The open ashtray under the dashboard was filled with butts. Mathieson got out of Caruso’s car and slid into Bradleigh’s. The air conditioning blew the smoke around Bradleigh’s face in fragile wreaths. Mathieson pulled the door shut. “You keep it idling in this heat with the air-conditioner on, you’ll overheat the engine.” “Yeah, well it’s rented.” Caruso was parking fifty feet away. Mathieson removed his sunglasses briefly to study Bradleigh’s face but then he put them back on. Bradleigh was waiting for him to say something. Waiting for his forgiveness. Mathieson didn’t give it to him. “You get the papers for us?” “In the folder.” Bradleigh tipped his head back and Mathieson found the folder in the back seat. He unwound the string closing and opened the brown flap. “Paul and Alice Baxter,” Bradleigh said. “Alice? She won’t stand for it. It took her four years to get used to Jan.” “Jan for Janice. You could try calling her Al.” Mathieson shuffled through the documents.
