“According to Lew, Corley was in a supermarket when he had a massive heart attack. The guy was dead before paramedics got there. Because there was no living family, a director of his foundation signed to release the body from the morgue. Maddison Sutton.”

“Seven years ago, she’d have been like eighteen. Can you be a foundation director at eighteen?”

A soft, fluttery tapping drew his attention to the window above the sink. Only darkness beyond the glass. Maybe the sound had been that of a frenzied moth seeking the solace of light.

Isaac said, “More interesting is what happened to Corley’s body. She hired Churchill’s Funeral Home in Santa Barbara to collect the remains from the morgue, install them in an airtight casket, and deliver them to the Corley Foundation. She didn’t want the body to be embalmed or in any way whatsoever prepared for viewing.”

“Did they cremate it or what?”

“She didn’t explain herself to the mortician. She just claimed a religious objection to modern mortuary practices. And she had this certificate of exemption from state interment laws, granting the foundation the right to bury its founder on its property.”

The tapping again. Nothing but darkness at the window above the sink. Only darkness at the window in the door to the back porch.

“What property?” he asked.

“A house and five acres north of Goleta. Lew Ross is pretty sure that’s not just the foundation office but also where Maddison Sutton lives.”

“With whom?”

“‘With whom,’ he asks. You’re pathetic, pal. You’re lost, gone, bewitched. Might as well buy the ring and change your name to Mr. Sutton.”

“With whom?” David persisted.

“Maybe with no one. Like I said, the place is on acreage. No immediate neighbor. No one is currently answering the door. I wish I could say the lady is in a ménage à trois with two bodybuilders who will bust your ass if you touch her, so then I could save you from yourself.”

“Maybe she’ll save me from myself.”

After a silence, Isaac said, “You’re scaring me, boychik.”

“Send me the report you received from Lew Ross.”

“As soon as we hang up. Read it and think. The key word is think. You need to maybe do more of that. There’s another thing you’ll find interesting in Lew’s report. Patrick Michael Lynam Corley died seven years ago . . . but he’s been seen since.”

“What does that mean? Seen when, where?”

“Three times. The first was five years ago.”

“Where?”

“This guy named Markham was taking a dawn walk on the beach. No one in sight. But then he sees Corley coming the other way, keeping his head down, as if searching for shells. Back in the day, Corley had built Markham’s house.”