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waiting for us with a tire iron,” said Dud.
    “Stop making me paranoid. Come on, let’s investigate. That’s what we’re here for, right? There’s nothing to be scared of. I have a flashlight with me that costs four hundred dollars. I bet you anything he headed downstream. That’s what people do. Go with the flow.” Three paused, as if stunned. “Wow. I just realized that’s where that expression comes from. I am so stoned!”
    “I need you to get out of the car, please. It’s going to take me about forty minutes to get your window rolled up. In fact, why don’t you go without me? You probably don’t want to waste any time, and you have your special flashlight…”
    “Leave the window down and let’s go. You’re my goon. This is your time to shine, brother, when fucking danger strikes.”
    “I just don’t feel right leaving the window down.”
    “Do you see where we are? Who do you think’s going to want in to your shitty car anyway? Count Fucking Dracula?”
    “A snapping turtle, a bat, a rabid raccoon or possum, a mosquito carrying the West Nile virus…Look at all the bugs that are already in here.”
    “How the fuck is a fucking turtle going to climb in through the window? It’s completely implausible. Use your fucking noodle, man.”
    “What about the rusted-out holes in the floorboards?” said Dud.
    “Well, then, that has nothing to do with the windows, does it, little man? Let’s roll.”
5
    They came upon the Frenchman in a clearing defined by a circle of huge, scabby old oaks. He was alone, dressed in something like a beekeeper’s outfit. He seemed startled to see them, but only momentarily. He sprinted toward them, waving his hands.
    “The light! The light!”
    When he reached them, he tried to force the flashlight from Three’s hand. Three struggled. The Frenchman desisted.
    “I am sorry,” he said. “Must turn off. We use this for light?”
    He brought out an iPod, its glowing screen paused on “I Think I Love You,” by the Partridge Family.
    “I am sorry,” said the Frenchman. “You har the honers?”
    Three looked at Dud, then back at the Frenchman. “Yes,” he said, “we’re the honers.”
    “I do not think you will be…’ear, you know? I think I can come, it is late, I will bother nobody? I make a study of the birds, you know? Birds?”
    “I know birds,” said Three.
    “I am ’unting the howl, yes? Not to ’unt bang-bang. To study. Take picture. You see ’ow I am dress? The bird see me, he think…‘Ah! A tree!’”
    The Frenchman seemed to wait for a response from Dud and Three, who were not forthcoming.
    “It is good you ’ave appear. You can be my hinformant. ’Ave you ’ear of a howl that glow? A phosphorescent howl?”
    “A phosphorescent howl,” said Three. “This guy’s nuttier than you,” he said to Dud.
    The Frenchman concentrated on his pronunciation. “Owell,” he said.
    “Oh! Owl. They don’t glow, pal. Sorry to bust your fucking bubble.”
    “Yes! They do not glow. But some howl do. They ’ave been sightings, you know? People look,” (here the Frenchman made binoculars of his hands to illustrate) “and see the phosphorescent howl.” He applauded and jumped up and down, pretending to be a person who had just sighted a phosphorescent owl. “But it is, er, undocument? Could be, for me, an himportant discovery. I am thinking it is something the howls eat, per’ap a glowworm or firefly, or possibly a kind of mushroom. Or could be a moss that get catched in their feather? Or phosphorescent dung of rare beetle. These are my hypothezee.”
    “Well, I take it you’re not banging somebody out here,” said Three. “Not in that outfit. Where’s the zipper?”
    “I do not bang the howl, bang-bang! No, very careful. Very science.”
    “Right. Well, knock yourself out, Monsieur Valentin.”
    “Ow you know my name?”
    “A little howl told me,” said Three.
6
    “God, I’m the shittiest detective in the world. My cover is