I stretched, then walked around the pool-diving board was at the other end-and knelt to retrieve the two towels under my chair. One, of course, was rolled up like an ice cream cake with a nine millimeter center. I sat down, placed the bundle as inconspicuously as possible on the cement to my right-Monahan was seated at my left-and began toweling off casually.

“Looks like all the sweet pussy took a walk,” he said with a sneer.

I wasn’t sure I got that, but figuring he meant the bikini girls, I tried this: “Lotta nice stuff gettin’ strutted this afternoon, all right. I guess they’re all over at the Paddlewheel.”

He nodded. Smoked some more. No more rings. “This motel’s the loneliest place in town, after dark.”

“Rough little burg,” I noted.

“Paddlewheel’s safe enough. Games are straight. Good food. Decent entertainment.” He shook his head. Blew dragon smoke out his nostrils. “But you can get your ass handed to you downtown, brother.”

“Yeah?”

“Joint called the Lucky Devil, especially.”

“Rough?”

“Rougher than a cob.” He extended a hand. “Sam Mason. Insurance game.”

I shook it. “Jack Gibson. Veterinary medicine.”

“Really? Pets or farm animals?”

“Know much about farms?”

“Was raised on one.”

I gave him half a grin. “Me? Wouldn’t know a heifer from a hog. My line of meds is strictly the pet trade.”

He laughed and smoke came out. “You want to make a buck in this hellhole? Try selling penicillin.”

“Not at the Paddlewheel, though…”

“No! No. I don’t even think any high-class ass works out of there. Bluff City is too smalltown for call girls, and the kind of girls you meet on the Haydee’s side, you don’t take home to mother…unless mother is a doctor specializing in the clap.”

I shook my head, did a little shiver. “Since AIDS came around, Mrs. Gibson’s little boy don’t go out in the rain without his rubbers.”