Joey swept up a pile of dust and deposited it into a plastic garbage bag. "Do you?"

      "I asked you first."

      "I don't know."

      "If you don't know, then maybe we are."

      "Well, maybe. But it's kind of too late to back out now."

      "No, it's not."

      "Yes, it is," said Maurice Tolliver as he came to fetch the last two cardboard boxes. "I'll be damned if I'm going to unpack that U-Haul and drag everything back up here."

      "It's not nice to eavesdrop, Maurice," Joey said.

      "Slave labor has that privilege. Next time, I'll mind my own business and charge you the rate professional movers get."

      "You've done a splendid job, Maurice," Alison said. "We'll meet you out front in just a few minutes."

      "OK, OK. I can take a hint."

      "Careful with those boxes," Joey said. "My head pot is in one of them."

      "Right."

      When he had left, Joey looked at Alison and said, "Are you getting cold feet? Is that what's going on?"

      She shrugged and chewed a strand of hair. "Well, you sound pretty ambivalent about this whole thing. That's got me a bit worried."

      "Why?"

      "Joey, in a few minutes, we're going to get into my car, haul our worldly possessions down to Los Angeles and move in together. That's a big step. It shouldn't be a half-hearted, half-assed operation."

      "Alison, LA isn't my favorite place in the world. You know that. So if I seem a little half-hearted, it's because I'm slightly ambivalent about our destination, not about you."

      Alison sighed. "Well, I'm not sure I can say the same thing, Joey."

      "Ah. Then maybe we do have a problem."

      She came over, took the broom away from him and made him sit down on the floor. She sat facing him and said, "Don't get all pouty. All I'm saying is, it's been a crazy four weeks since the whole thing with Concasseur ended. Maybe things are moving too fast."

      He held her hand. "Let's cut to the chase, Alison. What you're really saying is that you don't know whether to trust me or not. Isn't that right?"

      "No. I mean --"

      "C'mon. At least be honest about it. You're wondering when the old Joey is going to come back, the one who lived in a rathole and never washed his socks. You're afraid you're going to be stuck in LA with Joey the Selfish Shit."

      She shook her head. "No, that's not it. It's -- this is going to sound so nuts -- it's that I'm scared you're going to turn normal on me, Spelvin."

      She gazed at him with such concern that he felt bad about laughing. He couldn't help it, though. "Fat chance of that. I'm an amateur voodoo priest, remember?"

      "You act different. You dress different. You look different."

      "My normal hair is starting to come back in. I got rid of the stupid mustache."

      "You even sold your prized collection of slasher videos. What am I supposed to make of that?"

      "That I can use the three hundred bucks I got for it."

      "Joey, the collection was worth more than that as blank tape." She looked down at his hand on hers. "I don't want you becoming bland and predictable. I've had enough of that with other people."

      He stood, gently tugging on her arm until she got up, too. "Here's the deal," he said. "We both want to get out of town for a while. You can find work in LA easier than anyplace else. Because I have unfinished business there and because I want to be with you, I'm willing to give La-la-land another shot.

      "Hey, but once we get there, we're not stuck with each other forever. I hope it doesn't happen, but if I get to be a drag or too much a pain in the ass, feel free to kick me out. I know how to get by in the world. I'll manage, and it won't be the end of our friendship."

      Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against his. "You say that now, but things are never that easy."

      "You could be right. But I really believe you and I have something special here."

      "Weird is not the same thing as special."

      "Funny. Do you want to go or not?"

      "What the hell. Why not?"

      "My sentiments exactly."

      Professor Eugene Rhinehart was waiting for them outside the apartment building. Banging his pipe on the side of the U-Haul trailer, he said, "Well, you two, I guess this is good- bye. I'm going to miss you both, but I wish you all the best."

      Alison gave him a hug. "Thanks, Gene. We'll be back to visit soon."

      "Maybe the farmhouse will be rebuilt by then. We could have all the members of Maurice's humfo over for a party or something."

      Joey said, "How's your prize patient doing these days?"

      Rhinehart smiled thinly. "Mr. Hartinger is resting quite comfortably at the UC Med Center and is providing the research team with a great deal of interesting data. Aside from approximately six months' worth of memory loss, he's rallying. His doctors can't figure out how he got a near-fatal dose of tetrodotoxin. They've called me in to consult on the case. I haven't shared my suspicions with them yet."

      "You may have to chalk it up as one of life's little mysteries."

      "I may, at that."

      Maurice arrived on the scene carrying a brown paper bag from a nearby grocery store. He said, "I got tired of waiting around and decided to get a snack. Anybody want a beer or some potato chips?"

      Everyone did. With refreshments distributed, Maurice said to Joey, "I saw your friend Al on my way back from the store. Do you want to say anything to him before you take off?"

      "I sure do. Where was he?"

      "Two blocks down and one street over. You can probably catch him. He was pushing a shopping cart with a broken wheel, so he's not likely to have made much headway."

      Joey handed his beer to Alison. "I won't be long." He jogged off in the direction Maurice had indicated.

      It took him about five minutes to find Al. He and his cart were parked outside a Vietnamese restaurant.

      Joey crossed the street and called, "Hey, Al! How's it going? Long time, no see."

      Al squinted at him and scratched at a week's growth of brown beard. "Spare change, mister?"

      "Al, it's me, Joey Spelvin."

