"What is it?" I asked.

"The Stunner," Antony said.

"You're a stunner," said Sch.e.l.l. "Go get some rest. I'm glad you're in one piece." Antony smiled and bowed to us. As he moved toward the door, his bulk caused a disturbance in the atmosphere that rippled throughout the room, its current made evident by the motion of the insects. Once the door was closed, I got up from my seat and went to the couch where Antony had been sitting and lay down, propping my head on the end pillow next to a perching, closed pipevine. I exhaled, and the specimen beat its wings and was gone.

"Will we disturb you if we sit for a few more minutes?" asked Morgan. "I'm still too wide awake to turn in."

"No," I said. "I'm almost asleep." I closed my eyes. There was silence for a little while, and then she and Sch.e.l.l continued speaking in whispers about the events of the night.

I dozed off for a little while, no more than a few minutes it seemed. They were still talking, but in even more hushed tones now. When I opened my eyes a sliver, wanting to see but not wanting to interrupt them, I noticed that someone had turned off the lights. Morgan Shaw, glowing like a full moon in the autumn sky, lifted a winegla.s.s from off the table, and I realized that at some point when I was out she'd switched over from tea. I lay there with my eyes closed, breathing as shallowly as possible so I wouldn't give myself away.

"You have a very nice voice," Sch.e.l.l said, "but I never expected a song at quite that moment."

"You mean, in the car?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I sing to calm myself."

"I liked both your voice and that song," said Sch.e.l.l.

"'Wrap your troubles in dreams,'" she said. "It's a nice idea, but somehow they have a way of unwrapping themselves and escaping."

"I've noticed," said Sch.e.l.l.

"So I have my songs, and you, Thomas Sch.e.l.l, have b.u.t.terflies. I'd never have suspected it. Why?"

"It's a hobby," he said. "Keeps me off the street at night."

"Collecting stamps is a hobby," she said. "This is something much more."

"I'm fascinated by a good trick when I see it," he said "Sleight of hand with a deck, a magician's illusion, a con's scheme. The b.u.t.terfly has the best trick in the world. They wrap their naked selves in a blanket, taking nothing with them, you can check if you'd like. They work alone and never leave that coc.o.o.n while they perform their magic. Time pa.s.ses and as it does they transform themselves with only what they have, which as I've said is nothing but themselves. And when they break out, they have become something entirely different. A flying enchantment."

"And what have you learned from them?" she asked.

"Simplicity and subtlety make for the best con. A distraction should lead the mark's attention upward, either toward the sky or to some better vision of himself. Color signals danger. Try to appear to have as many eyes as possible."

"Very good," she said.

"Almost," said Sch.e.l.l. "There's one thing I haven't gotten yet, though, and it keeps me studying them. It's the one thing that's the heart of their art, and it still escapes me."

"What's that?" asked Morgan.

"Change," he said. "They change, but I can never move beyond myself."

"That's the b.i.t.c.h," she said. "It'll make you want to sing to yourself." I dozed again, and when I next woke, it was still dark, and they had left the Bugatorium. As quietly as possible, I got off the couch and moved across the room to the door. Down the hall I went on my toes, being careful not to bang into anything and give myself away. When I reached the kitchen, the light was still on, and I prayed Antony wasn't up, as he was sometimes, called from sleep by the need for a smoke. Luckily his seat was empty. Finally, I reached the door to my room, opened it slowly, and when there was just enough room, slipped into the darkness, closing it behind me.

"Who's there?" Isabel whispered.

"It's me," I said.

"I knew you would come back," she said.

"Haven't you slept at all?"

"A little, but the dreams keep waking me." I could make out her silhouette sitting up in the bed. She threw back the edge of the covers and patted the spot next to her, as she had on the boulder when we met by the sound. I climbed into bed, and she put the cover up over my shoulder. Then we settled back, our arms around each other. I felt her pressing against me. My hand moved down her side to rest upon her hip. We lay like that for a long time, and though I meant to kiss her, instead I fell into a deep sleep.

THE BULLET'S IN THE CHAMBER.

