Theo stopped in front of Molly’s trailer, a vintage fifties single-wide with small louvered windows and streaks of rust running from the roof. He got Molly out of the car and took off the handcuffs.

Theo said, “I’m going to see Val Riordan. You want me to have her call something in to the pharmacy for you?”

“No, I’ve got my meds. I don’t like ‘em, but I got ’em.” She rubbed her wrists. “Why you going to see Val? You going nuts?”

“Probably, but this is business. You going to be okay now?”

“I have to study my lines.”

“Right.” Theo started to go, then turned. “Molly, what were you doing at the Slug at eight in the morning?”

“How should I know?”

“If the guy at the Slug had been a local, I’d be taking you to County right now, you know that?”

“I wasn’t having a fit. He wanted a piece of me.”

“Stay out of the Slug for a while. Stay home. Just groceries, okay?”

“You won’t talk to the tabloids?”

He handed her a business card. “Next time someone tries to take a piece of you, call me. I always have the cell phone with me.”

She pulled up her sweater and tucked the card into the waistband of her tights, then, still holding up her sweater, she turned and walked to her trailer with a slow sway. Thirty or fifty, under the sweater she still had a figure. Theo watched her walk, forgetting for a minute who she was. Without looking back, she said, “What if it’s you, Theo? Who do I call then?”

Theo shook his head like a dog trying to clear water from its ears, then crawled into the Volvo and drove away. I’ve been alone too long, he thought.