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The drive back to the city was a long one. I was determined not to spend them in silence. I figured Amanda could help me to fill in some of the gaps that had punched their way into our evening.

"Amanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Back at Le Fleur. That guy, Halloway, was about ready to split me in two. But he didn't. Why?" I remembered seeing a syringe in his back after he collapsed, but I wondered if Amanda would explain it, or just concoct another lie.

"I jabbed a needle full of barbital into him." Bull's eye.

"And, uh...where exactly do you go about having a needle full of high-strength barbiturate in your purse?" In my head, I began tallying up the felonies that Amanda and I had embarked upon in the past 12 hours.

"You never know when it could come in handy. Why should you complain? It saved your life."

"I'm not complaining! I'm glad you had it with you. It's just a little odd to have a big needle of industrial strength sedative in one's purse." Uh-oh. Maybe I had just opened up a whole big can of worms that shouldn't have been opened. Too late. I was knee-deep into it now. I had no choice but to pursue this topic to its end. "Amanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there any particular reason why you -- specifically -- would have a big syringe of barbital in your purse? Any medical reason? Psychiatric?"

"You mean, 'Am I nuts?'"

"No! No, I don't mean that." Of course I meant that. If Amanda needed barbital and she had injected the last of her supply into a sword-wielding attacker, maybe she shouldn't be driving. At least, not with me. "I just want to know if there's a valid health reason why you would need to have barbital on you at all times."

"No. I just use it as a diversion when the time is right."

"Oh. Is Halloway going to be okay? Or are we going to have to get rid of his body, too?"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you," she flatly informed me. "And trust me. Halloway is going to be fine."

"But he could lapse into a coma. Or die. That would be bad," I reminded her.

"Trust me. Halloway isn't going to die. Or lapse into a coma." She seemed pretty sure of herself.

"But how do you know that--"

"You ask too many questions!" she shot back. "No more questions!"

"Sorry. It's just that I seem to have been thrown into the middle of a situation that I have no control over and I don't have any idea what's happening or what's going to happen!" I needed some barbital myself.

It seemed like forever, but we did eventually get back to Amanda's building. She invited me up to her apartment to call for a taxi and maybe a drink. I informed her that I had a car already on the lot, but a drink would be nice. She seemed to take it in stride. If I had been she, I would've wondered why I had withheld this information until after we'd discarded a rented limousine with included corpse. Maybe she didn't realize it.

We stepped into the elevator, and the rythmic chiming stopped after a few moments. We had reached Amanda's floor.

We stepped off of the elevator, and proceeded down the hall. As if a lightbulb had switched on over her head, Amanda spoke. "Why do you have a car here? How can that be when your car is in the shop?"

"They gave me a loaner. Get this -- it's a red El Dorado. Isn't that a hoot?" I laughed nervously in an attempt to disarm a possible situation. She must've been too tired to make any further connections. She looked exhausted. She let it go at that, and, producing her keys, opened the door to her apartment. We entered, and hadn't even closed the door when Amanda again looked madly around the room, just like she had the night before.

She had enough time to utter another word I won't mention here, and then Halloway came in from her bedroom, brandishing the same sword that he had had last night. He let out another deep yell and took a swing at us. Instinctively, I grabbed Amanda out of the way and yanked her out into the hall. He pursued us as we dashed down the fire stairs and out into the parking lot. He was far enough behind us that we could lose him for a moment amongst the cars. It was enough time for me to find the much-desired El Dorado. With no time to even buckle our seatbelts, Amanda and I ripped out of the parking space and recklessly lurched away.

I'm not a race car driver. Controlling a speeding vehicle is hard enough for me when I'm not being chased by a guy with an oversized letter opener. I made a hasty turn, and ran straight into Halloway. He rolled over the top of the hood and fell off on the driver's side, breaking the side view mirror in the process. I screeched to a halt to help him, but Amanda urged me to go.

"He's hurt, Amanda! Badly! I'm going to help him," I told her. I was driving for a change, dammit, and it was my decision to make.

"Go!" she ordered, and, to prove her point, she jabbed her housekey into my right thigh. It was, literally, a knee jerk reaction. My foot flew out as far as it would go, and, not coincidentally, the accelerator was directly beneath it. Our heads snapped back as the El Dorado peeled off. By the time I had regained control, we were already entering into traffic. I decided to head to my place.

When we had gotten there, the full fatigue of a night of running hit us. Poor Amanda was dead on her feet. "Perhaps I should've driven back from the House of Pancakes," I offered. Hindsight is 20/20.

"Yeah, maybe," she returned. We let it drop at that. I had her take my bed, while I slept on my couch. No one ever accused me of being ungentlemanly. At least, not this week. I curled up under an afghan for warmth and we both began to catch up on a much needed day's sleep. Silently, I dreaded what would be waiting for us when we awoke.

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