      "The mayor has a pet pig. I've seen it. Rats as big as pigeons. Cats as big as cucumbers. She said that I should talk to the man about it, but the window wasn't open. Spare change?"

      Joey hadn't seen him this bad in a long time. He tugged at the sleeve of Al's misbuttoned jacket and said, "It's Joey, Al. I'm one of your friends. You helped me out a while back. I'm leaving for Los Angeles today, but I wanted to thank you and say good-bye."

      Al's eyes were red and glassy, his features slack. "He may have walked on the moon, but he's still a liar. I've had lunch there, and I should know."

      There was no point in continuing this conversation. In a day or two, Al would probably be back to his usual self, this psychic squall having passed. But Joey couldn't wait for that.

      He took out his wallet and extracted an envelope from it. He pressed it into Al's hand and held it there. "This is three hundred bucks, Al. I want you to have it. Spend it however you like. Just don't let anyone kill you for it, that's all I ask."

      Al showed no sign of emotion as he lifted his Niner's cap and placed the envelope beneath it. "The Pope eats breakfast at Denny's. It's like that sometimes when no one's around to watch you read the book. You got any spare change, mister?"

      Joey patted him on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Al. Hang tough." He walked away.

      As he headed towards his apartment, he surveyed the neighborhood, wondering how long it would be before he returned. Los Angeles was only a day's drive away, but there were times when he felt that it lay on the other side of the planet. He knew that once he and Alison got settled in there, they weren't likely to make it to the Bay Area more than once or twice a year, no matter what they promised their friends.

      He had his doubts about moving, more than he let on to Alison. He just didn't see any way around it. Not only because she craved a change of scenery and wanted to be closer to her family. But also because it was time for him to make peace with the past.

      At least, that's what Tom and Jeff told him. Dying had turned them into such know-it-alls.

      They showed up in his dreams about once a week, pestering him to make the move. Not necessarily forever. But at least long enough to pay his respects to them and to their mother and father. They claimed he should make a concerted effort to find out what had happened to the Spelvin estate and to tie up any dangling loose ends.

      Joey wasn't fooled. He knew they were only parroting what Ogu told them to say. It was the loa who was overly concerned with familial duty and obligation. Tom and Jeff just liked to get on his case.

      Joey said he would try to put things in order. He meant it. The twins had seemed satisfied.

      He hoped Ogu would be. too. With Concasseur dead, Crossroads had folded and the petro loas had lost their hold on the Bay Area. Having won the Battle of the Crossroads, Ogu was pretty full of himself these days. Joey wanted no part of any further grandiose schemes his loa mai^t'-te^te might be contemplating.

      When he arrived at his building, Alison was behind the wheel of the Mazda. Joey got in beside her. In the back, Ming meowed unhappily in her plastic carrying case.

      Maurice leaned in through the rolled-down window and said to Joey, "You'll be seeing Chantal soon, won't you?"

      "Probably."

      Tom, Jeff and Ogu weren't the only ones chivvying him to move to Los Angeles. Now that she was nearly recovered from the wounds suffered at Glen Ellen, Chantal wanted him to continue his vodoun training with her. "You have been blessed with great gifts, Joey," she had said the last time they met, as she was being discharged from the Santa Rosa Hospital. "You would be wise not to squander them."

      He wasn't so sure about that. He might be a lot happier if the gods of vodoun stayed out of his life.

      Maurice said, "Please say hello to her for me. Without Claude to rely on, it's going to be a struggle to keep our humfo going. I may have to call on her for advice from time to time."

      "And I'm sure that has nothing to do with the fact that she's the sexiest one-eyed mambo you've ever met."

      Maurice grinned sheepishly. "Just give her my regards, all right?"

      "Don't worry. I'll put in a good word."

      "We'd better get going if we're going to make it to LA before midnight," Alison said. She called out, "Bye, you guys! Thanks for everything." She tooted the horn. They waved at Maurice and Rhinehart, and then they were off.

      They drove in silence for a while, watching familiar sights scroll past the windows. When they reached the city limits, it was Alison who said, "We're going to miss this place, aren't we?"

      He had been thinking exactly the same thing. "Uh huh. But I think we both need a break from it. Put some things behind us."

      "Right." She shot a sidewise glance at him. "Speaking of which, did I tell you I ran into Brad last night?"

      That made him sit up in his seat. "Where?"

      "In Berkeley, after I cleared my stuff out of my apartment. I went for a quick bite to eat and saw him in the restaurant. At first I couldn't believe it was him, but there he was, plain as day."

      "What did you do?"

      "Not much, except get out of there real fast. I felt weird, both frightened and relieved. Like, I didn't want to have anything to do with him, but I was so damned glad that I hadn't killed him."

      "Did he see you?"

      "That was the strangest part of it. Brad looked right at me, but his expression didn't change at all. It was as if he didn't even know me." She changed lanes and thought for moment. "Maybe he really didn't see me. One of his eyes looked damaged. It had a kind of yellow film over it."

      The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Words he had heard nearly a month ago came back to him. Our friend Marcel has undoubtedly availed himself of one of the spare bodies I keep around the house.

      "Joey? Are you all right?"

      He grinned weakly. "Sure. Just a little carsick."

      "Crack your window, and let in some fresh air."

      He would tell her. She would want to know.

      But not today. It could wait.

      He lightly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. She kissed his fingers. He turned and looked out the back windshield.

      He watched San Francisco recede into the distance and sent a silent prayer to Ogu.