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Brigitte shakes her head.

“He’s wasting his time,” she says. “She doesn’t like men and she doesn’t speak English. I’ll rescue her and send him to you.”

She squeezes my hand.

“Think about what I said. What’s more important: Chihiro or one more little apocalypse?”

She goes over and says something to her friend. The woman goes back to the table, and when Marlowe turns his attention to Brigitte, she points at me. All the fun goes out of his face. He’s not scoring with any of the Euro girls tonight.

Marlowe comes over and puts his hands up like a robbery in a cowboy movie.

“I swear, Sheriff, I didn’t lay a hand on her.”

He’s boyishly handsome, wearing a green-­striped shirt and khaki pants, looking a lot more J.Crew than Elizabethan. He’s not the real Christopher Marlowe, of course. At least I don’t think so. Last I heard, the real Marlowe is a vampire living happily in Tangiers. Still, I bet this Marlowe has a screenplay. There are more unproduced scripts in L.A. than rats.

“Relax. I’m not playing chaperone. Besides, Brigitte carries a gun, so she doesn’t need my help.”

Marlowe glances at her, back at the table with her friends.

“Thanks for the warning.”

“It was more friendly advice, but you’re welcome.”

He leans against the bar and orders a dirty martini. When Carlos goes off to make it, he turns to me.

“So, if you’re not minding the beauty’s business, why have you summoned me? Fashion advice? First, ditch the Johnny Cash coat. This is L.A., not the Grand Ole Opry.”

“Thanks. When I want advice from a Banana Republic catalog, I’ll come to you.”

Carlos brings him his drink and he pays.

“Carlos says you’re a Fiddler. Is that right?”

“Are you asking because you’re famous and want a favor?”

“Not at all. I’m a small businessman myself. I can pay.”

“Cash?”

“You can bill the agency.”

He looks at Carlos.

“Is this guy for real?”

“Yeah. He’s a regular Derek Flint these days. His boss comes in here all the time.”

“Fine,” he says. “Show me what you have.”

I hand him the knife.

“You looking for anything in particular? I’m good with dates and original owners.”

I put the utility cloth in my

pocket.

“Just tell me anything you can tell me about it.”