This was going to take some time. And a few more rounds of drinks. The three of us clustered at the end of the bar beneath a huge stuffed bison head. Sal perched sullen on her stool, draining her Campari on ice through a narrow red straw until the slurping noise of an empty glass caused her to stop. Morris still had a couple of swallows of draft beer at the bottom of his mug. And I politely nursed my bourbon, waiting until everyone else had finished their first drink of the evening. At which point I’d down it and get everyone a fresh round. Rinse and repeat as needed.

“But this is good,” I said. “Right? A start. A fresh start with the three of us together again.”

“Is that so?” That was more than I had expected from Sal. It was a start. A good start. “He’s waiting on you,” Sal added, waving her hand at Morris.

Even better. Now she’s talking to Morris.

‘What?” he asked, looking up from the bowl of peanuts.

“Drink up,” Sal told him. She pointed at me with her thumb and repeated herself to Morris. “He’s waiting.”

“Oh, right,” Morris said, gulping the rest of his beer.

I finished my bourbon and motioned the bartender for another round.

“It was the creepy one,” Sal said. “August.”

“What?” asked Morris.

“The guy who killed Hal,” she added. “One of the audience members. The quiet man with the shaved head and weak chin in the first row.”

“They’re all quiet,” said Morris.

“Quiet and attentive.” Sal took a deep breath and then shuddered. “Like a spider.”

“Good theory,” I said. “He is an odd one.”

The drinks arrived.

“Theory?” Sal laughed. “It is a fact. I know. Right? Know.” Sal brought her hands up to the side of her head, wiggling her fingers.

“Right.” I nodded. I got it. “Of course.”

“I knew he was a psychopath from day one,” she said. “Me and Rose, we had him pegged. He’s got Lydia absolutely snowed.” Sal looked over at Morris. “That’s Dr. Lydia Hetzel, our resident shrink.” Then she swiveled her head back in my direction. “Lydia’s not the hardened clinician she wants us all to think. Too trusting. She’s the one I thought August would kill first.”

That made sense to me. Lydia had a naive streak that a psychopath would find very attractive. I mean, so I would assume.

There was movement behind me, but before I could turn around a vaguely familiar young woman stuck her head in between me and Morris.

“Well, what a coincidence bumping into you,” she said to Morris. “And you’re here with your new work buddies.”

Some new conquest of his? The thing about Morris is, he doesn’t have a type. He’s pretty much drawn to anyone who will give him the time of day.

Did that come out too spiteful? Not my intention. We don’t hold such behavior against, say, a puppy, do we? Of course not. And everyone loves a puppy.

The young woman was chuckling to herself.

“Oh, me,” she said in a sort of singsong voice. “I can’t lie. I just cannot. No coincidence at all. I wanted to come join you guys. As a matter of fact, I rushed off so fast to follow you, that I left my tool belt behind. Not that I need it here. Besides, it makes it easier to sneak up on people without all that stuff dangling from me.”

Tool belt? I looked closer. She wore familiar coveralls. That was when I made the connection. She worked with that building maintenance guy at La Vida Tower.

“Hello, Nora,” Morris said. He got up and dragged over another stool.

“It’s the elevator girl,” Sal said with an odd smile as she moved the ice around in her glass with her straw. At first, I thought it was jealousy, but, no. It appeared that Sal genuinely liked the woman. Besides, I’m sure any possible spark of possessiveness she might have once felt for Morris had long ago been extinguished. At least I hoped so.

“Am I the only one not to have been introduced to your charming friend?” I asked of Morris.

“My name’s Nora,” she said, offering her hand.

“Silverio Moreno,” I said as I clasped her hand in mine. “In case you didn’t recognize me out of my professional attire. And, please, call me Sy.”

Usually my presence, or at least my, name elicits a stronger response than the pleasant smile she gave me.

“You’re talking about that skinny guy who looks like a turtle, right?” she said, her eyes wide. “I saw him the other night—”

“In the elevator?” Morris asked in a teasing tone.

Nora’s smile evaporated. She cut her eyes at Morris.

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“What?” Morris stiffened. “I was joking. You mean he’s got access to the elevators?” Morris looked around, as if August might have slipped into the bar.

“I don’t think he can leave the building,” Nora said.

“If he can get on the elevator,” said Morris, “I assure you, he can leave the building. There’s no security in the lobby, that’s for sure.”

“No, not like that. It’s, um.…” She squirmed uncomfortably on her stool, as if searching for words. “Some spooky stuff. The lower he went on the elevator, the less he was, well, there.”

Nora seemed perplexed that neither Sal nor I showed much curiosity about what she was saying. The fact was, we weren’t surprised. But Morris was.

“What do you mean?” asked Morris, perhaps more curious than surprised.

