“The sun was breaking pretty strong through the open windows of the second story. For a moment I was dazzled and then gradually I made out a living being before me: it was Rebecca, her dress torn off down her arms, her breasts naked, the hook snaring her rib bone as she hung by the hook, her face white, and the blood streaming from her mouth. She blinked her eyes but she couldn’t talk. There was too much blood in her mouth.

“ ‘Good God, Rebecca,’ I said, and I plunged at the figure, trying to get the hook out of her without hurting her more. She writhed and I could hear her gasping.

“This was absolutely happening. ‘Rebecca, I’m here!’ I declared as I tried to lift her.

“Then I heard Jasmine’s voice, and I saw Jasmine’s face, and the faces of Allen and Clem. We were all on the second floor of the house. I was lying on my back. And the sun was winking again in the cypresses.

“There was no more Rebecca. Only the rusted chains dangling and the dark slop there. I climbed to my feet.

“Jasmine said, ‘Clem, you come here, please, brother, and hold this box while I shovel up what I can of this poor girl. Hold the lid back.’

“I went off down on the island and got sick to my stomach.

“Men were talking, talking about damaging ‘gorgeous’ gold plates to open the grave. I said, ‘Do it. I have to know what’s inside.’

“I sat on the steps of the house and I drank another beer, realizing that this woman might haunt me forever. What I’d done with the cameos was not enough, and the dreams were not enough, and coming here to do this, to gather her remains, was not enough; what would be enough? I didn’t know. I couldn’t think. I was sick and drinking too much beer and it was killing hot, and the mosquitoes were biting right through my shirt, and the men kept saying, ‘Granite, solid granite.’

“Finally, at the first narrow side of the rectangular structure that they approached they found an opening beyond the gold plate, and they were able to push it back. It was a heavy door.

“They were all talking at once, groaning and fussing. Flashlights, who had the flashlights, here was a flashlight, well, will you look at that. I’m not opening that.

“ ‘Not opening what?’ I said.

“ ‘A coffin.’

“ ‘Well, what the hell did you expect to find in a grave?’ I asked. I was wildly stimulated. Ordinary things meant nothing to me.

“ ‘Now you mind your tone, Little Boss,’ said Jasmine. She gave me another beer. What was this? Was I a mental patient she wanted to narcoticize? I said I was sorry. The beer was cold and good. I wasn’t going to complain about an ice-cold beer.