Spagnola looked up and gestured for Sam to sit. Then he grinned, mimed a mimic of the caller he was listening to, looked bored, feigned falling asleep, gestured the international sign language for being jerked off, then said, "Is that so, Doctor? Well, as far as I know I have no superiors since the Crucifixion, so give it your best shot." He slammed down the phone.

Sam said, "Got something on Dr. Epstein?"

Spagnola smiled. "He's porking the Cliffs' highly ethical Monday-Wednesday-Friday masseuse."

"Everybody's porking her."

"No, everybody's porking the Tuesday-Thursday-Saturday masseuse. Monday-Wednesday-Friday is very exclusive."

"And highly ethical."

"Says so in the brochure." Spagnola grinned, then casually picked up a legal pad from his desk and looked it over. "Samuel, my friend, your puppy has kept me on the phone with charming folks like Epstein all day. Shall I read you the log?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Josh. I don't have a dog."

"Then you will want to notify security about the large canine that is currently on your back deck disturbing Dr. Epstein's nap."

"I'm not kidding, Josh. If there's a dog on my deck I don't know anything about it." Sam suddenly remembered that he'd left the sliding door to the deck open. "Christ!"

"Yes, the door is open. I've told you about that before, it's an invitation to burglars."

"That deck is twenty feet off the ground. How did a dog get up there? How did it get in my apartment without setting off the alarm?"

"I was wondering that same thing. If it isn't your dog, how did it get up there? It looks bad. The other association members are having an emergency meeting tonight to discuss the problem."