'You did. Is it true?'

'You bet your life it's true.'

We'd reached the top of the steps with the gate in sight. She dug into her handbag and took out a tape recorder. 'I've got that prick on tape and also what I said to him. Good copy.'

'Journalist?'

'And author to be. Well, you'd better get back to work. You're a minder if ever I saw one.'

I was reluctant to let her go. She had an attractive intensity and a voice that made you want to listen to her. 'You could be wrong about that. I'm just filling in for someone.'

'You don't work for Clement?'

'I'd rather spend the rest of my life at a Kamahl concert.'

She laughed. 'That's a good line.'

'I stole it from somewhere.'

'I guessed that. Never mind.'

'I'm Cliff Hardy.'

She took a card from her bag and handed it to me, turned quickly and walked away. I had a weird feeling she was going to flutter her fingers at me without looking back, like Liza Minnelli in Cabaret, but she didn't.

2

Thanks a lot, Cliff.' Hank's voice on the phone the — L next day was still full of wheeze and huskiness. Since Hank, like many Americans, was incapable of irony, I had to accept that he meant it.

'I understand Clement thanked you,' he said. 'Not personally. He sort of conveyed his thanks. I think that's how he does things.'

'Anyway, I'm still on the books with those people so I owe you.'

I'd gone back to Clement's party and continued on with my uneventful duties. I got some black looks from Thomas but one of Clement's minions had told me the boss was happy with what I'd done. I had another drink on the strength of that and called it a night as the party was winding down around 1.30 am. I'd had my three drinks and managed a couple of sandwiches and chunks of cheese as blotter so I reckoned I was all right to drive home.