The next morning I was the last in the house to rise. Apparently, Isabel had gotten up early, dressed, and gone to the kitchen to make eggs, bacon, and coffee for everyone. When I finally pulled myself together and went out to join the others, they were all nearly done eating. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down. The first two things I noticed were Isabel's smile and Sch.e.l.l's stern countenance. He gave me an icy stare but said nothing. It was clear to me that he had discovered I had not spent the entire night on the couch in the Bugatorium and was not happy about it. I knew, though, that his sense of decorum would prevent him from making a scene over it. There would most definitely be a lecture coming later on. At first, I was embarra.s.sed by his look and wouldn't make eye contact with him. This only lasted for a short time and was circ.u.mvented by my seeing Isabel talking and laughing with the others. I knew I was in love, and I wasn't going to deny it. Sch.e.l.l will have to accept it, I thought to myself. After that, I became defiant, and when he looked at me, I stared back and smiled.

Antony had, as usual, risen early and gone to get the newspaper. There, just as we found the news about the discovery of Charlotte Barnes, we found the headlines announcing the shocking murders of Parks and his staff.

"I guess we're on the low profile here for even longer now," said Antony. "It's gonna get cozy."

"You're right. We have to continue to lie low for a while. Diego and I are going out this evening," said Sch.e.l.l. "It's probably not a good idea, but I need more information."

"Where?" asked Antony.

"We're going to see the coroner," said Sch.e.l.l.

"You going G-man?" asked Antony.

Sch.e.l.l nodded.

"What about me?"

"I want you to stay here and rest up," said Sch.e.l.l. "Practice the Stunner." To my surprise, Antony agreed to stay put. He still must have been hurting from the previous night.

"How'd you find out about the coroner?" asked the big man.

"I called Katie and got an address," said Sch.e.l.l.

"I'm surprised she didn't charge you for it."

"Who says she didn't?" asked Sch.e.l.l.

"Wait a second," said Morgan, "I need clothes. I'm sure this young lady needs a few things also. I know you can't stop at the Parks place for her things, but I have plenty of clothes in those boxes back at my cabin. How about stopping there tonight and picking some of them up for us, seeing as we'll be here for a week or more?"

Sch.e.l.l thought for a moment, considering her request, and then shook his head. "I don't want to take the chance. I'll risk shaking down the coroner for some information, but I don't want to run into whoever has been casing your place. One of us will have to go shopping for you," said Sch.e.l.l. That ended the conversation, and soon after we left the table. The issue of stopping or not at the cabin was far from decided, though, as I observed Morgan Shaw go to work on Sch.e.l.l. Isabel and I were sitting in the living room, but we could hear them talking in the kitchen as they washed and dried the dishes together.

"I see some woods out there, Thomas. I think you should take me out for a walk and show me your property."

"I never go out there," said Sch.e.l.l.

"Never? It's a beautiful day. I'd like to see your place. We wouldn't be seen from the road. This house seems very secluded."

"I was going to do some work with the b.u.t.terflies," said Sch.e.l.l.

"Forget the b.u.t.terflies for a while," she said. "I'm your guest. I'll go crazy if I have to stay indoors the entire time I'm here."

There was no response from Sch.e.l.l.

"Is there a view of the sound through those woods?" she asked.

"I think so," he said. "I've never been back there. Diego could tell you."

"Diego's busy," she said. "I'd like you to take me."

I could picture Sch.e.l.l in the kitchen, staring into the dishwater. He said nothing we could hear, but a few moments later, Morgan started humming a tune, which turned into a song. The next thing I knew, the water stopped running and the back door opened and closed. I got up and went to the kitchen window and watched as Sch.e.l.l and Morgan Shaw headed out across the gra.s.s toward the path that led through the trees.

While I stood there, Antony came through the kitchen and stopped to glance out the window to see what I was looking at.

"Is that the boss?" he asked. "Taking a walk in the woods?"

"So to speak," I said.

"Between the two of them," he said, "it's hard to figure who's the mark and who's the con."

"She's got him," I said.

"Or is he letting her think she's getting him?" said Antony.

"Or is she letting him think that he's letting her think she's getting him?" I said.

"Romance," said Antony. "A con so crazy that by the time the bullet's in the chamber, you don't know if you've taken someone or you've been taken."

"Romance?" I said. "That's a little premature."

"Call it whatever the f.u.c.k you want," he said.

When we turned around from the window, Isabel was standing, leaning against the entranceway to the kitchen with her arms folded. I wondered how long she'd been listening to us. Antony went to the table and grabbed his newspaper. "I'm gonna check the morning line," he said. He held the paper up as he left the kitchen, saying, "Adios," and padded off down the hall, past the office, toward his room. As soon as Antony was gone, I sat with Isabel at the kitchen table and explained to her the predicament she was in as it had been explained to me by Sch.e.l.l. She already had a fairly good grasp of the situation and knew she was in a tight spot. I told her that Sch.e.l.l thought she should head for Mexico and try to find her father.

