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“Hi,” she said. “I saw you downstairs in the bar, and thought you might like a little company.”

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m a cop,” he said.

“Oh, shit!”

He watched her flee down the corridor, and then, smiling, closed the door and walked across the room to his bed.

The phone rang.

Please, God, let that be Louise! Virtue is supposed to be its own reward.

“Did I wake you up?” Lieutenant Bob McGrory asked.

“No problem, I had to answer the phone anyway,” Wohl said, pleased with his wit.

“I just had a call from a friend of mine on the Atlantic City vice squad,” McGrory said. “Two gentlemen were in an establishment called the Black Banana earlier this evening. They paid for their drinks with a Visa credit card issued to Jerome Nelson. The manager called it in. I understand he needs a friend—several friends—in the police department right now.”

“The Black Banana?” Wohl asked. “If it’s what it sounds like, we’ve got one of those in Philly.”

“Maybe it’s a franchise,” McGrory said, chuckling.

“They still there?”

“No. The cops are checking the hotels and motels. They have what may be a name from the manager of the Black Banana, and they’re also checking to see if anyone is registered as Jerome Nelson. They have a stakeout at the Banana, too.”

“Interesting,” Peter said.

“I told my friend I’d call him back and tell him if you wanted to be waked up if they find them.”

“Oh, yes,” Peter Wohl said. “Thank you, Bob.”

****

On his fifth day in Atlantic City, when Peter Wohl walked into the state trooper barracks, Lieutenant Robert McGrory told him that he had just that moment hung up from talking with Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin.

“ ‘Almost all is forgiven, come home’ is the message, Peter,” Lieutenant McGrory said.

“Thank you,” Peter said. “Thanks for everything.”

“Any time. You going right back?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “My girl friend’s probably finally given up on me.”

“The one at the church? Very nice.”

“Her, too,” Peter said.

****

There was a Mayflower moving van parked on the cobblestone street before Six Stockton Place.

It is altogether fitting and proper, Peter Wohl thought, that I should arrive here at the exact moment they are carrying out Louise’s bed.

But he got out of the LTD anyway, and walked into the building and rode up in the elevator. The door to Louise’s apartment was open, and he walked in.