Moore shrugged. “Makes me wonder how anyone could have heard you popping off your .38 up there all the way over the hill.” He looked up the street at the truck and then back at Keegan. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think somebody set the whole thing up,” he said. “You know, told someone to report gunshots, so we’d be sure to roll up here and see you dicking around with your Smith and Wesson.” He stood watching Keegan, gauging the effects of his words. “It was just a thought I had,” he said. “I’m not really expecting you to answer.” He touched the brim of his Panama hat. “Say hello to Eve for me the next time you talk to her.” The lieutenant turned and headed up the last stretch of hill to the waiting truck.

Keagan watched the man’s slow and easy stride as he walked away and tried to regather his own scattered thoughts, which seemed to have fled in every direction like pigeons from a pit bull.

SINCE HIS MOTHER’S funeral, Keegan had been spending most of his time at the cottage, but all his clothes were still in his apartment, along with his shaving kit and shampoo and his stock of canned groceries. On some deep level, he still felt like an interloper camping out up here among his mother’s belongings. He still found himself placing pillows on the chairs and arranging the shelves the way she had always favored them—as if, when she returned home, she might scold him if he disrupted her brass-bound routines. It was foolishness, he knew. For better or worse, this was Keegan’s cottage now. Nora was his dog.

At some point, things would get back to normal, but for now he needed to lay low awhile until he figured out what to do next, and this was the place to do it. Here he could keep an eye on things. He’d be close to Eve. He could keep track of the lieutenant’s comings and goings.

That afternoon, once Moore had carted off the old tree stump and the big truck rumbled back down the hill, Keegan drove down to Frager’s, a little mom and pop grocery on Sunset, and tied Nora’s leash to the row of newspaper machines outside. He’d get some soap and razors, a toothbrush, a few TV dinners and some more food for the dog. Later, he’d maybe swing by his apartment and pack up enough clothes for the new week. He took a small cart from the rack inside the door and started up the first aisle.