By the time we left the bridge and struck out along the promenade toward a two-towered stone church, the rain had diminished to sprinkles, but the wind was still howling off the water and cutting through every layer of clothing on my body. Sonya led us to a plaza that fronted the church and positioned herself in front of an old-fashioned black wrought iron lamppost. "Behind you is the Jesuit Church..."

I stood on tiptoe to see her. Black coat. Black slacks. Black hair with neon yellow highlights streaked across the front. Lily Munster meets Dennis Rodman. Off to my right, Dick Teig and Dick Stolee wandered toward an area where granite steps led down into the river. I suspected that, in the summer, this would be an ideal place to sit and dangle your feet in the water, but today, I was more interested in getting inside the church to get out of the wind.

"We can proceed into the church now," Sonya instructed. "Please use the door on the left and remember, this is a church, so..."

"Balls!"

I turned to my right to see an object that resembled a clump of parched sod swirling in the air above Dick Stolee's head. I heard Nana whistle through her dentures behind me. "Boy, when his hair decided to fall out, it went really fast. Lookit him. Bald as a Q-Tip. Poor fella. Someone shoulda warned him about the wind here. He mighta opted for the Velcro strips."

He leaped into the air after the toupee, but it sommersaulted higher, floated for a moment, then dive-bombed straight into the river. "BALLS!" He shoved his camcorder at Dick Teig and ran to stand at the top of the stone steps, gesticulating wildly. "It's starting to sink. Son of a bitch!"

I jogged over to where he was standing as the rest of the tour group filed in a hurried line into the church. He grabbed my arm. "I paid three thousand dollars for that hairpiece, Emily!"

We stood for a moment watching it tread water. "I hope it's insured for water damage."

Dick Teig palmed the camcorder and started filming. "The river." He panned left and right then held steady. "Dick's hairpiece in the river."

Dick Stolee bent down to unlace his shoes. I eyed him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"If I lose that rug, Grace will never let me buy another. I've gotta jump in there and fish it out!"

I looked at Dick. I looked at the river. I looked at the hairpiece. "ARE YOU NUTS?"

"There's time. It's still floating." Off came one shoe.

"Can you swim?"

"Of course I can't swim. No one in Iowa can swim." Off came the other shoe.

"I bet Sonya can swim," shouted Dick Teig. "I think Sonya should do it."

I could see Dick Teig capturing the whole event on tape: Dick Stolee diving into the river. Dick Stolee sinking to the bottom of the river. If he ran off half-cocked and killed himself, I'd be accused of allowing someone to drown my first day on the job. This would not be a big selling point on my resume. Nuts.