By then it was quite dark: My cover was as good as it gets, so I walked away from the house, down the beach to the inlet, through the dunes, and up to the road where the car was parked.
A minute later I pulled into Archer’s street and parked in front of the house. It didn’t matter much where I parked: there were other cars along the road and my rental slipped in nicely among them. Archer would have no reason to know that I was within six hundred miles of here.
Nothing was happening on this side of the house. Erin had confined herself to that beachfront room and I played it boringly safe for now.
An hour passed. I watched the clock, imagining Koko tearing her hair.
Of all the jobs I had done as a cop I had always hated surveillance. It’s bad enough when you have a partner to talk to; alone, it’s a killer. But I waited, slumped in my seat, only my eyes moving from the road to the house and back again.
He finally came at ten-thirty. I saw his lights far down the road and I got down deep in my seat. Gradually his lights washed over my car and went away as he turned into his drive. I eased up and looked over the edge of the window. He had pulled under the house and his taillights shone out at the road. I heard the door slam and saw his shadow moving around to the beachfront steps.
When he had gone into the house I got out of my car and walked up the drive. I stopped at his car and opened one of the doors, just enough for the momentary flash of light to confirm the ‘83 Pontiac, two-tone blue. The literary lion had come home to his den. Now came the tricky part: getting close enough to learn something useful without getting caught.
Again I went up the stairs and across the porch. I stood flattened against the wall, two feet from the open window, but so far nothing was going on: no sounds, not even a hint of talk from some other room.
Suddenly the door opened and Erin stepped out. I held my breath. If she moved away from the house or went even partway to the edge of the porch, she couldn’t miss seeing me when she turned around. But a sound drew her back into the room and I heard Archer say, “These goddamn airlines, it’s getting so I hate to fly. How was your flight?”
“It was okay. It got me here.”
“I guess I’m lucky mine was only two hours late. Did you have any trouble finding the key?”
“Right where you said.”
I heard him move again, coming closer to the window: then the clink of a bottle on glass. “How about a drink?”
“Only if it’s a very short one, please.”
“Name your poison.”
“Gin and tonic.”
I heard the sound of pouring and ice. Someone sat down, probably Archer, in the easy chair just to the left of the window. “Come on, Erin,” he said. “Relax.”
I pictured them looking at each other over their drinks, fencing with their eyes.
“Cheers,” Archer said.
A moment passed.
“Do you want to get down to cases now?” Erin said.
It had begun pleasantly enough but suddenly the mood got darker. Archer said, “
“What’s wrong with you?” he said. “You fly all the way from Denver and now you act like you can’t wait to get out of here. Do I really bother you that much?”
It took her a moment to answer that. “I wouldn’t drive you around if you did, would I?”
“As a matter of fact I’ve been wondering about that. The night of Lee’s party, for example, how it came to be you who picked me up.”
“You found that unusual?”
“Considering how we parted after my book tour a few years ago.”
She said nothing.
“I should apologize for my lack of manners back then,” he said.
“There’s no need for that.”
“What if I feel a need?”
