The Assassin

ELEVEN

There was a light-skinned black man in a white coat standing under the portico of the Peebles's turn-of-the-century mansion when Wohl drove up.

"Good afternoon, sir. I'll take care of your car. Miss Peebles is at the barbecue pit."

He gestured toward a brick path leading from the house to a grove of trees.

Peter Wohl did not permit anyone else to drive his car. He had spent three years and more money than he liked to remember rebuilding it from the frame up, and had no intention of having it damaged by someone else.

"I'll park it, thank you. Around the back?"

"Beside the carriage house, if you please, sir."

Matt, who had followed him to the estate, now followed him to the carriage house.

There were two cars already parked there. One, a nearly new Ford four-door sedan both Matt and Wohl recognized as the unmarked Department car assigned to Captain Mike Sabara, Wohl's deputy. The other was a four-year-old Chevrolet with a Fraternal Order of Police sticker in the rear windshield.

They each noticed the other looking at it, and then shrugged almost simultaneously, indicating that neither recognized it.

They walked across the cobblestones past the carriage house (now a four-car garage) to the brick walk and toward the barbecue pit. They were almost out of sight of the house when they heard another car arrive.

It was a Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon, and at the moment Matt decided that it looked vaguely familiar, there was proof. The Buick wagon stopped at the portico of the mansion and Miss Penelope Detweiler got out.

"Shit," Matt said.

"Someone you know, I gather?" Wohl said.

"Precious Penny Detweiler," Matt said.

"Really?" Wohl sounded surprised.

"Before we send the hit man to the mayor's house, do you suppose he'd have time to do a job on Pekach's girlfriend?"

They reached the barbecue pit. It was a circular area perhaps fifty feet across, with brick benches, now covered with flowered cushions, at the perimeter. There were several cast-iron tables and matching chairs, each topped with a large umbrella. Each table had been set with place mats and a full set of silver and glassware.

A bar had been set up, and another black man in a white jacket stood behind that. A third black man, older and wearing a gray jacket, whom Matt recognized as Evans, Martha Peebles's butler, was, assisted by Captain Pekach, adjusting the rack over a large bed of charcoal in the grill itself, a brick structure in the center of the circle.

"God," Wohl said softly, "ain't getting back to simple nature wonderful?"

Martha Peebles came up to them when they stepped inside the circle.

"I'm so glad you could come," she said. "David is fixing the fire."

She gave her cheek to Matt, who kissed it, and then to Wohl, who followed suit.

"I think I should warn you, Martha," Matt said. "That when he's at work, we don't let the captain play with matches."

"Penny Detweiler's coming," Martha said. "She should be here any minute."

"She's here."

"I ran into her and her mother at the butcher's, and I asked them to join us…"

Matt smiled insincerely.

"And Grace said she and Dick were tied up, but Penny…"

"Would just love to come, right?" Matt said.

"And I told Grace you would drive her home, afterward. Is that all right?"

The bartender approached them.

"Can I get you gentlemen something?"

"How are you fixed for strychnine?"

"I'm beginning to suspect that wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done," Martha said. "If I did the wrong thing, Matt, I'm sorry. It was just that I knew she is just home…"

"I don't think you're capable of doing the wrong thing, Martha," Matt said. "On the other hand, I'm famous for being ill-mannered. Sure, I'll take her home." He turned to the bartender: "I'll have a beer, please. Ortlieb's, if you have it."

"The same for me, please," Wohl said.

Officer Paul T. O'Mara, holding a bottle of Pabst, walked up. He was in civilian clothing, a sports coat, and slacks.

"Hello, Paul," Wohl said.

Matt decided Wohl was surprised and not entirely pleased to see whoever this guy was.

"Inspector, would you please call your father?"

"How old is that request?" Wohl asked.

"He called me at my dad's house about ten," O'Mara said. "He said he couldn't find you at your apartment. I called Captain Sabara:"

"And he said I'd probably be here?"

"Yes, sir."

"He got through to me," Wohl said. "But good job, Paul, running me down."

"Yes, sir. Miss Peebles asked me to stay…"

"How lucky for you."

"Captain Sabara said it would be all right."

"Paul, this is Matt Payne," Wohl said.

"Yes, sir, I know who he is." He put out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Payne."

"Paul took your job, Matt," Wohl said. "So far he's been doing a much better job than you ever did."

