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Freeboard fumbled for her cigarette pack on the bar.

“How do you live?”

Case eyed her with a kindly patience.

“The university pays me,” he said gently. “I teach.”

“Oh, yeah yeah.”

“I’m a teacher.”

“Hey, I got it, okay? You want to drop it?” Freeboard glared and lit her cigarette with unsteady hands, then set her solid gold lighter on the counter with a thump.

Case lifted the pitcher and topped off her glass.

“Another olive?” he asked her politely.

“You married?”

“Yes, I am.”

She looked away and muttered, “Who gives a shit?”

She picked up a book that was resting on the counter, standing it on end as she eyed its cover. “The Denial of Death” she read aloud. “Is this good?”

“Yes, I think so.” Case was pouring a martini for himself. “I mean to reread it tonight,” he told her. “The author’s Ernst Becker.”

“Who’s in it?”

“It isn’t a movie.”

She let the book drop.

Case plopped an olive in his glass and took a sip.

“Are you married, Joan?” he asked her.

She looked down, blew out cigarette smoke and shook her head. “Never married?” he persisted.

“Never married.”

“Any family?”

“All dead. I was the youngest,” Freeboard said. “I’m the last.”

“No other relatives?”

She looked down into her drink. “No, no one.”

“Mr. Dare is rather close to you, I’ve noticed.”

“He’s the only man I know would never hurt me.”

“Men have hurt you very often, Joan?”

Dismissively waving her hand, she said, “Ah, fuck it.”

She plucked up her martini glass, sipped, and then set down the glass with a bang. Then she snatched at the book and stood it on end. “So what’s this all about?” she said.

“You wouldn’t like it.”

Abruptly she lay the book down, staring off.

“God, I just had that déjà vu feeling again.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Real strong.”

Case folded his arms atop the counter, leaning forward.

“Joan, I’d like to hear more about your work. Do you enjoy it?”

“Shit, I love it to pieces.”

“How nice.”

“I’d rather sell a fucking town house than piss.”

“That should settle any lingering ambiguity in the matter.”

Freeboard looked out a window. “This place is so isolated.”

“Completely.”

“I wonder if it’s burglarized a lot.”

“I don’t think so,” said Case without expression.

“Well, don’t look at me like I’m some kind of retard,” she blurted, her droopy eyes narrowing with resentment. “A lot of Navy Seals later on become criminals. Why the fuck do you think Malibu keeps getting ripped off?”

“I’d never thought of that.”

“This place would be ripe.”

“I see your point.”

Freeboard tilted up the book again, narrowly avoiding knocking over her glass. Case grabbed it by the stem before it could fall.

“Hey, man, thanks,” said Freeboard slurrily.

“Don’t mention it,” said Case.

“Good hands.”

She looked back at the cover of the book.

“And so what’s this about, Doc? Is it good?”

“Well, it deals with our terror of death,” answered Case, “and how we avoid it by trying to distract ourselves with sex and money and power.”

Freeboard eyed him in blank incomprehension.

“Who needs death for all that?” she said.

“Well, exactly.”

She stared at the book.

“I love my life,” she murmured.

“So you should,” said Case. “Lots of toys.”

Freeboard propped an elbow on the bar and then lowered her head into her hand. Case could no longer see her face. “Lots of toys,” she said weakly. She nodded. And then, the words muffled and narrow in her throat, she murmured, “Yeah, a whole lot of toys. A whole bunch.”

Case stared. “Something wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Can’t you tell me?”

She was silently sobbing into her hand.

Case set down his glass and gripped her forearm very gently.

“Can’t you tell me? Please tell me,” he said.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I cry and don’t know why. I don’t know. I don’t know.”

She continued to sob.

“What were you thinking about just now?” Case asked her.

Freeboard shook her head. “I don’t know.”

He touched a comforting hand to her cheek.

“Then just cry, dear,” he said. “It’s all right.”

He looked up as a troubled Dare entered