Cynthia paced back and forth, her skirt actually snapping against her thighs with each step, her drink precariously close to slopping out of the glass clenched in her fist. Across the room, equally agitated, Carleton built his third Martini and poured it down his throat in a one gasping gulp, pausing only to counter her tirade with one of his own.

She downed her own drink, and they passed one another on the expansive carpet, trading places. Cynthia made another drink, larger, and sucked half of it down and then topped it up before continuing her rant.

Carleton raged about her absolute stupidity in getting mixed up with a gangster like Bonducci and embroiling them all. Their encounter with the giant, Zeet, had completely unsettled them both, and attacking one another provided a needed outlet. He threw out her childish actions in hiring a private investigator and how the man's meddling had forced them all to make moves they never would have considered.

Cynthia vigorously denied his accusation, pointing out in a barrage of harsh profanity that it was his own machinations aimed at getting control of her trust that prompted the man's depth of investigation. He accused her again of blatant infidelity with thugs.

She strode toward him, finger pointing sharply, as she countered with his own culpability in getting involved with Julie Devers, an act that spawned the desperate actions of her husband. The news that both the Devers had disappeared rocked Carleton and he added that to his arsenal of accusations.

When she revealed that her father was contesting the trust in court, Carleton blanched, seeing his future dissolving like warm breath on a cold window. The argument grew louder, the accusations harsher and the drinking faster. Cynthia felt her skin heating and the flush of her cheeks burned hotter as the yelling escalated.

They met mid-room, nose-to-nose, drinks splashing as their arms flailed, then suddenly both fell silent. As if by agreement they finished their drinks, set down the glasses, then faced one another with trembling limbs.

The collision was almost painful when they came together, mouths crushing and bodies grinding. Clothes flew like autumn leaves and they crashed to the carpet wrapped in one another's arms, moaning and groaning in a torrent of frenzied declarations amid rabid passion.

Furniture skidded across the broadloom, vases and other objets d'art tumbled carelessly from side tables and joined the accumulating rubble around the writhing couple. Carleton cried out in pain from his cracked ribs but refused to surrender his advantage, and when Cynthia finally screamed in a throe of squirming ecstasy, they both fell apart limp and panting, against the legs of the overturned coffee table.

He dragged himself to a position where none of the debris was jabbing into his body and closed his eyes, gasping from the mix of pleasure and searing pain from his ribs.

"Good God, woman," he panted. "Where were you earlier in this fiasco?"

"Worrying about my trust," she groaned. "I should have put it all in you... like you just did with me." He groaned, and her weak laugh trailed off as she collapsed into a deep, drunken sleep.

●○●○●○●○●

I pulled up outside the innocuous looking building where Bernie had his office and scanned the street for possible lookouts - standard P.I. stuff - then locked the car and entered the doorway to the grubby, narrow staircase, and climbed quietly to the second floor. My concern for Nora was giving me fits and I wondered what I would do even if I found her up here.

Bernie was showing signs of agitation, waiting for his man to call with a status report. The strange silent little man from earlier appeared once again, left some folders on his desk and left again without so much as a glance in Nora's direction. She sat unhappily in a chair in the corner of the room, disdaining the replenished drink glass and glowering at Bernie every time their eyes met.

"We could be more genial while we wait," he tried.

"In your dreams."

"My dreams, Nora, could come true in a heartbeat if I wanted them to so don't press too hard with the attitude, okay?"

"You don't scare me, you thug. I can't wait to see you in court."

"I'm warning you, lady, do not press me." Bernie made himself another drink and sipped it to calm himself down. His track record with women in the past few years was definitely lacking.

"When Detective Houseman gets here, you'll be the one pressing."

At the mention of Houseman's name, Bernie swallowed hard. The policeman was the same one who happily bundled him off to jail three or so years ago. All the stored anger and dreams of revenge suddenly boiled to the surface. He tossed his drink down and went to the phone.

"Elrod, I may be needing your services soon so stay handy." He hung up and slipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Nora watched warily as he picked up the baseball bat from behind his desk and came toward her, slapping it in his hand. He stopped in front of her and smiled grimly. "You know my nickname?" She nodded. "Well this is where I got it from." He tapped her on the knee with the bat.

"People that press me or don't do as I want soon learn that very quickly. In your case it's nothing you've done this time, so much as the grief you and your asshole husband caused me before. Three years in a stinking cell with guys I wouldn't leave walkin' when I was in my prime."

"You got exactly what you deserved." She said defiantly.

"You think so, eh? Well this time at least you won't be around to see if it happens again." He pounded the bat on the arm of the chair, making her jump.

I checked to make sure the silent little man wasn't around again, then tested the door handle and found it unlocked. It eased open and I peered through the tiny space. Nora was sitting looking up at Bernie, her fingers clamped tight in her lap. Bernie was waving his baseball bat menacingly and I heard just the last of the threat. Inhaling courage, I shoved the door open wide and yelled at Bernie.

"What the-?"

"Remember me, Bernie?" Who was I kidding?

"Oh yeah... do I ever." He set his feet and turned with blinding speed, swinging the bat toward Nora.

"Look out!" I screamed, rushing the wild batsman.

It thudded with a deadly crunch on the back of the chair, splitting the wood and raising a tiny cloud of stuffing from the back cushion; Nora had slid down to the floor when his back was turned and as he drew back for another swing I landed on him piggyback. Bernie lurched around, roaring, and we went spinning across the office in a comic parody of ballet.

Slamming into the wall, I felt my spine take the brunt. He swung the bat back over his head and landed a glancing blow on my ear, causing it to go numb. This called for something more macho and representative of my detective heroes, before I was battered to paste. I dropped my feet to the floor and pivoted hard, flinging Bernie into the corner of his desk.

His mouth went round and his eyes bugged, as he jammed the bat between his legs. Before he could recover, I drilled him in the kidney with a punch that nearly broke my arm. He made a nasty sound and fell forward onto his desk, unmoving, his face flat against the tooled leather desktop in a puddle of drool.

Nora ran to me and we held one another tight, tighter and tightest. The shout of 'Freeze!' from the doorway made us jump and we spun, still locked together, to face Paul Houseman, his gun aimed at our faces.

"Glad to see you, Detective," I said, easing Nora away and taking her hand.

"We'll see how glad. You have a lot of questions to answer, Wallace."

"Speak to my attorney." I steered Nora forward with an encouraging smile.

"Hello Detective Houseman." She said.

"Mrs. Wallace. It's been a while... thankfully." His remark was delivered tongue-in-cheek and he lowered his gun, slowly shaking his head. "Bonnie and Clyde."

"Pardon?"

"That's our name for the Wallace's downtown." He went to Bernie and felt for a pulse. "Seems like you're up to your old tricks too... and with the same cast yet."

He shook his head again and waved one of the uniforms that had followed him in, to take care of Bernie.

"I can explain most of it." I offered.

"Oh I know, and you will. Trust me. Shall we go?"

"Now?"

"No, no. Why don't you and the Mrs. take a few weeks in the Caribbean and then when you're ready we can sit down and..." I waved a disgusted hand and led Nora past him and out the door and downstairs to the waiting cruiser.