“Yes, I got the message.” He asked several tortuous questions about my credentials. Then: “Were you a student of Grant's?”

“No, we never met.”

“Oh . . . what do you need to know?”

“I'm being harassed by someone, Dr. Wolf, and I thought Dr. Stoumen might be able to shed some light on it.”

“Harassed?”

“Annoying mail. Phone calls. It may be linked to a conference I co-chaired several years ago. Dr. Stoumen delivered a paper there.”

“A conference? I don't understand.”

“A symposium on the work of Andres de Bosch entitled “Good Love/Bad Love.' The term “bad love' was used in the harassment.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Seventy-nine.”

“De Bosch—the child analyst?”

“Did you know him?”

“No, child analysis is outside of my . . . purview.”

“Did Dr. Stoumen ever talk about de Bosch—or this particular conference?”

“Not to my recollection. Nor did he mention any . . . annoying mail?”

“Maybe “annoying' is too mild,” I said. “It's fairly nasty stuff.”

“Uh-hm.” He didn't sound convinced.

I said, “Last night it went a little further. Someone trespassed on my property. I have a fish pond. They took a fish out, killed it, and left it for me to see.”

“Hmm. How . . . bizarre. And you think this symposium's the link?”

“I don't know, but it's all I've got so far. I'm trying to contact anyone who appeared on the dais, to see if they've been harassed. So far everyone I've tried to reach has moved out of town. Do you happen to know a psychiatrist named Wilbert Harrison or a social worker named Mitchell Lerner?”

“No.”

“They also delivered papers. The co-chairs were de Bosch's daughter, Katarina, and a New York analyst named Harvey Rosenblatt.”

“I see. . . . Well, as I mentioned I'm not a child analyst. And unfortunately, Grant's no longer with us, so I'm afraid—”

“Where did his accident take place?”

“Seattle,” he said, with sudden strength in his voice. “At a conference, as a matter of fact. And it wasn't a simple accident. It was a hit-and-run. Grant was heading out for a late-night walk; he stepped off the curb in front of his hotel and was struck down.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yes, it was terrible.”

“What was the topic of the conference?”

“Something to do with child welfare—the Northwest Symposium on Child Welfare, I believe. Grant was always an advocate for children.”

“Terrible,” I said. “And this was in May?”

“Early June. Grant was on in years—his eyesight and hearing weren't too good. We prefer to think he never saw it or heard it coming.”

“How old was he?”

“Eighty-nine.”

“Was he still in practice?”

“A few old patients stopped by from time to time, and he kept an office in the suite and insisted on paying his share of the rent. But mostly he traveled. Art exhibitions, concerts. And conferences.”

“His age made him a contemporary of Andres de Bosch,” I said. “Did he ever mention him?”