Edging closer. Crowding me. "Give my office a call, we'll send you a coupla years' worth."I said, "I can see why you wouldn't want me talking to anyone.""Can you?" Harder slap. "Well, there you go. And I know you'll show some class. Not showing class would make a lot of people very unhappy, and you don't look like the kind of guy who wants to spread unhappiness.""God forbid.""God doesn't always forbid it," he said. "Sometimes we have to look out for ourselves."He held the gate open, waited until I'd walked to the cable car and boarded, then produced a remote-control unit of his own. Big smile and a thumb flick and I was descending.He waved bye-bye. I waved back, but I was staring over his shoulder, a hundred feet beyond, by one of the rock ponds, where a man in tennis whites stood and tossed something to the flamingos.Thick torso, bulky shoulders, a cap of cropped black hair.Black Suit, now in tennis whites. Drawing back his arm, he pitched to the birds. Scratched his head. Watched them eat.Kent Irving kept his eye on me as I sank out of view.29WHEN I GOT BACK to the broken pier, Norris was sitting in the sand, legs yogi-crossed, smoking a joint.
