 It was strictly hit and run. I piled Langley into the manzanita and didn't even wait to see him bounce. Instead, I took off through a gully that was a shortcut to my car, because I knew that Jernigan's watchdog had nothing to offer compared with the hot-headed Debbie Jansen, who at the moment, no doubt, was well on her way to the Beverly Crest Hotel, and a blackmail rendezvous that was a cinch to wind up in the final destruction of the letter. That was my theory. But I dropped it like a hot rock just as I crossed the path to the sulfur pool...