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great granite blocks below us.
    Susan said, “None of this changes what you were hired to do, of course.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œDo what you were hired to do, collect your pay, and move on.”
    â€œYep.”
    The movement of the immediate water sort of draggedme outward toward a bigger and bigger seascape until I felt the near eternal presence of the ocean far past the horizon.
    â€œBut you won’t,” Susan said.
    â€œI won’t?”
    â€œNope.”
    We had a couple of bottles of Riesling. I poured us some wine.
    â€œA jug of wine, some plastic cups, and thou,” I said.
    â€œYou will have to know if Mr. Rowley hired someone to follow Mrs. Rowley and if so, why.”
    â€œI will?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy is that?” I said.
    â€œBecause of how you are. When you pick something up, you can’t put it down until you know it entirely,” Susan said. “Your imagination simply won’t let go of it, and, whether you want to or not, you’ll be turning it every which way to see what it’s made of.”
    â€œDo you have a diagnosis?”
    â€œIt’s what in my profession we call characterological.”
    â€œWhich means you haven’t an explanation.”
    â€œBasically yes,” Susan said. “It’s simply how you are.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBecause you know me so well?”
    She smiled. “Yes.”
    â€œAnd . . . ?” I said.
    She smiled wider.
    â€œBecause that’s how I am too.”
    â€œMakes you good at what you do,” I said.
    â€œMakes both of us good,” Susan said. “We are hounds for the truth.”
    â€œWoof,” I said.
    We sat with our shoulders touching and our backs to the land, and ate our lunch, and drank our wine, and felt the pull of the ocean’s implacable kinesis.
    â€œShould we walk back to the White Barn and have a nap?” I said. “And afterwards a swim in the pool, and cocktails, and dinner?”
    â€œIs ‘nap’ a euphemism for something more active?” Susan said.
    â€œThe two are not mutually exclusive,” I said.
    â€œNo,” Susan. “But it’s important that they don’t coincide.”
    Which they didn’t.

7
    â€œH ere’s the deal,” I said to Elmer. “You stay with Ellen Eisen, and let me know if she meets my guy, and I’ll see what I can find out about who’s watching Mrs. Rowley.”
    â€œWhadda you care who’s watching Mrs. Rowley?”
    â€œIt’s characterological,” I said.
    â€œSure it is,” Elmer said. “I’ll buy in if I get something out of it.”
    â€œI’ll owe you,” I said.
    â€œIf finding out gets you any money,” Elmer said, “half of it’s mine.”
    â€œYou bet,” I said.
    â€œCan I trust you,” Elmer said.
    â€œYou bet,” I said.
    He looked at me for a time without saying anything. His little dark eyes were slightly oval, as if, maybe, along way back, one of the O’Neills had been Asian. Finally he nodded to himself slowly.
    â€œYeah,” he said. “Your word is good.”
    â€œHow do you know that?” I said.
    â€œI know,” Elmer said. “I’ll keep in touch.”
    He got up and went toward the door. He walked with a little swagger. He would have walked with a big swagger had he been larger. Pearl the Wonder Dog II stood up on the office sofa and stared at Elmer as he walked past. She didn’t bristle, but she didn’t wag her tail either.
    â€œFucking dog don’t like me,” he said.
    â€œShe’s just cautious,” I said. “She hasn’t been with us very long.”
    â€œHe some kinda Doberman?”
    â€œShe’s a German shorthaired pointer,” I said.
    â€œSame thing,” Elmer said.
    I walked over and sat on the couch beside Pearl, and she stretched up her neck to give me a