"Thanks a lot," Matt said.

Captain Mike Sabara, whose acne-scarred olive skin gave him a somewhat menacing appearance, walked up to them, trailed by his wife.

"How goes it, boss?" Sabara asked.

"Inspector," Mrs. Sabara said.

"Hello, Helen," Wohl said. "It's good to see you."

"How are you, Matt? How's things at East Detectives?"

"Take a note, O'Mara," Wohl said. "The inspector desires that supervisors read departmental teletypes."

Sabara looked confused and possibly a little worried, but before he could question the remark, Captain Dave Pekach came up.

"I'm glad you could come," he said. "Both of you. How's East Detectives, Matt?"

"O'Mara," Wohl said. "Take two notes. Same subject."

"Excuse me?" Pekach said.

"Gentlemen, permit me to introduce the latest addition to our happy little family. Detective Payne. The reason I know this is Detective Payne showed me the teletype transferring him. Which was nice, because it was apparently never sent to Special Operations, or if it was, nobody ever thought to tell me about it."

"Jesus, Peter, I didn't see it," Mike Sabara said.

"Me, either," Pekach confessed.

"Inspector, I did," O'Mara said. "I guess I should have told you, but I just thought you would know."

"I would have thought so too," Wohl said.

"Dammit," Dave Pekach said, and then stopped as Miss Penelope Detweiler walked up to them.

She took Matt's arm, leaned up and kissed his cheek, and then laid her head against his shoulder.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Penny."

"You know our hostess, of course," Matt said. "These delightful folks are Mrs. Mike Sabara, Captain Sabara, Captain Pekach, Officer O' Mara, and the boss, Inspector Wohl."

"How do you do, Miss Detweiler?" Mike Sabara said.

From the look on your face, Mrs. Sabara, Matt thought, it is evident that you have just identified the sweet-looking blonde you thought was my girlfriend as the poor little rich girl who took dope, was involved with the Guinea gangster, and was just freed from the looney bin.

"Couldn't you call me 'Penny'?" she asked plaintively.

"Hi, Penny," Wohl said. "Call me Peter."

"I'm Dave," Captain Pekach said.

"I like him, Martha," Penny said. "He's even nicer-looking than you told Mother."

"I like him too," Martha said, and kissed Captain Pekach on the cheek, an act that seemed to embarrass him.

"Please call me Helen," Mrs. Sabara said.

"My name is Tom," Officer O'Mara said.

"Hi, Tom," Penny said, and smiled at him.

Officer O'Mara, Matt thought, looks as stunned as Madame Sabara. I think he has just fallen in love.

"I think we're all here now," Martha said. "I thought we'd have some munchies and a drink or two to work up an appetite and then Dave will do the steaks."

"May I help in some way, Martha?" Penny asked.

"It's all been done, dear, thank you just the same."

I wish to hell she would let go of my arm, Matt thought. As a matter of fact, I devoutly wish she weren't here at all. And then he considered that for a moment. You are really a prick, Matthew Payne. She isn't at all interested in you as a male. She is hanging on to you because she's scared to death. She's floating around all alone in strange waters, and you're the only life preserver in sight. You are, whether you like it or not, the closest thing she has to a brother, and you have a clear obligation to try to help her.

"Nonsense," Matt said. "Put her to work. If nothing else, get her a broom and have her sweep the place up."

"Matt, that's terrible!" Martha said.

"No, it's not," Penny said. "I learned a long time ago that saying something rude is Matt's perverse way of showing affection."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek again.

"So go get a broom," Matt said.

"I won't get a broom, but I will pass the…what did you say, Martha, 'the munchies'?"

Matt glanced at Peter Wohl and found Wohl's thoughtful eyes already on him.

There was the muted sound of a telephone ringing, and Evans opened a small door in the low brick wall and took out a telephone.

"One moment, please, sir," he said, and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Are you available to take a call from a Lieutenant Malone, Inspector?"

"Sure," Wohl said, and got up and took the telephone from Evans.

"God," Pekach said. "I didn't think to ask him! Peter, let me talk to him when you're through."

"Hello, Mike," Wohl said. "What's up?" He paused. "Wait a minute, Captain Pekach wants to talk to you." He covered the microphone with his hand. "He says he needs to talk to me."

Pekach nodded, and took the phone.

