Win shrugged. "I don't remember."

"What?"

"I know she was in an episode. But I don't remember her character's name."

"You can't do that."

Win smiled with perfect white teeth. "Where in the rule book does it say that?"

"You have to know the answer."

"Why?" Win countered. "Does Pat Sajak have to know every puzzle on Wheel of Fortune! Does Alex Trebeck have to know every question on Jeopardy!"

Pause. "Nice analogy, Win. Really."

"Thank you."

Then another voice said, "The Siren."

Myron and Win looked around. It seemed to have come from Henry.

"Did you say something?"

Henry's mouth did not appear to be moving. "The Siren," he repeated, his eyes still pasted to the court. "Joan Collins played the Siren. On Batman."

Myron and Win exchanged a glance.

"Nobody likes a know-it-all, Henry."

Henry's mouth might have moved. Might have been a smile.

On the court Duane opened the game with an ace that nearly bore a hole through a ball boy. The IBM speedometer clocked it at 128 mph. Myron shook his head in disbelief. So did Ivan What's-his-name. Duane was lining up for the second point when Myron's cellular phone rang.

Myron quickly picked it up. He was not the only person in the stands who was talking on a cellular phone. He was, however, the only one in a front row. Myron was about to disconnect the power when he realized it might be Jessica. Jessica. Just the thought quickened his pulse a little.

"Hello."

"It's not Jessica." It was Esperanza, his associate.

"I didn't think it was."

"Right," she said. "You always sound like a whimpering puppy when you answer the phone."

Myron gripped the receiver. The match continued without interruption, but sour faces spun to seek out the origin of the offending ring. "What do you want?" he whispered. "I'm in the stadium."