"Are you sure he just doesn't want me to be as far away from you as possible?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"Did you see his face when you came out of the room?"

"Yeah," I said. "I never thought of that. He does have big plans for me. He wants me to go to college."

"He doesn't want you getting mixed up with an illegal," she said and gave me a sarcastic smile.

"I don't think Sch.e.l.l has anything against you," I said. "I just think he's protected me for so long, he's having a hard time accepting that I've grown up."

"Creo que el tiene dificultad con que te vuelvas mejicano otra vez," she said.

"That I'll admit," I said.

"And what do you think I should do?" she asked.

"Stay with me," I said.

"No es possible, en realidad," she said. "And if I did, we'd have to leave Long Island and find somewhere else to live."

"True," I said.

"I don't know," she told me. I could see the sadness creeping into her expression.

"Sch.e.l.l said you could stay here for as long as you liked. We don't have to decide right now. Maybe if we think about it for a few days, we can come up with a solution."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

"Hey," I said, changing the subject. "Come, I'll show you something incredible." We both stood, and I took her by the hand. I led the way down the hallway to the Bugatorium. When we came to the door, I told her to close her eyes, and she did.

Once she was in the middle of the room, I told her to open them. "Behold, the Bugatorium," I said. The b.u.t.terflies seemed to perform on cue. She spun around to take in the entire sight, giggling nervously.

"This is Mr. Sch.e.l.l's?" she asked.

I nodded. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," she said and took a seat at one end of the couch, her gaze darting about. I sat down at the opposite end. "He says he studies b.u.t.terflies because they are masters of deception, but I think there's more to it than that."

She nodded, and I wished I'd owned a camera so I could have captured the look of enchantment on her face. We spent the next few hours telling each other our childhood memories. She'd grown up in a town in Zacatecas, an old colonial town in the highlands, where her father had labored in the silver mines. Her mother's family was Huesteca, originally from northern Veracruz, and they spoke a form of ancient Mayan as well as Spanish. We recalled relatives and games, mole poblano and chilaquiles, and I told her about the men in the Plaza Santa Domingo who composed love letters and wills for those who could not write. The tide of memories increased the longer we talked.

When finally it was time to leave the Bugatorium, I asked her again what she thought of it.

"Una carcelita muy preciosa," she said.

I was disappointed that she didn't love it, but at the same time her words planted a seed in my thoughts, and I wondered if I would ever see that room again in the way I did before she'd spoken them.

TRUTH IS BEAUTY.

By the time Sch.e.l.l was finished with the makeup kit, we each looked ten years older. He now sported a trim goatee and fuller eyebrows. My complexion was nearly white, and I sported a bushy black mustache and round-frame gla.s.ses. He told me that government agents don't usually have facial hair, but that we needed to take the chance in order to thoroughly confuse the coroner's memory. His belief was that the most important aspect of any costume was the shoes, and he had pairs and pairs of them he'd picked up on the cheap at the Salvation Army to add the right touch to his false incarnations.

"A G-man's a cop with greater jurisdiction," he said, "but still a cop." With this in mind, he chose two pairs of simple black shoes that appeared slightly scuffed, with well-worn heels. We dressed in three-piece suits, each outfit topped off with a fedora and a trench coat. Sch.e.l.l was agent Barlow, as stated on the false ID he and Antony had lifted in Penn Station, and I was agent Smith. The county coroner, a Dr. James Cardiff, lived in a nice, old, two-story place off Middle Neck Road in the town of Great Neck. We arrived at his house precisely in the middle of the dinner hour, as Sch.e.l.l had planned it. The sun had already set, and the night felt more like winter than autumn. There were lights on in most of the houses on the block and the air was laced with the smell of frying onions. As we walked up the path to the front porch, Sch.e.l.l advised me, "No pleasantries. Just stare at him as if you believe he's guilty of something."

I nodded.

We climbed the steps, and Sch.e.l.l rapped rather long and hard on the front door. A plump woman in late middle age, with graying hair, impressive jowls, and wearing an ap.r.o.n, answered. She was a little startled to see us standing there, but she composed herself and asked, "Can I help you?" Sch.e.l.l flashed the badge and ID quickly and then pocketed them. "Federal Bureau of Investigation," he said. "I'm agent Barlow and this is agent Smith." I quickly touched the brim of my hat as a greeting to the woman but did not alter my blank expression. "We're here to speak to Dr. Cardiff."