"Mike, where are you? I've been trying to get you on the phone." There was a reply. "Okay, well, you come over here. No, you won't be intruding."

He handed the telephone back to Evans and turned to Wohl.

"He was over at your place. He'll be here in ten minutes. He say what was on his mind?"

Wohl shook his head no. "Thank you, David. I really didn't want to leave before the steak."

"I should have invited him, anyway. I don't know why I didn't."

"Probably for the same reason you don't read departmental teletypes," Wohl said. He saw on Pekach's face that he had stung him more than he intended, and quickly added: "You're in love. People in love are unreliable."

"I don't think I like that," Martha said in mock indignation.

Lieutenant Malone, in slacks and a cotton jacket, drove up the drive ten minutes later in his personal automobile, a battered Mustang that always made Peter Wohl wonder what Malone had on the State Certified Inspection Station garage that had certified it as safe for passage on the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania's public roads.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he said, when he came into the barbecue pit.

"You're not," Martha said. "David's been trying to get you on the phone ever since we decided to do this. Will what you have to tell Peter wait until after you've had a drink?"

"Unless one of Dave's cars has run into a station wagon full of nuns it will," Wohl said.

"Yes, thank you. Scotch, please."

Malone spotted Matt and smiled at him.

"Hello, Matt," he said.

"How are you, Lieutenant?"

Malone spotted Penelope Detweiler, looked hard to make sure it was she, and then looked away.

Wohl went to Penny, put his arm around her shoulders, and led her to Malone.

"Penny, I want you to meet the man who put one of your father's golf partners in jail," he said. "This is Lieutenant Jack Malone."

"One of Daddy's golf partners? Really? Who?"

"Bob Holland," Wohl said. "Philadelphia's Friendliest Car Dealer of Integrity."

"Oh, I heard about that!" Penny said. "He was stealing cars, wasn' t he?"

"By the hundreds," Wohl said. "And Jack was the guy who caught him."

Malone looked torn between pleasure and embarrassment.

But he has also decided, Matt saw, that being somewhere with Penny Detweiler was no cause for being uncomfortable. If Peter Wohl had a friendly arm around her shoulders, she was all right.

That was a goddammed nice thing for you to do, boss. And if it incidentally makes me feel like a shit, 1 deserve it.

"Is what's on your mind going to take long, Jack?" Wohl asked.

"No, sir."

"Then why don't we take our drinks and wander off in the woods for a minute and get it over with? Will you excuse us, Penny?"

"Certainly," Penny said. "Nice to have met you, Lieutenant. I can' t wait to tell my father."

When Wohl and Malone were out of earshot, Penny touched Matt's arm and when he looked at her, she said, "He's really nice, isn't he? I like your friends, Matt."

Wohl led Malone fifty yards away from the barbecue pit and then stopped.

"Okay, let's have it," he said.

"I had a call from the Secret Service this morning," Malone replied. "A guy named H. Charles Larkin.Supervisory Special Agent H. Charles Larkin."

"How did he get to you?"

"I told you that Dignitary Protection sergeant, Henkels, has a room temperature IQ. Larkin called him, and he gave him my number."

"What did this guy want?"

"He said that he was the guy in charge of the Vice President's security; that he was coming up here by train in the morning; and that I'm 'invited' to the Philly office of the Secret Service at ninethirty to discuss the Vice President's visit."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Wohl thought aloud, "and I can't believe this guy doesn't know he's supposed to go through Captain Whatsisname Duffy in the Roundhouse."

"JackDuffy," Malone furnished. "Special assistant to the commissioner for inter-agency liaison."

Wohl looked at him and grunted. "What did you tell this guy?"

"That I would get back to him. And then I started looking for you."

"Have you got this guy's number?"

Malone nodded, and Wohl made a "follow me" gesture with his hand and led him back to the barbecue pit.

"Martha," he said. "I have to call Washington. May I use the phone? I'll have it billed to the Department, of course."

"Don't be silly. Just use the phone."

"Thank you," Wohl said, going to the cubicle in the brick wall where Evans had stored the telephone.

"Dave," he called. "I want you and Mike to hear this. And you too, Matt."

Pekach and Sabara walked over to him. Officer O'Mara, Matt thought, looked like he had just been told the Big Boys didn't want to play with him. And then Wohl saw the look on O'Mara's face too:

"And, of course, you too, O'Mara. You're supposed to be able to remind me of what I said."