“He was flashing in and out,” she whispered dramatically. “Parts of him were turning spongy like chewing gum. It was like he was transforming into…well I don’t know what. But it was hurting him. Poor thing.”

“Poor thing?” Sal glanced around to see if anyone else might be displaying even the smallest scrap of pity. “He murdered a man!”

“Goodness.” Nora looked around the table. I don’t think she believed the man had killed anyone, death being a thing of the past and all. “Well, at least he won’t be able to get out to harm the public. I mean, I don’t think he would be able to make his way down to the lobby and out the revolving doors. But what’s wrong with him? Is there some weird research laboratory up there?”

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“No, honey,” Sal said to Nora. “It’s not an experiment. Well, not exactly. August is a contestant on our show. All the contestants are housed on the 28th floor.”

“Oh, right. For that television game show you guys make.”

“Did he seem violent?” Morris asked.

“In distress, at first,” Nora said. “But once I got him back to the upper floors, he rallied. A very polite man.”

Sal snorted at the utterance of the word “polite.”

“Excuse me,” I said. “But everyone seems to be missing the elephant in the room.” All eyes turned towards me. I peered closer at Nora. She didn’t seem blind or particularly mentally deficient.

“This girl is apparently unfamiliar with Silverio and Saligia, stars of the most popular game show around.”

“Girl?” Nora bristled at that. “I’m not as young as you seem to think I am. Besides, we didn’t have television in Great Falls.”

“I meant no disrespect,” I said quietly before things escalated. “And the fact is, I have, on occasion, encountered people from the hinterlands who haven’t heard of Serpientes y Escaleras.” And it was true, of course. Take those wonderful folks on the shore of the Great Expanse. “My child, I am in no way trying to equate uncouth with simple ignorance.”

“Okay,” Nora said, still smiling, but lifting her chin in a defensive manner. “Now I’m starting to get offended.”

Suddenly I understood what Morris saw in her. This girl was no bubble-brained pushover.

“Offended by Sy, are you?” Sal said, attempting to wave down the bartender. “Join our little club.”

Nora had already shifted gears—clearly not one to grasp tight a passing emotion.

“So, you called the cops, right?” She made a low whistle. “I mean, murder!”

“Interesting quandary we’re in,” I explained. “Have you seen much in the way of law enforcement since the Changes?” I then smiled up as the bartender looked our way. I held up a three fingers indicating another round.

“Well, I guess not,” Nora said. “But Great Falls is a pretty small town.”

“And whatever our new friend would like,” I called over to the bartender.

“Oh!” Nora brightened. “I’ll have a Shirley Temple. Heavy on the grenadine and with a shot of vodka.”

As the bartender began mixing our drinks, I thought to bring our new friend up to speed.

“I don’t know how things are in Grand Falls—”

“Great Falls.”

“—but you might have noticed that in this town, the standard bureaucracies are mostly absent. And, strangely—or not so strangely, perhaps—seemingly unnecessary.”

“Yes, but,” Nora repeated, “murder! Shouldn’t someone be notified?”

“I believe Rose took the matter to Ida,” Sal said. “For what that’s worth.”

Ida? That sounded like a horrible idea to me. But what was done was done.

“Then it’s not our problem anymore,” I said. “It’s the Network’s.”

Sal laughed without humor.

“Until that man is removed,” she said, “I won’t feel any safer.”

“I shouldn’t think,” Nora said. “I mean some of you live in that building.”

“It wasn’t pretty,” Morris said glumly as he fidgeted with a sodden cardboard coaster. “The way the man’s neck was broken.”

Nora’s hand short to her throat as she gasped. Why did Morris go putting ugly images in that poor child’s head?

“Consider him under house arrest,” I said to placate Nora’s fears. This was no time for fear. I wanted celebration. It all felt so warm. So right. “Isn’t this nice, though? Us. Back together again. The three of us. Well,” I grinned at Nora. She was growing on me. “Plus one.”

“Don’t go changing the subject,” Nora exclaimed. “Maybe you’re fine with roving killers, but I live in that building, too!”

“You?” That didn’t sound right. La Vida Tower was nothing if not exclusive. “You have an apartment in La Vida Tower?”

Wait, was I coming off as a snob?

“It came with the job,” she said defensively and gave me a challenging glare. Then she looked away. “Well, it’s a little efficiency. In the basement.”

“Oh, the basement.” That made more sense. “You couldn’t be safer. As you yourself witnessed, our villain could never make it down to the basement.”

Nora looked over at Sal. Apparently, I wasn’t trustworthy enough. I needed to brush up on my people skills, I guess.

Sal’s nod seemed to relieve the girl.

When my drink arrived, I scooped it up with a graceful movement I’d seen William Holden do in some late night movie and drank it down. I placed a wad of cash on the bar—enough for Morris and his friend to keep drinking—and stood up.

