“Consider it done.”

They hung there for a moment more, her face turned up to his, their lips only a few inches apart.

Harm plopped down in the chair, still warm from the little man’s butt and reached for a pastry. The spell shattered and the moment passed.

“Well, I’ll see you later, Elgin,” Comstock told her reluctantly. “Goodbye. Oh, and goodbye to you, too, Harm.”

“Mmbllemm,” he answered, raising his hand.

“Goodbye, Chad.”

She stood at the top of the steps and watched until he disappeared up the drive. Enraged, she turned on Harm.

“How…dare…you!” she snarled.

“Me?” he managed after a slug of left over coffee washed down the pastry.

“Yes ‘you.’ I can’t believe even you’d be that rude to my guests. That was utterly unforgivable, even for a crude, selfish lout like you. You practically chased them away physically.”

“Yeah, well, what did you expect? You keep forgetting that my job is to keep you from being killed by a guy who may have already committed one murder and who tried to run you down in the street. So what do I get for my pains? Appreciation? Cooperation? Shit no! All I get is attitude.

“Not only are you a pain in the ass, you’re a stupid pain in the ass in the bargain. You wander away in a strange town without telling me where you’re going. You won’t wear a simple little homing device so I can keep track of your skinny little ass without having to put a leash on you. And then, after I take my life in my hands to go out in the woods to make sure there’s no one waiting for you with an axe, I come back and find you cheerfully coffee-klatching with your friendly neighborhood gay and a guy you never laid eyes on before!”

“Chad is not a stalker.”

“Oh? And you know this for a fact?” Harm’s voice dripped acid and ice.

“He’s much too…too nice, too normal to do anything like that.”

“When the police were hauling body bags out of John Wayne Gacy’s basement, his neighbors stood across the street and couldn’t believe that ‘nice, normal’ guy was a sexual sadist and a murderer. Trust me, if guys looked like stalkers and rapists and murderers, Ted Bundy wouldn’t have racked up eighty kills.”

Her body froze then, the color draining away from her face, her lower lip curling over her teeth. He didn’t need to see her eyes behind her sunglasses. He could feel the fear and uncertainty. Like so many times lately, without a word, she’d made his rage boil away to embarrassed sorrow.

“I…I hadn’t thought of that,” she whispered, dropping heavily into a chair beside him. “I have to admit he did frighten me when he first showed up out of nowhere. But he’s no nice and an artist and we have a lot of things in common and…and he’s been up here a lot longer than this…this person’s been stalking me. I’ve never met him before. We don’t know any of the same people. It…it just couldn’t be…”

“Look, I’m sorry I growled at you. And you’re probably right. He’s probably just what he seems to be. Only please promise me you’ll be a little more careful? This job is tough enough without you inviting home strays. Okay?”

She smiled then and Harm felt lighter.

“Okay,” she agreed, reaching under her shirt and producing the pendant. “See? I’m wising up already.”

“Good,” he told her, his anger gone. “Maybe we can get through this summer in one piece after all.”

“Ellie!” he cried, scooping her up in his arms like a child and spinning her around.

“Jim.” They exchanged warm hugs and a kiss that seemed to Harm a little too long and a little too enthusiastic.

“Let me look at you.” He set her down and took her in from head to toe.

“My God but you just get prettier every time I see you.”

“Thanks, Jim,” she laughed, putting her fingers on his huge forearm. “It’s nice of you to say, even if it isn’t so. But you look terrific. I think you’ve lost a few pounds since last year.”

“Put on some during the winter. Always do when things slow down but now that the tourist season is here I drop it and then some. Nothing like hard work to keep a body fit.” He paused and surveyed her again.

“God but it’s good to see you again. When Marty called and told me you were back up at Moon’s End and that you wanted to rent a boat to go out on the lake, I got number eight ready myself. Packed the cooler with hard cola although you watch it. A little alcohol and a lot of sun can be a mighty dangerous combination.”

“Don’t worry, Jim,” she told him playfully. “You know I never have more than two at a time. And anyway, I brought along company.”

Turning, she nodded to Harm standing behind her about three feet.

“Jim Fisher, this is my secretary, Campbell Harm. Camp, this is one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jim Fisher. My aunt and uncle used to bring me up here every summer for a couple of weeks. Jim practically adopted me.”

Harm stuck out his hand and it disappeared in the huge paw. “Camp, please,” he panted as the vice closed on his fingers.

“And I’m Jim,” he replied good-naturedly.

“Glad to meet you.”

Massive leapt to Harm’s mind. At least three inches taller than his own six foot two, a whiskey keg head, bare but for a steel gray buzz cut, black eyes like gun ports in the rock hard battlement of his long, square face. The eagle beak bent slightly to the right and a telltale lump on the bridge told of at least one break. Full lips, even pulled up in the delight of seeing Elgin gave him a hint of hardness. A heavyweight’s body, all broad shoulders and muscular arms, callused, scarred hands, legs like tree trunks, stretching the denim of his jeans seemingly to the breaking point.

“Jim taught me to sail and water ski and fish,” she continued brightly, squeezing Fisher around the middle. “Even bait my own hook. Also gave me my first hard cola and taught me to slow dance. Remember?”

“Fourth a July,” he responded almost wistfully. “year you turned fifteen. And I didn’t give you that cola; you stole it while I was talking to Dolly Biggs.”

He grinned down at her and then at Harm. “Scrawniest little kid you ever saw. Tomboy. All bony elbows and skinned knees.”

The rugged face softened and he ran a finger lightly down her cheek. “Summer you were twelve, you were a barefoot kid in raggedy cutoff jeans, swingin’ from the trees and shaggin’ flies in the outfield. Next summer, you were sportin’ boobs and sandals and worryin’ about the freckles on your nose. Seems like yesterday.”

“I don’t even want to think about that long ago,” she laughed. “But I still do freckle.”

“And they’re still cute as the Dickens,” Jim told her, planting a quick peck on her nose. “But you didn’t come all the way up here to hang around reminiscing with this old fart. Boat should be ready by now.”

Turning back toward the end of the dock, Fisher shaded his eyes and squinted.

“Yo,” he called.

About a hundred feet away, a figure shuffled toward them, waving his hands and seeming to be engaged in an animated conversation with the air. At the sound, he paused, looking quizzically to each side and behind him. Fisher raised a giant hand and motioned him forward.

“That’s Tom,” he explained. “Don’t know his last name. Showed up about three weeks ago askin’ could he work for some food. Looked like a skinny stray dog so I told him to go on up to the snack bar and get a burger and fries and coke but he told me he wouldn’t take nothin’ less he worked for it. Well, I know what it’s like to have nothin’ but your pride so I told him to get a broom and kinda sweep up. Few minutes later he comes back and tells me he saw a outboard engine and if he fixed it, could he get somethin’ to eat and stay the night.

“I knew that engine couldn’t be fixed. Gonna strip it down for parts. But I figured it’d give the old guy somethin’ to do for a couple hours and then he could eat without feelin’ guilty so I said, ‘sure.’ Well, in about three hours he had that thing purrin’ like a contented kitten at its mother’s tit.