"Yes, sir."

Wohl pointed to the phone. Malone took a notebook from his pocket, opened it, and found the number he had.

"Person to person, Jack," Wohl ordered.

The call went through very quickly. Malone put his hand over the microphone.

"They're ringing him."

Wohl took the telephone from Malone, and held it slightly away from his ear so the others would be able to hear both sides of the conversation.

"Larkin," a somewhat brusque voice said.

"Mr. Larkin, this is Inspector Peter Wohl of the Special Operations Division of the Philadelphia Police Department."

"What can I do for you, Inspector?"

"That's what I intended to ask you. You called one of my people, Lieutenant Malone, an hour or so ago."

"Oh, yeah. I asked him to come by our Philadelphia office in the morning. Is there a problem with that?"

"I'm afraid there is. I'm not free at that time."

"Is there sort of an inference in that that I should have called you, not this lieutenant?"

"That would have been nice. Dignitary Protection is under Special Operations. I run Special Operations."

"I thought it was run out of the commissioner's office."

"Not anymore."

"Oh, shit," Larkin said. "Okay, Inspector. You tell me. How do I make this right?"

"Are you open to suggestion?"

"Wide open."

"I was going to suggest…I understand you're coming by train?"

"Right. Arriving at 30^th Street at nine-oh-five."

"I was going to suggest that I have one of my men, Detective Payne, pick you up at 30^th Street and bring you by my office. By then, with a little luck, I can have my desk cleared for you."

There was a long pause before Larkin replied.

"That's very kind of you, Inspector," he said, finally.

"Detective Payne will be waiting for you at the information booth in the main waiting room," Wohl said.

"How will I know him? What does he look like?"

Wohl's mouth ran away with him: "Like a Brooks Brothers advertisement. What about you?"

Larkin chuckled. "Like a Brooks Brothers advertisement? Tell him to look for a bald fat man in a rumpled suit. Thanks for the call, Inspector."

There was a click on the line.

Wohl took the handset from his ear, held it in front of him, and looked at it for a moment before replacing it in its cradle.

"Tom," he said to Officer O'Mara as he tossed him a set of keys, " either tonight or first thing in the morning go get a car from the Schoolhouse, drop it at my apartment, and take my Department car. Pick Payne up at no later than eight-fifteen at his apartment. He lives on Rittenhouse Square, he'll tell you where."

"Yes, sir."

"Jack, I want you in uniform tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"And I would be grateful if you two," he said, nodding at Pekach and Sabara, "could just happen to drop by the Schoolhouse a little after nine. You in uniform, Dave."

Pekach nodded.

"And between now and nine tomorrow morning, I want the more lurid graffiti removed from the men's room walls.Supervisory Special Agent Larkin may experience the call of nature, and we don't want to offend him."

"I'll drop by the Schoolhouse on my way home," Sabara said, "and be outraged at what I find on the toilet's walls."

"We are not about to start a guerrilla war against the Secret Service," Wohl said. "But on the other hand, I want to make sure that Larkin understands that Special Operations is a division of the Philadelphia Police Department, not of the Secret Service."

"I think you made that point, Peter," Sabara said.

Matt saw H. Richard Detweiler and Brewster C. Payne II sitting at a cast-iron table on the flagstone area outside the library of the Detweiler mansion, dressed in what Matt thought of as their drive-tothe-golf-club clothes when he drove up.

There goes any chance I had of just dropping Penny off. Damn!

"Your dad's here," Penny said.

"I saw them," Matt said, and turned the ignition off and got out of the car and started up the shallow flight of stairs to the front door.

Miss Penelope Detweiler waited in vain for Matt to open her door, finally opened it herself, got out, and walked after him.

Grace Detweiler came into the foyer as they entered. Behind her, in the "small" sitting room, he saw his mother, who saw him and waved cheerfully.

"Well, did you have a good time?" Grace Detweiler asked.

"Oh, yes!" Penny said enthusiastically.

"She especially liked the part where Dave Pekach bit the head off the rooster," Matt said.

"Matt!" Grace Detweiler said indignantly.

Matt saw his mother smiling. They shared a sense of humor. It was one of many reasons that he was extraordinarily fond of her.

"If you will excuse me, ladies, I will now go kiss my frail and aged mother."

