary. All the clouds moved aside as I came out into the sunshine of understanding and it must have shown on my face because she gave me a sympathetic smile.

"I want that trust. I earned that trust." She stated harshly. "Jarmon will be toast when I collect because I have all I need - or will have when you've done my little favour - to divorce him without giving up a penny."

I suddenly felt my smarts click in and I sat forward, looking over at her. "If he suspects what you have planned, what's to stop him from coming out before the end of the month? He loses either way."

"Hence my little favour, Wallace." The smile turned feline. "I will certainly make it worth your while. I mean, I would see that you are suitably compensated."

I had an image of Nora's face glaring at me. "Well if there's something..." I waved the empty glass as part of the gesture and misinterpreting, she immediately jumped up and took it to the bar, returning with a fresh refill. I accepted the drink and slurped a mouthful as she stood over me, a long nail pressing a trough in her lower lip.

"The woman who's been seeing my husband, a Karen Winsett—"

"I know her!" I blurted stupidly.

"Really. Yes, well I would like you to have a chat with her, sort of uhm, suggest that if she folds her tent and moves on just for a short time, I'll also make it worth her while."

I sank into the smoky swirl of her eyes, trying hard to decipher the message. "The end of the month again? She can go on seeing him afterwards?"

"Something like that." The nail trailed down the neck onto the exposed cleavage. "It's too close to risk what you so perceptively suggested."

"I did? I mean, right, about Jarmon coming out."

"Yes. I'm not suggesting anything... illegal, Christopher, just tell her that if she can forget any hopes she had for sharing my trust and my husband and as long as their affair goes on hold until the end of the month, you say that he's hers if she still wants him after that, and that I will personally compensate her."

"You mentioned compensation."

Cynthia tipped her head to one side, the TV commercial hair bouncing in slow motion about her shoulders. "Just tell her it will be well worth her while." Her brow wrinkled.

I blushed, feeling grossly inadequate with this woman. "I uh- I meant uh... me..." I stood and moved behind my chair.

The brow smoothed and a set of sexy, amusement lines appeared at the corners of her eyes. "I will triple what I already paid you. And you don't even have to type up a report." Cynthia set her glass down and crossed her arms in slow motion.

"What if she doesn't pay attention?" My throat felt scorched.

"I don't pay for failure, Christopher, remember? I'm sure you'll find a way to... earn your fee."

The pauses in her sentences carried a suggestiveness that made me want to fall into her arms, and I reached out to the back of the lounge for support. Forgive me, Nora.

"Just one thing to remember," she said, following me and slipping her fingers under the collar of my shirt, eyes drilling my chest, "This Karen must be aware that the affair is a dead issue until after the end of the month."

"That's not-" I coughed, trying to swallow through my locked throat. "I hope that's not a metaphor for this little service." I honestly felt I was going to faint and I backed away, strolling around the lounge as casually as possible.

"That's the deal, Christopher, not the action." The classically innocent stare. "Okay?" I nodded. "And Christopher, a word of advice. Lose the hat."

Out on the sidewalk, the air felt thick and still. Mrs. Cynthia Wyatt certainly escaped the wrath of Mr. tough P.I.'s sour mood. Lose the hat! What was that? I guessed I would have to vent myself on some other unsuspecting mark. "Ooh man..." My sigh drew stares from a couple passing by.

I was still confused; her original request had been essentially the same. Cool the affair as far as publicity went until the end of the month but gather incriminating evidence. Now the evidence bit seems redundant since she's giving him away, so to speak. Seductive Cynthia had euchred me; I was doing the same job for a slightly different reason and less money.

I walked slowly back down the block to the subway entrance, mulling over the wisdom of continuing to poke around. Could I get Karen to back off until the end of the month? I can imply a threat if she balks. Doesn't mean I really have to do anything, just scare her a little. Trouble was, this trust business got me wondering if I was party to some great scam and if I was, who else might be getting hurt?

I had to know where Jarmon stayed when he wasn't at home. A call to his office netted me nothing; the woman answering the phone must have once been employed as a stone wall. Jogging down the steps into the damp cool of the underground, I wondered again if Devers or Smithee would know. To hell with wisdom. I dashed back up to the street with renewed enthusiasm.