``And I so want the part,'' she said. ``The commercials have just been for money, there hasn't been any real incentive for me to do them, but in Underwater Western Eye I'd have a chance to act. I could show what I can do.''

As far as I was concerned, she had already and had dandily shown what she could do. But I promised Joyce I would mention her name, if at all, only as a last resort. Seeming much relieved, she smiled one of those worth waiting for smiles, and I smiled all the way into the bedroom. There I got my Colt Special and shoulder harness, slipped my coat on, and went back into the front room.

Joyce squirmed a little on the divan. ``I'm starting to itch,'' she said.

``Itch?''

``Yes, I'm still all covered with that soap. I was loaded with suds when I ran away, and I haven't had a chance to wash it off. Mmmm, it sure itches.''

``You might as well wait here while I'm gone, so you can use my shower if you'd like.''

``Oh, I'd love to.'' I showed her the shower and tub, and she said, smiling, ``If you really don't mind, I think I'll get clean in the shower, then soak for a few minutes in your tub. That always relaxes me. Doesn't it you?''

``Only when I do it.'' I shook my head. One of my virtues or vices is a sort of three-dimensional imagination complete with sound effects and glorious living color. ``Soak as long as you want, Joyce. It'll probably be at least an hour or two before I can check back with you. So you'll have everything all to yourself, doggone.''