“No need.”

“I can handle it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I meant it when I said I appreciate your concern.”

“Christian, those two have been knocking heads for years. End of the day, they’ll still be having a good time. You’re the one who’ll pay.”

I stepped out of the bar into night air so clean and sweet, it had the shocking quality of ice water being flung in my face. I hoped the brief walk would dispel the smell of cigarette smoke that clung to my hair and clothes. Even as I slid under the steering wheel and secured my seat belt, I knew I’d have to shower before I went to bed or my sheets would pick up the same smell.

I drove home along the beach. My exchange with Satterfield had been a letdown. I’d thought warning him would relieve me of any further responsibility, but I was not off the hook. In essence, he’d said “Thank you very much and get lost.” Repeating myself would in no way produce the desired effect. I’d cautioned him and he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in walking away. He thought he was smart enough to sidestep the fallout. The problem was I had nowhere to go from here. You can’t make someone else do anything, even if you know you’re right.

• • •

The next morning as I was leaving for work, I caught sight of Henry’s station wagon pulling into the drive. He parked, went around to the passenger side, and helped Edna out of the vehicle.

I went out and gave him a wave. “You’re up early.”

Edna said, “I needed some items at the grocery store and I didn’t dare wait too long or it would be crowded.”

“Mr. McClaskey arrived at seven to finish his inspection.”

“He’s here? Where’d he park his truck?”

“He found a spot across the street. When I told him Edna and I would be making a run, he made sure he wasn’t blocking the drive.”

Mr. McClaskey apparently heard our conversation and he appeared from the side of the garage. He doffed his cap at the sight of Edna, but aside from that he was all business.

“I believe I’ve found the source of your water loss, Mr. Pitts, if you’ll just step this way.”

Henry and I were both interested. Edna had certainly heard enough of Henry’s complaints and I expected her to be as curious as we were, but she seemed to hang back.

Mr. McClaskey moved into the gap between Henry’s garage and the board fence that separated his property from the Shallenbargers’.

He pointed at a good-size hole he’d dug. “There’s your lateral,” he said, indicating a pipe visible at the bottom of the hole. “And that is a T joint someone’s cut into your line. You can see the joins right here. There’s a run of PVC pipe that goes under the fence. On the other side, it comes up into a hose bib you can see if you take a look.”