Sonia had written in her journals that Chastain had been lying on the ground shaking and gasping for air. Maybe he’d been dying of pneumonic plague. Sonia had flung herself on him as fire was sweeping the field, and Kiel, in a rare moment of parental attention, had pulled her away. Her description of what happened next—I couldn’t remember it exactly.

I got up and went to the drawer where I’d put her journals. They weren’t there. I ransacked the room. The suitcase I’d brought from St. Raphael’s was gone, Sonia’s journals were gone, the sketches of Chastain—everything was missing. The only remaining proof that I’d ever seen those papers was the drawing of Sonia as a polar bear, floating in a cup of lithium; it had ended up facedown under the bed.

I shook Bernie awake, to ask if she’d removed any papers and drawings from the room.

“No, Vic, I know you think I am a vandal, but really—that is too much! Turn off your death-ray eyes, please!”

“Sorry, Bernie. But that means that someone broke in here while we were both out yesterday.”

Bernie watched while I examined the locks on the outer door, but the invader had been knowledgeable: no scratches or inept traces. I should have laid a trap. Should have, could have—didn’t.

I was tired of pretending I wasn’t under surveillance. I went out to the little common area and found the owner laying out boxes of dry cereal for breakfast. I asked her if anyone had come around yesterday looking for me, but she’d worked in Topeka the whole day; all she could tell me was that no one had left a note or phone message.

“Your reservation ends the day after tomorrow,” she reminded me. “I have a family coming in Friday, and they’ll be using my other room and the one you’re staying in. And is that a relative with you? That will be an extra twenty-five a night for every night she’s here.”

I agreed absently. Basically I had two days to find out whatever I could and then—I guess look for another room or go home. I asked the woman if she had any peanut butter, and she showed me a drawer I hadn’t noticed that held foil containers of jelly and peanut butter. I took several back into my room and smeared peanut butter over the mike under the desk. This got Peppy’s attention: she climbed out of bed and gave the mike a thorough scouring. I’d love to know what my eavesdroppers made of that.

Bernie watched, giggling, and went back to sleep.

I sat back down, feeling Peppy’s ears. I didn’t usually examine her lymph nodes; how could I tell if they were swollen?