She looked up from her garden, then came toward us. We met her on a patch of lawn between the house and the garden. I said, "I'm Detective John Corey. I phoned you last night. This is my partner, Detective Beth Penrose."

She stared at my shorts, and I thought maybe my fly was open or something.

Beth showed Mrs. Wiley her badge case, and the lady seemed satisfied with Beth, but still uncertain about me.

I smiled at Margaret Wiley. She had clear gray eyes, gray hair, and a sort of interesting face with translucent skin; a face that reminded me of an old painting-not any particular painting, or artist, or style, just an old painting.

She looked at me and said, "You called very late."

"I couldn't sleep. This double murder kept me awake, Mrs. Wiley. I apologize."

"I don't suppose I want an apology. What can I do for you?"

"Well," I said, "we were interested in the piece of land that you sold to the Gordons."

"I think I told you all I know."

"Yes, ma'am. You probably did. Just a few more questions."

"Sit over here." She led us to a grouping of green-painted Adirondack chairs beneath a weeping willow. We all sat.

The chairs, which had been popular when I was a kid, had made a big comeback, and you saw them all over now. These particular chairs in Mrs. Wiley's yard, I suspected, had never been away so that a comeback wasn't necessary. The house, the yard, the lady in the long cotton dress, the willow tree, the rusty swing set, and the old tire hanging by a rope from the oak tree-all of this had a 1940s or 1950s look, like an old photograph that had been color-tinted. Truly time moved more slowly here. There was a saying that in Manhattan the present was so strong, it obscured the past. But here, the past was so strong, it obscured the present.

I could smell the sea, the Long Island Sound, about a quarter mile away, and I thought I caught a whiff of the grapes that had fallen to the ground in the nearby vineyard. This was a unique environment of sea, rarrn, and vineyard, an unusual combination found only in a few places along the East Coast.

I said to Mrs. Wiley, "You have a beautiful place here."

"Thank you."

Margaret Wiley was my third old person of the day, and I determined to do better with her than I had with Edgar and Agnes. In fact, argaret Wiley wasn't going to take any crap from me; I could sense that. She was the no-nonsense, old-family, get-to-the-point, and mind-your-manners type. I'm a good interrogator because I can pick out personalities and types, and tailor my approach accordingly. This doesn't mean I'm simpatico, sensitive, or empathetic. I'm an overbearing, egocentric, and opinionated male chauvinist pig. That's my comfort zone. But I listen and I say what has to be said. It's part of the job.

I said to Mrs. Wiley, "Do you manage this place by yourself?"

"Mostly. I have a son and two daughters, all married and living in the area. Four grandchildren. My husband, Thad, died six years ago."

Beth said she was sorry.

That out of the way, Beth asked, "Do you own these vineyards?"

"I own some of this land. I lease it to the wine people. Regular farmer's lease for a season. Wine people need twenty years, they say. I don't know anything about grapevines." She looked at Beth. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, ma'am." Beth asked, "Why did you sell an acre to the Gordons?"

"What does that have to do with their murders?"

Beth replied, "We don't know until we find out more about the transaction."

"It was a simple land sale."

I said to Mrs. Wiley, "To be frank, ma'am, I find it odd that the Gordons spent so much money for land that couldn't be developed."

"I think I told you, Detective, they wanted a view of the Sound."

"Yes, ma'am. Did they mention any other use they might want to make of the land? For instance, fishing, boating, camping?"

"Camping. They mentioned pitching a tent. And fishing. They wanted to surf cast at night from their own beach. They also said something about wanting to buy a telescope. They wanted to study astronomy. They'd visited the Custer Institute. Have you been there?"

"No, ma'am."

"It's a small observatory in Southold. The Gordons had taken an interest in astronomy."

That was news to me. You'd think that people who looked at bugs through a microscope all day wouldn't want another lens in their eye at night. But you never know. I asked, "And boating?"

"You can't launch any boat from there, except maybe a canoe. The land is on a high bluff, and you couldn't get anything except a canoe up there, then down to the beach."

"But you could land a boat on the beach?"

"Maybe at high tide, but there are treacherous rocks along that stretch. You could probably anchor and swim or walk to the beach at low tide."

I nodded, then asked, "Did they mention any agricultural interest in the land?"

"No. It's not good for much. Didn't I tell you that?"

"I don't recall."

"Well, I did." She explained, "Whatever's growing on that bluff took a long time to get used to the wind and the salt air." She added, "You might try root vegetables on the landward side."

"Right." I tried another tack and inquired, "What was your impression of the Gordons?"

She looked at me, thought a moment, then replied, "A nice couple. Very pleasant."

"Happy?"

"They seemed happy."

"Were they excited about their purchase?"

"You could say so."

"Did they approach you about selling your land?"

"Yes. They made some inquiries first-I heard about that long before they came to me. When they asked me, I told them I wasn't interested."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I don't like to sell land."

"Why not?"

Land should be held and passed on to the family." She added, "I've inherited some parcels through my mother's side. This piece of land that the Gordons were interested in was from my husband's side." one seemed to reflect a moment, then added, "Thad made me promise not to sell any of it. He wanted it to go to the children. But this was Only an acre. I didn't really need the money, of course, but the Gordons seemed to have been heart-set on this bluff…" She glanced at me and Beth, and said, "I asked the children, and they thought that their father would approve."

It always amazed me that widows and children, who were entirely clueless about what to get the old boy for Christmas or Father's Day, knew exactly what the late great Pop would want after he popped off.

Mrs. Wiley continued, "The Gordons understood that the land couldn't be developed."

"You mentioned that." I asked pointedly, "And for that reason, wouldn't you agree that twenty-five thousand dollars was above market price?"

She leaned forward in the deep Adirondack chair and informed me, "I also gave them an easement through my land to theirs." She added, "Let's see what the land goes for when the estate sells it."

"Mrs. Wiley, I'm not faulting you for making a good deal for yourself. I'm wondering why the Gordons wanted or needed that land so badly."

"I told you what they told me. That's all I know."

"The view must be breathtaking for twenty-five big ones."

"It is."

I said, "You mentioned that you lease your farmland."

"Yes. My sons aren't interested in farming or in grape-growing for the wineries."

"Did that ever come up with the Gordons? I mean, about you leasing your farmland?"

"I suppose it did."

"And they never asked you if they could lease a part of the bluffs?"

She thought a moment, then said, "No, now that you mention it."

I glanced at Beth. Clearly this made no sense. Two government employees who could be transferred at any time rent a house on the south bay, then buy an acre on the north shore for twenty-five large to have another water view. I asked Mrs. Wiley, "If they'd offered to lease an acre or so of that bluff, would you have said yes?" She nodded. "I might have preferred that."