The door opened while I was having that internal dialogue. She didn’t ask, “Who is it?” Nor did she attach the chain as proof against some big black man she didn’t know. No. The lovely young woman threw the door open wide and said, “Yes?”

No more than five two, she wore a blue-and-gold satin and silk kimono. Her lustrous hair was light red like some Germans’ and she had blue eyes that were both startled and startling. When she got a good look at me, the slightest of smiles brushed her generous, pinkish lips.

“Oh,” she said upon taking me in. “Hi.”

“Miss Coors?”

A slight tightening of her eyes and tilt of her head seemed to decipher the meaning of me using her real name.

“How is everybody down at the Dragon’s Eye?” she asked.

“Montana misses you.”

“She doesn’t have this address.”

“The mailbox says Andrews,” I said in partial agreement.

“My name is nowhere on anything having to do with this house.”

“I’m a very resourceful man when I have to be.”

“Good to know, Mister . . . ?”

“Rawlins.”

“Would you like to come in, Mr. Rawlins?”

Ah. The courage of women.

On the inside the place was very neat and modern. There was a window in the ceiling of the sitting room. This transformed what might have been a dark cove into a bright destination. The chairs and sofa were constructed of whitewashed bamboo frames fitted with thick cushions festooned in floral design. The floor was white pine and the paintings on the walls were real oils depicting nostalgic scenes of the English countryside.

“Have a seat, Mr. Rawlins.”

“Easy is what everyone calls me.”

“Easy,” she said with a smile.

I took a chair and she chose the sofa.

“Do you need something to drink?” she asked, pulling her feet up under her butt.

“Do you?” I replied.

“That depends on what you have to say.”

She had a big smile. It would be hard to imagine anything evil coming from her. Luckily for me I had a great imagination.

“So,” she said to fill in my silence, “how did you find me? And why?”

“A young vet named Kilian hired me to locate a man, maybe named Alonzo, who he might have killed, and a woman the man had attacked. As far as I can tell—you are that woman but possibly the situation he related was made up.”

“Craig doesn’t know this address,” she said.

I was glad that she didn’t try to tell me she knew nothing about Craig or Alonzo or . . .

“Reynolds Ketch,” I said.

Donata Delphine’s features darkened.

I continued, “Ketch figured that you and Alonzo thought he died from the knife wound. So he gave me enough that I found Mona Strael.”

“What do you want from me, Easy?”