She put her hand on my arm. "I'm joking."
After another pause, I asked, "How's George?"
"He wasn't invited to the funeral."
"Right."
She said, "Thank you for the money, by the way. We decided to give it to charity. Twenty-two million dollars to the Old Soldier's Home, in Lisa's name and memory."
Oh, yes, the money. Remember when I mentioned Clapper and I had that little chat? Well, I agreed to turn over my loot, but insisted that my lawyer, Janet Morrow, had earned her cut for fair and valid legal services rendered. She was not a federal employee, I had hired her for her services, and no law in the land could deprive her of that cash. He got back on the horn to the JAG School, and they agreed I had a good point. But half the money was out of the question; I'd been overly generous, they insisted. Well, I couldn't argue with that, and I didn't try. The generally accepted legal fee was one-third, approximately twenty-two million.
I informed Janet, "She would've liked that." I saw old Felix up at the top of the hill, waiting patiently. I said, "She had a thing for old soldiers."
"Yes, I think you're right."
After a quiet moment, I said, "Well, listen, I better get back to work. I'm back to working criminal cases, incidentally."
I started to walk away, and Janet said, "Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Do you think . . . would Lisa . . . would she be upset if I became involved with you?"
"She'd tell you you're nuts."
"I suppose you're right."
I took three more steps before I turned around. "What hotel did you say you're staying at?"
"The Four Seasons again."
"Nice place."
She nodded.
I took three more steps and turned around again. "Seven o'clock sharp. I swear I won't be late."
She shook her head. "Take your time, I've still got my gun."