"You can go to hell, Matthew Payne," Patricia Payne said, getting up and tilting her cheek to him for a kiss. "'Frail and aged'!"

She took his arm and led him toward the door to the library.

"You look very nice," she said. "Was that for Penny's benefit?"

"I didn't even know she was going to be there. Madame D. and Martha Peebles sandbagged me with that."

His mother looked at him for a moment and then said, "Well, thank you for not making that clear to Penny. Obviously, she had a good time, and that was good for her."

"I get a gold star to take home to Mommy, right?"

"Daddy," his mother replied. "He's with Penny's father out there." She made a gesture toward the veranda outside the library, then added, "Matt, it's always nice if you can make someone happy, particularly someone who needs, desperately, a little happiness."

She squeezed his arm, and then turned back toward the "small" sitting room.The sitting room of the Detweiler mansion was on the second floor, and Matt could never remember ever seeing anyone in it, except during parties.

H. Richard Detweiler got out of his chair and, beaming, offered Matt his hand.

"Hello, Matt," he said. "Sit down and help us finish the bottle."

That's my gold star. Your usual greeting is a curt nod of the head. Until I became He-Upon-Whose-Strong-Shoulder-Precious-PennyLeans, I was tolerated only because of Dad.

"Hello, Mr. Detweiler."

"He's only being generous because he took all my money at the club," Brewster Payne said. "I couldn't stay out of the sand traps."

"Or the water," Detweiler said. "Scotch all right, Matt?"

"Fine. Thank you."

Matt reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, and then five one-hundred-dollar bills. When Detweiler handed him the drink, Matt handed him the money.

"What's this?"

"The expense money. I didn't need it."

Detweiler took the money and held it for a moment before tucking it in the pocket of his open-collared plaid shirt.

"I didn't expect any back, and I was just about to say, 'Matt, go buy yourself something,' but you don't try to pay dear friends for an act of love, do you?"

Oh, shit!

Matt turned away in embarrassment, saw a cast-iron love seat, walked to it, and sat down.

"He doesn't need your money, Dick," Brewster C. Payne said. "He made a killing at the tables."

"Really?"

"More than six thousand," Brewster Payne said.

"I didn't know you were a gambler," Detweiler said.

"I'm not. That was my first time. Beginner's luck."

Detweiler, Matt thought, seemed relieved.

"You understand that the money I took from your father today," Detweiler went on, "is not really gambling."

"More beginner's luck?" Matt asked innocently.

His father laughed heartily.

"I meant, not really gambling. Gambling can get you in a lot of trouble in a hurry."

That's why you give your guests at the Flamingo a ten-thousanddollar line of credit, right? So they'll get in a lot of trouble in a hurry?

"Yes, sir," Matt said. He took a sip of his Scotch. "Nice booze."

"It's a straight malt, whatever that means," Detweiler said, "it suggests there's a crooked malt."

Penny Detweiler, trailed by her mother and Mrs. Payne, came onto the veranda. She had a long-necked bottle of Ortlieb's and a glass in her hands.

"What's that?" Detweiler asked.

"It's what Matt's been drinking all afternoon," Penny said. "When did you start drinking whiskey?"

"As nearly as I can remember, when I was eleven or twelve."

"No, he didn't," Patricia Payne said.

"Yes, he did, dear," Brewster Payne said. "We just managed to keep it from you."

Penny sat beside Matt on the cast-iron love seat.

"What am I suppose to do with this?" she asked.

"You might try drinking it," Matt said.

"Penny…" Grace Detweiler said warningly.

"A glass of beer isn't going to hurt her," her father said. "She's with friends and family."

There was a moment's awkward silence, and then Penny put the glass on the flagstone floor and put the neck of the bottle to her mouth. Her mother looked very uncomfortable.

"Did you have a good time at Martha Peebles's, Precious?" Detweiler asked.

"Very nice," she said. "And her captain is just darling!"

"Polish, isn't he?" Detweiler said.

"Don't be a snob, Daddy," Penny said. "He's very nice, and they're very much in love."

"I'm happy for her," Patricia Payne said. "She's at the age where she should have a little romance in her life. And living in that big house all alone…"

"I would have bet she'd never get married," Detweiler said.

"Her father was one hell of a man. Alexander Peebles is a tough act to follow."

