“Do you think he bears me any ill will?”

“Why, no sir, I don’t. I think… well, he’s just the sort of person who’s… curious, I guess. He’s spent most of his working life asking a lot of questions, and now, it just comes naturally to him.”

“Enda, you understand that I can’t have him asking questions around here.”

McCauliffe nodded. “I certainly see why that would make you uncomfortable, sir, especially after what you’ve told me, and after this.” He held up the document Sutherland had just signed. “But I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Howell is not here to write about us. He’s just curious, that’s all.”

Sutherland shook his head. “I just don’t want the whole thing opened up again. It’s been twenty-five years.”

McCauliffe decided that since Sutherland was now his valued client, he should tell him everything he knew. “Mr. Sutherland, I don’t think you should assign too much weight to this, but not long after John Howell arrived here he had some out of town people out to the cabin and they… well, they had a seance.”

Sutherland winced. “Oh… my… God,” he said, quietly. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Tell me about it.”

Bo Scully was admitted to the house by Alfred, and was taken straight to the study; Eric Sutherland was waiting for him.

“Morning, Eric,” Bo said, taking care that he sounded relaxed and confident. He was never either relaxed or confident in Sutherland’s presence.

Sutherland offered no greeting. “Tell me about the credit card,” he said.

He looked angry, Bo thought. He had probably been working up to it for days. “I called Neiman-Marcus in Atlanta immediately. They referred me to the credit manager in Dallas – that’s the main store-and he refused to tell me anything without a written request.”

“So?”

“So I wrote to him, asking for a copy of the credit application.”

“And?”

“And I’m expecting a reply any day, now.” Bo leaned forward in his chair. “Eric, I think this whole business with the credit card is easily explained. Somebody at the party…”

“Dammit, I’ve told you there was nobody named MacDonald at the party!”

“Look, this guy MacDonald could be a friend or relative of somebody who was there. There are all sorts of possible explanations. Have you had any workmen around the place lately?”

“No, not a one, except the gardener, and believe me, he doesn’t have a charge account at Neiman-Marcus. I don’t pay him enough for that.”

“Eric, when we hear from Neiman’s, I promise you it’s going to be the most logical, ordinary thing. Besides, you’re not missing anything from the office, are you?”

“What may be missing from the office is not an object that somebody has walked away with. What may be missing is information that somebody has now that he didn’t have before. Knowledge is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands, and I think you know I mean Howell. I saw him looking in there, and the dog just went berserk that night.”

“I talked with Alfred about that, Eric. He says the dog gets after rabbits down there in the woods. It’s happened before.”

“What about the boat?”

“Alfred says it was just adrift. That’s happened before, too.”

“We’re going to have to get rid of Mr. John Howell, Bo, that’s all there is to it.”

Bo leaned back in his chair. “Well, now, I had a little talk with Howell a couple of days ago, and I think he’s off your back.”

Sutherland looked at him in surprise. “What did you say to him?”

“Well, he’d heard the O’Coineen rumors, all right, and I gave him the whole story.”

“Did he believe you?”

“I told him about the letter from Joyce. I think that clinched it. You see, Eric, even if he did get into your office, all he wanted was a look at the maps. What he knows now makes the maps unnecessary, irrelevant. He understands that.” Bo hoped the hell Howell did understand that. “He didn’t come up here about that, Eric. He came to write his book, just like he said. He heard the O’Coineen story after he was already up here, and I guess he was a little bored, and it got him all excited.”

“Damn right he got excited,” Sutherland said. “Did you know he and some people had a goddamned seance up there? Enda McCauliffe told me.”

Bo’s blood ran cold. He didn’t show it. “So what? You don’t believe all that crap that halfwit Benny Pope spreads around, do you? His brain has been pickled for years.”

“Howell’s been to see Lorna Kelly, too.”

Bo felt as if he’d swallowed a block of ice. “For what?”

“McCauliffe says Howell slipped a disc, or something.”

“Did she fix it?”

“Apparently. He certainly seemed agile enough at the party.”

“Well, then…”

Sutherland wiped a hand across his brow. “I wish she’d die, damn her. I’d like to spend my last years in peace, without her around.”

Bo stood and placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Eric, it’s my job to see that you have the peace you deserve. You’re making much more out of all this than is called for, really you are. I’m going to take care of everything. Just trust me.”

Sutherland stood and took Bo’s hand in both of his. “Bo, I’ve always trusted you, and you’ve never let me down. Help me enjoy my last years, and I promise you, when I’m gone, you’ll be remembered.”

“Thank you, Eric,” Bo said, and took his leave.

He drove back into town, afraid to the very bottom of him. Too much new was happening – the business with Scotty, this seance, Howell’s acquaintance with Mama Kelly. Bo felt as though control of things was slipping through his fingers, that there were more holes in the dike than he could plug. He didn’t trust Sutherland, either. He’d heard that promise before, and he’d believe it when the old man was in the ground and the will was being read.

In the meantime, he was making his own provisions, just in case.

As soon as Bo had left the office, Scotty had begun to fidget. She had thought she’d be nervous with him, after the events of yesterday, but he’d been much the same as usual, though she thought she’d caught a trace of sadness about him. But now, she wanted Sally out, and Sally was taking her time about going to lunch.

“Listen, Scotty, why don’t you go first?” Sally said. “I’m not real hungry yet.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m going to have lunch today, Sally. I’ve still got a couple of pounds to go.”

“Listen, you keep up that fasting stuff, and we’ll be scraping you off the floor again. I think you scared Bo half to death.”

“No, no, I had a big breakfast this morning. You go ahead and eat.”

Sally took what seemed like half an hour to check her makeup and brush off her dress, then finally left the office. Scotty waited until Mike was on the radio, then picked up some papers and went to the copying machine. She placed them on top of the machine and pressed the On button. When Mike was finishing his radio call, she turned her back to him and flipped the papers behind the machine.

“Oh, dammit,” she shouted.

Mike turned. “What’s the matter, Scotty?”

“Oh, I’ve dropped some papers behind the copying machine, and you know what the thing weighs. Give me a hand, will you, Mike?”

“Sure I will.” He came over and helped her wrestle it away from the wall.

“Just a couple of more inches, and I’ll be able to get behind it,” Scotty said. The gap opened; she wedged herself around the machine and recovered both the papers she had deliberately dropped and the lost ledger sheet of Bo’s. She shuffled them together to conceal the green paper among the others. “Got ‘em. Thanks, Mike.” Together, they moved the heavy machine back into place.

“You shouldn’t be doing that sort of shoving, Scotty,” Mike said. “You might not be recovered yet.”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks. I am a little hungry, though. And I was going to skip lunch.”

“Well, I don’t think you should do that.”