"I'll meet you back at the car wash," Max said, and shambled resignedly off toward the bar.

Joseph Schilling paused a moment, and then entered the real estate office. The single large room was dark and cool. A long counter blocked off one side; behind it, at a desk, sat a tall young man.

"Yes, sir?" the young man said, making no move to rise.

"What can I do for you?"

"You handle business rentals?"

"Yes, we do."

Joseph Schilling moved to the end of the counter and regarded a wall map of Santa Clara County. "Let me see your listings." From between his fingers appeared the white edge of his business card. "I'm Joseph R. Schilling."

The young man had risen to his feet. "I'm Jack Greb. Glad to meet you, Mr. Schilling." He extended his hand warily. "Business property? You're looking for a long-term lease on a retail outlet?" From under the counter he got a thick, stave-bound book and laid it open before him.

"Without fixtures," Schilling said.

"You're a merchant? You have a California Retail Sales License?"

"I'm in the music business." Presently he added, "I used to be in the publishing end; now I've decided to try my hand at record retailing. It's been a sort of dream of mine-to have my own shop."

"We already have a record shop," Greb said. "Hank's Music Bar."

"This will be a different type of thing. This will be music for connoisseurs."

"Classical music, you mean."

"That's what I mean."

Wetting his thumb, Greb began spiritedly turning the stiff yellow pages of his listings book. "I think we have just the place for you. Nice little store, very modern and clean. Tilted front, fluorescent lighting, built only a couple of years ago. Over on Pine Street, right in the heart of the business section. Used to be a gift shop. Man and his wife, nice middle-aged couple. He sold out when she died. Died of stomach cancer, as I understand."

"I'd like to see the place," Joseph Schilling said.