"I thought about that," Penny said. "And I think that it has a lot to do with Captain Pekach being a cop." She stopped and turned to Matt, and her hand dropped onto his leg. "Does that embarrass you, Matt?"

"Not at all. I thought everyone knew that women find cops irresistible."

"Good God!" his father said.

"I mean it," Penny went on. "I was talking with Matt's boss, Inspector Wohl, and he's darling too…"

"Ex-boss," Brewster Payne interrupted.

"Please let me finish, Uncle Brew," Penny said.

"Sorry."

"I was talking to Inspector Wohl, and he moved, his jacket moved, and I could see that he was carrying a gun, and it occurred to me that every man in the barbecue pit, Martha's Captain Pekach, Captain Sabara, Lieutenant Malone, Matt, and even a young Irish boy who works for Inspector Wohl, was carrying a gun."

"They have to, I believe, Penny," Brewster C. Payne said. "Even off duty."

"Not here, I hope," Grace Detweiler said.

"Even here, Madame D.," Matt said.

"As I was saying," Penny went on, annoyance at being interrupted in her voice, "I realized that although they looked like ordinary people, they weren't."

For one thing, Matt thought, they make a hell of a lot less money than the people you think of as ordinary do.

He said, "We only bite the heads off roosters on special occasions, Penny. Barbecues. Wakes. Bar Mitzvahs. Things like that. We probably won't do it again for a month."

She turned to him again, and again her hand dropped to his leg.

"Will you stop?" she giggled. "I'm trying to say something flattering."

"Then, proceed, by all means."

"I realized that they were all-what was it you said about Mr. Peebles, Daddy?-'One hell of a man.' They're all special men. I can understand why Martha fell in love with Captain Pekach. He's one hell of a man."

I am wholly convinced that your hand on my leg, Precious Penny, is absolutely innocent; you have always been one of those kiss-kiss, touch-touch airheads. Nevertheless, I wish you would take it off. You are about to give me a hard-on.

Matt stood up and went to the table and splashed more Scotch into his glass. He did not return to the cast-iron love seat.

"You may very well be right, dear," Matt's mother said.

"Thank you," Penny said. She looked over at Matt. "You do work for Inspector Wohl, don't you, Matt?"

He nodded.

"Then what did you mean, Uncle Brew, when you said 'ex-boss'?"

"I've been transferred back to Special Operations, Dad," Matt said.

"When did that happen?"

"Yesterday."

"What are you going to do over there, as a detective?"

"Well, for one thing," Penny said proudly, "he's going to protect the Vice President when he comes to Philadelphia."

Jesus, you have ears like a fox, don't you?

"What I'm going to do," Matt said quickly, "is meet theSecret Service guy who is going to protect the Vice President at 30^th Street Station."

And that gives me my excuse to get out of here.

"I don't understand," Brewster Payne said.

"He and Wohl are playing King of the Mountain," Matt said. "He wanted our guy to go to the Secret Service office. Wohl wanted him to come to his. Wohl won. I pick up this guy at 30^th Street Station in the morning, and drive him to see Wohl." He looked at his watch. " Which means I have to leave now if I am to have a nice clean suit to wear to meet this guy."

"Oh, finish your drink," H. Richard Detweiler said. "And are you sure you don't want something to eat?"

"I had a steak an hour ago that must have weighed three pounds," Matt said. "Thank you, no."

He drained his drink and set it on the table.

"I know you're busy, dear," his mother said, "but if you could try to find time in your schedule to come see your frail and aged mother, I would be so grateful."

H. Richard Detweiler stood up and shook Matt's hand in both of his.

"Thank you, Matt. Don't be a stranger."

"Thank you, sir."

"I think I left my scarf in your car," Penny said. "I'll walk you out."

When they got to the Porsche, she said, "I didn't have a scarf. I just wanted to thank you for being so nice to me."

"No thanks necessary," he said, and then his mouth ran away with him. "Whenever I'm with a pretty blonde, I automatically shift into the seduce mode. Nothing personal."

She seemed startled for a moment, but only for a moment.

"Just to clear the air," Penny said. "It worked."

And her hand, ever so lightly, but obviously intentionally, grazed his crotch.

"I'd let you kiss me, but they're watching."

She stepped away from him, and said, loud enough for their parents to hear, "You heard what Daddy said, don't be a stranger."

He got quickly into the Porsche and drove away.