"Perhaps I should go with you," I said.

"Don't worry, it won't be necessary. I know you have to catch up on your studying."

My mind was racing quickly to find a rejoinder that might make him reconsider. I was so frantically scheming I didn't, at first, notice the smile on his face. It wasn't his business smile, but a broad grin. When I finally noticed it, I gave up and laughed.

"Conning the con?" he asked.

I nodded. "I need to see Isabel," I said.

"Need?" said Schell, raising his eyebrows. "This girl has you conned."

"I'm a true believer," I said.

"Okay, we'll go. It isn't a bad idea to pump Parks for some information. I just want you to know one thing. Even though honesty is rarely the best policy, you can always tell me the truth."

"I know," I said, thinking about the fact that we still hadn't told him about the episode with the hat.

Three hours later, Schell and I sat before Parks, who was perched on his throne in the parlor, cigarette holder in hand. He'd been delighted that we'd come by to see him and had the guard send us right up to the mansion. Upon greeting us he patted Schell on the back as if he were an old friend and even shook my hand.

"Poor Barnes," said Parks, "I doubt he'll ever recover from this loss."

"As I understand it, they're burying the girl tomorrow," said Schell.

Parks closed his eyes. "Yes, I'll be there. I spent yesterday evening at the wake. Dreadful."

"I'd very much like to go, but I can't be seen at the funeral. I'm afraid the police would find out it was us who'd found the body. We'd then become suspects. I'd prefer if you didn't mention our involvement to anyone."

"So, it was you," said Parks. "I should have known that once you were on the case things would move more rapidly. Say no more." He waved his free hand. "I understand the dilemma. I'm just pleased I was able to put you in contact with Harold. If it wasn't for your special gifts, the police would still be looking for her."

"Ondoo and I are here for a specific purpose today," said Schell. "I've obtained a list of names from Barnes of everyone who visited his home in the last month before Charlotte's disappearance. I need to know whatever you know about them."

Parks was obviously pleased with himself as now being the man with the answers, and he showed it by swinging his legs. "I probably know them all," he said.

"The first is Stephen Trumball, do you know him?"

"Of course," said Parks. "He's…"

Schell held up his hand and said, "Excuse me for a moment. I just remembered that I'd intended to have Ondoo clear your house of any evil manifestations while we were here. As a favor, of course, for your having helped me to contact Barnes. Do you have any reservations about Ondoo walking the hallways of your house and blessing it?"

"None whatsoever," said Parks. "In fact, I'd appreciate it. Ever since the sйance I've felt some ill sensations, cold breezes and so forth. I believe my wife has left some of her spirit behind. If your boy can whisk that away, I'd be delighted."

Parks smiled at me, and I smiled back, although his use of the phrase "your boy" rankled me. Schell was obviously opening a window for me to go and find Isabel, so whatever small complaint I had was swamped by gratitude. I put my hands together, like a Catholic in prayer, and slowly stood. Taking a step forward, I began gibbering my fake swami language, low and guttural, driving away the evil spirits before me. Parks's eyes were wide with an appreciation of the power I was employing on his behalf, and Schell wore his business smile. They watched me inch my way toward the door of the room. As I stepped out into the hallway, I heard Schell say, "This fellow, Trumball, what's he about?"

Once out in the hallway, I dropped my arms and quickened my pace. The Parks place was enormous, and I had no idea where Isabel might be. I surmised that Schell could buy me almost an hour, and that would have to be sufficient. It wasn't long before the opulence of the rooms and decor put me in a kind of trance. I met two maids in my travels, but neither of them was Isabel. I passed through a glassed-in patio with an indoor swimming pool, a vast ballroom, a kitchen big enough to hold supplies for an army. It seemed everything was made of gold or sterling silver, glittering quartz or smooth teak.

I'd searched for the better part of a half hour and was beginning to think that all of my elaborate scheming would go for nothing when I passed into a long hallway. There was Isabel at the opposite end on her knees, scrubbing the tiled floor with a brush. I was startled to finally find her, and for a moment I simply watched. At first, I noticed the graceful, purposeful manner with which she worked, leaning forward and employing the brush in hard, measured strokes, occasionally rinsing the brush in a pail of soapy water. Somewhere during my observation, my attention was distracted from the laudable scrub job she was doing to the curves of her body, and it was at that moment she looked up.

"Here to rescue me from my drudgery?" she said and smiled, sitting back on bent knees. She reached up with the back of her forearm and wiped the sweat off her brow.

"I needed to see you," I said.

She stood up, her expression growing serious, no doubt in reaction to mine. "Is something wrong?"

I nodded as I walked toward her. She dropped the brush into her pail and then lifted it by the handle. "Come," she said and waved me toward a door to her left. We entered a kind of anteroom, and then went through another door to an inner office furnished with a desk and bookcases, filing cabinets, and a separate table with a typewriter. She set the pail down beside the door, which she closed behind us.

"їQuй pasa?" she said.

I wanted to tell her about the Barnes girl, but knew, in all fairness to Schell, that I couldn't. Instead I slowly put my arms around her. She didn't push me away but fell softly forward against me, and we kissed. This was no parting kiss to initiate a romance, as the last had been, but an urgent, passionate one. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was doing it with everything I had.

I wanted to call you, but there was never the chance," said Isabel. As she spoke she stepped backward, pulling me along by the shoulders. She came to rest against the edge of the desk, and then hopped up to sit on top of it.

"We've got to find a way to be together without relying on the phone," I said as she hiked her skirt somewhat and lifted her legs to encircle my waist. We kissed again, this time for at least five minutes, and I felt her tongue enter my mouth. This was all wonderfully new to me. I could feel my temperature, among other things, rise.

"Do you have any days off?" I asked when our lips finally parted.

She reached her hand down between my legs and rubbed me through the gauzy material of my swami trousers. "El domingo, por la maсana, I walk to the church in Oyster Bay. Meet me there after the ten o'clock mass."

"I'll be there," I said and started kissing her again.

She pulled down the waistband of my trousers, releasing my swollen member, and said, "їQuiйn es el encantadуr de serpientes ahora?"

I brought my hand up to her breasts. My mind was reeling. At the same moment that I was frantically engaged, all the time I was thinking, I can't believe this is happening.

Then she pushed me gently back away from her, reached up under her dress, and drew her underpants down to her knees. "Take them," she said, none of her sly humor in her voice, only a genuine urgency. I pulled them down around her ankles and off over her shoes. With them still balled up in my hand, I moved back toward her, my own trousers at midthigh, my erection arching upward as if trying to escape my body. As I stepped up close, she opened her legs and began to lift her skirt, and then I stopped dead, for in my mind rose the image of the cloth covering the lower portion of Charlotte Barnes's body. I saw it clearly, and saw as plain as day the symbol that was emblazoned upon it.