'How is he at lurking?'
'Lurking? Oh, to get the photo. I'd say he's a devious cuss. Serve him in good stead in his chosen profession. Should I call him?' I said he should. 'And when are we going to shoot some deer, will you tell me that?'
'Probably never.'
'Never make a hunter out of you, will we? You know what? Why don't you come out here after the season's over and we'll just take a walk in the woods, which is the best part of hunting anyway. No guns to carry, and no risk of being mistaken for a twelve-point buck by somebody who had his breakfast out of a flask. Of course you don't get to bring home any venison that way.'
'Which spares you from having to pretend to enjoy it.'
'Not your favorite meal, eh? Nor mine either, truth be known, but there's something about going out and getting it that satisfies a man.'
I called him from Elaine's shop to tell him the photos had arrived and his nephew had done a good job.
'I'm glad to hear that,' he said, 'but I'm not surprised. He always took good pictures, even as a little kid.
I spoke to him just last night, and I'll tell you what pleases me is how much fun he got out of doing the work. We could make a good police officer out of that boy.'
'I bet your sister would love to hear that.'
'Her and my brother-in-law both, and I guess I see their point. No question but that lawyers get richer than cops. Who ever said the world's a fair place?'
'I don't know,' I said, 'but I swear it wasn't me.'
* * *
I spent a few hours minding the shop, and it's a good thing I don't have to do that too often.
Someone—I think it was Pascal—wrote something to the effect that all of man's problems stem from his inability to sit alone in a room.
I'm generally pretty good at sitting alone in a room, with or without the TV
on, but that day I found it a trial. For one thing, I wanted to be out on the streets doing something. For another, people kept interrupting me, and to no purpose. They would call up, ask for Elaine, want to know when she would be coming back, and ring off without leaving a name.
Or they would come to the door, stick their heads in, register a certain amount of dismay at seeing me instead of the lady of the house, and go somewhere else.
A couple of people did come in and browse, but I didn't have to talk price with them, or make out charge card slips, because none of them tried to buy anything. One inquired about the price of several paintings—all the prices were clearly marked—and said that she would be back. That means about as much as saying 'I'll call you' to a woman after the two of you have seen a movie together. 'People who keep shops,' Elaine had told me, 'are more realistic than girls on dates. We know you won't be back.'
I had time to read the papers. Marty McGraw's column did indeed include Will's latest letter. Without naming names, the anonymous author made it clear that the three men on his list were just a starting point.
Many more of us were candidates for his next list, unless we saw the light and mended our ways. The letter struck me as tired and unconvincing. I had the feeling Will #2 didn't even believe it himself.
TJ breezed in somewhere around the middle of the afternoon. He was wearing baggy jeans, with a down vest in hunter orange over his camo jacket. He was dressed for success, if your line of work happens to be street crime.
'Got to change,' he said, slipping past me to the back room. He came back wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. 'Don't want to scare the customers off,' he said, 'but if I went downtown like this, I'da scared the dude off.'
'You found him?'
He nodded. 'Says it's the man he saw.'
'How sure is he?'
'Sure enough to swear to it, 'cept he ain't about to swear to nothin'.
Told him he wouldn't have to. That
straight?'
'Probably. Can you take over now until Elaine gets back?'
'No problem. Where you goin', Owen?'
'Can't you guess?'
'I don't guess,' he said. 'I detect. Where I detect you's goin' is Cleveland.'
I told him he was a good detective.
* * *
I'd already called from the shop to book the flight, and I walked over to Phyllis Bingham's office to pick up the ticket, then back to the apartment to pack a bag with a clean shirt and a change of socks and underwear. I didn't know how long this was going to take, but I figured to be away overnight no matter what.
Phyllis had me flying Continental out of Newark. I beat the rush hour traffic to the airport, and by the time we were on the ground in Cleveland most of the commuters were sitting down to dinner. There was a small group of people with hand-lettered cardboard signs waiting at the security gate, and one of the signs had my name on it. The kid holding it was tall and rangy, with close-cropped reddish-blond hair and a narrow face.
