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some: Skip Amalfi's been having fun whipping up the crowd. And I wouldn't be surprised if Tom Creedman starts to take a more active role. I was up at his place after visiting Ben, and he-'

'You didn't tell him anything, I hope.' His eyes were bright with alarm.

'No,' I said, trying to hold on to my patience. 'He asked, but I played dumb.'

'Asked about what?'

'If Ben had told me anything significant; what you and I were working on. He also clearly wanted to convince me to leave, which makes sense if he's still working for Stasher-Layman and they want to control Aruk. Have you seen the interior of his house?'

He shook his head.

'Rooms full of brand-new furniture, computer equipment, expensive appliances.'

'Yes, I remember he received a large shipment shortly after he arrived. Right after I asked him to leave here.'

'Meaning he'd planned all along to settle down in his own place, came up here to snoop. What was he looking for, Bill?'

'I told you I don't know.'

'Not a clue?'

'None.' Taking hold of the journal, he rolled it again and let it unfurl.

'Jo Picker has something to do with Stasher-Layman, too.'

That lifted him off the chair. 'What- how do you know?'

'Robin saw their literature in her room. She's another one from Washington and she was here alone the night the roaches ended up in our room.'

'I- we've already established that was my fault. Leaving the cage open.'

'Do you actually remember leaving it open?'

That absent look came into his eyes. 'No, but… I… you really believe she could be working for them, too?'

'I think it's likely, and I'm bringing it up to warn you. Because you'll be dealing with her after I'm gone. Which is what I came to tell you: Robin and I are leaving on the next boat.'

He took hold of the chair. It slid forward and he lost his footing. I shot up and got hold of him just before he tumbled.

'Clumsy oaf,' he said, jerking away and pulling at his shirt as if trying to rip it off. 'Clumsy goddamned old fool.'

It was the first time I'd heard him swear. I managed to sit him back down.

'Pardon my language- the next boat is when, a week?'

'Five days.'

'Ah… well,' he said in a clogged voice, 'you must do what you feel is best. There's a time for everything.'

'Time is important to you,' I said.

He stared at me.

'Ben told me that. It made me think of your last note. The Auden poem- time's deceit. Your question about Einstein. What exactly were you getting at?'

He looked up at the ceiling. 'What do you think it meant?'

'To take time seriously but to understand that it's relative? What kind of deceit were you referring to?'

More of the absent look. Then: 'Einstein… in his own way, he was a magician, wouldn't you say? Turning the universe on its end, as if reality was one big illusion. Forcing us all to look at reality in a new way.'

'Unencumbered by time.'

'Unencumbered by prior assumptions.'

He lowered his gaze and met mine.

'And you want me to do that, Bill?'

'What I want really doesn't matter, does it, son?'

'A new way,' I said. 'Being skeptical about reality?'

'Reality is… to a good extent what we want it to be.'

He got up, inhaled, stretched and cracked more joints.

'The great thinkers,' I said.

'Always something to learn from them,' he answered, as if we were reciting responsively.

'I still don't understand the note, Bill.'

He came up to me, moving into my personal space the way he had with Dennis. A big, clumsy, intrusive bird. I felt as if I was about to be pecked and had to control myself from retreating.

'The note,' he said. 'Actually, you did very well with the note, son. Bon voyage.'

31

The rain came just before Milo called.

Robin and I were reading in bed when I felt the air turn suddenly heavy and saw the sky crack.

The windows were open and a burnt smell drifted through the screen. For one knife-stab moment, I thought of fire, but as I looked out, the water began dropping.

Panes of plate glass, filming the view. The burnt smell turned sweet- gardenias and old roses and cloves. Spike began barking and circling and the room got dimmer and warmer. I shut the windows, blocking out some but not all of the sound.

Robin got up and stared through a now filmy pane.

The phone rang.

'How's everything?' said Milo.

'Bad and getting worse.' I told him about my experiences in the village. 'But we're booked for home.'

'Smart move. You can always stop over in Hawaii for a real vacation.'

'Maybe,' I said, but I knew we'd be jetting back to L.A. as quickly as possible.

'Robin there? Got some house stuff to tell her.'

I handed over the phone and Robin listened. Her smile told me things were going well.

When I got back on, he said, 'Now your stuff, though now that you're leaving, who cares?'

'Tell me anyway.'

'First of all, both Maryland cannibals are still locked up. The asshole who only cut the victim is eligible for parole but has been refused. The asshole who cut and dined isn't going anywhere. Thank God it wasn't an L.A. jury, right? L.A. jury couldn't convict Adolf Hitler. What's that sound? Static on your end?'

'Rain,' I said. 'Think of a shower on high and triple it.'

'Typhoon?'

'No, just rain. Supposedly they don't get typhoons here.'

'Supposedly they didn't get crime, either.'

I moved closer to the window. Only the tops of the trees were visible through the downpour. Above the rain clouds, the sky was milk-white and peaceful.

'Nope, no wind. Just lots of water. I hope it lets up in time for the boats to come get us.'

'Daylight come and you wanna go home, huh? Well, when you hear the rest, you'll wish it were sooner. Guess who covered the cannibal case for a local rag?'

'Creedman.'

'Didn't even have to look for him, his name was right there on the articles. Then someone else took over mid- case and that made me a little curious, so I dug deeper. No one at the paper remembers Creedman specifically, but I found out there'd been some hassle with the local police around the same time he got pulled off the story: officers leaking information to his paper and others for money. A bunch of cops got fired.'

'Did reporters get fired, too?'

'Couldn't find that out, but it's a good bet. Anyway, Creedman's next gig of record was at a D.C. cable station, some kind of business show, but he only lasted three months before getting hired by Stasher-Layman Construction's