“Well, I for one, have hit my limit,” I said, turning to Sal. “Shall we?”

I don’t know if it was the drink, the company, or the exciting evening, but I was a bit unsteady on my feet. It was a wonderful feeling! As she stood, Sal shot a glance towards Morris. They still had some unfinished business. But now that the three of us were back together, there’d be plenty of time for that.

Sal gulped down the Campari which had just been placed before her. She let out a long, low sigh.

“Sure. Let’s go back home and try not to get murdered.”

We left Morris and Nora at the bar.

On the walk back to La Vida Tower, I threw my arm around Sal’s shoulder and looked up at the stars.

“I had high hopes for Serpientes y Escaleras, Sal. Remember? Back in the early days?”

“What I remember most, Sy, was that huge pasteboard diagram you used to hide behind the curtain on that rolling room divider. Afraid that the Network spies might see the machinations of your grand two-year plan.”

“I admit I’ve fallen behind somewhat.”

“Whatever happened to that diagram?”

“It’s in storage behind Cleo’s old tank that she outgrew.”

“It wasn’t terribly feasible, was it?” Sal asked with a laugh.

“There’s always a way. Always. And now that we have Morris back on the team, I want to get back to that plan. Door Number Three!”

“Won’t work.”

“With Morris on our side, up in the booth, we can do anything. Hal would have cut the feed the moment anyone from the Network started to panic. Now? We will have complete control.”

Door Number Three. It was the most audacious of all options. Certainly so for the contestants. Not to Paradise. Not to Perdition. Neither up nor down the karmic ladder. Not Door Number One. No. Not Door Number Two. But Door Number Three. A series of doors, really. Out the studio, down the elevator, and through the revolving doors of La Vida Tower onto the breezy streets of San Antonio. Simple. But profoundly revolutionary.

“You know that can’t happen,” she said.

“We muck up the status quo. Upend the paradigm.”

“That’s not how you pronounce paradigm.”

“It is when you want it to rhyme with upend. And I’m sure if we put our heads together we can figure out how to make it happen.”

“We’ve tried,” Sal said. “The outcome is ugly.”

“We need to try harder.”

“If you really want to threaten the status quo,” Sal said. “Bring a camera into the elevator with one of the contestants and take him or her down to the lobby. Let the world see what Nora saw when August pushed the Down button.”

“That’d be extreme,” I said. “But it’d be honest. The problem is, we don’t have wireless cameras.”

“I was being facetious.”

“Hmm. I’ve fixed the problem with video recording.” I was intrigued by Sal’s simple notion. “But for your idea to work, it would have to be live. How difficult, I wonder, would it be to drop a length of video cable down the elevator shaft? Morris’ friend, Nora! She’s on our team, right?”

“Sure, Sy. Whatever you say.”

“We need to move Morris into the penthouse with us!” It was the obvious next step. I pulled Sal in closer. “We’ve got so much room.”

That made me wonder if he wasn’t already living in La Vida Tower, crammed in that little basement efficiency with Nora.

“Right,” Sal muttered. “Let’s all move in together. Because that worked so well in the past.”

I ignored Sal’s sarcasm. It had worked well. On occasion.

“And Rose,” I added. “She has an important role in all this. I can feel it. But we have to get her over that absurd obsession about her dead brother.”

“And what would that be?” Sal asked me.

Was she truly unaware? The all-knowing Saligia Jones?

“She got the job on our show in hopes that her dead brother will pop in on us via an arrival pod. Then she can, oh, I don’t know. Say goodbye to him properly? Something like that. It’s so absurdly unlikely. One in a million chance.”

“You’re wrong, Sy. Rose is here because her brother has already been on the show.”

“No!”

“Early in Season Two.”

“Well, that gives me something new to think about.” In fact, it gave me too much to think about. Where to begin? The sheer coincidence. One in a million, right? Probably one in two million! I was wondering how well Sal recalled that episode, but I didn’t have to wonder long.

“He was very confused. Befuddled. I managed to spare our Readers and the audience from the most disturbing interludes of his life. There was so much tragedy with him.”

“You’ve talked to Rose about this?” I asked.

Sal shook her head and walked beside me in silence.

“I’m thinking our Rose is one of two things,” I mused aloud. “She’s come to infiltrate herself amongst us to exact revenge because we turned her brother into a piece of entertainment, in which case she’s a potential assassin!”

“Oh, good lord, Sy,” Sal said.

“Or, she’s come for answers. Like a detective!”

“She wants to know where he went.” Sal said it with the authority of someone who had been in Rose’s mind.

So, detective. I knew it! Though I would have held no malice toward Rose Aguilar, Girl Assassin.

But my intuition had been correct. Rose had a very important role in all this. Maybe the most important.

“I see amazing things before us!”

“You’re drunk, Sy.”

Sal was right. And it was wonderful!