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toward Sag Harbor before a stiff westerly pouring in through the slot between Robbins Island and Cow Neck. The air was clear enough to turn the lights on the opposite shore into sharp little pinpricks randomly arrayed along the blackened horizon.
    I thought drinking out on the lawn would force me into bed, but it had the opposite effect. So instead I went and put on my running shoes. Eddie looked skeptical, so I stowed him in the house and headed off along Bay Edge Drive. The only car to pass me was a BMW roadster going far too fast for the sandy rutted road surface. It would have hit me if I hadn’t jumped out of the way. But I was never in any danger.
    I’d been running on that road since time began, and every turn and roll inked into my memory so indelibly I could run it mindless and blind, sure in the embrace of invulnerable night.

FOUR
    T HE NEXT MORNING I was four stories above the Atlantic Ocean trimming out Joshua Edelstein’s widow’s walk, toe-nailing the turned spindles and attaching custom molding under the handrails, and occasionally stopping to watch the offshore breeze push the swells up into little cliffs before breaking into clean, tubular curls, throwing off plumes of spray lit up by the sun rising over the eastern horizon.
    From that vantage point you could see the estate section of Southampton Village, from Wickapogue to the Gracefield Tennis Club. Since it was the beginning of April most of the big houses were unoccupied, though busy with painters, cleaners, landscapers and crews working on irrigation systems.
    It felt good to be working outside in the early morning sun, even though the breeze was the same northwesterly that had been icing down Long Island for the last four months. If you kept moving you could pretend it wasn’t as cold as it really was.
    Frank Entwhistle had built Joshua a big house, over 10,000 square feet, so it took a lot of moldings, baseboards, and window and door trim to fill it up. I didn’t have to install it all myself; Frank could bring in a whole finish crew for a job this big. I just had to do my part and stay clear of Frank’s efforts to promote me to foreman of the crew. I’d already done my bit in management, once running a corporate division of about four thousand people. None of them were finish carpenters, as far as I knew, but the experience had blunted my enthusiasm for management.
    I liked Joshua Edelstein, but I didn’t know why he wanted a house this big, though maybe I would if I could afford one. I did, however, approve of his widow’s walk. I’d definitely have one of those if I could. My cottage on the bay was only a single story. Maybe I could build a separate tower, or a tree house in the Norway maples that lined the back of the property. Achieve a loftier perspective.
    Absorbed as I was in the view of the ocean, I didn’t immediately notice the police cruiser working its way toward Joshua’s house through the bordering neighborhood. My attention was caught by the big white number painted on the car’s black roof. Then I realized it was a Southampton Town cop, which surprised me. Southampton Village, a subdivision of the Town, had its own police force.
    The cruiser rolled into Joshua’s muddy front yard and parked among the fleet of pickups and vans belonging to Frank’s crew and subcontractors. Frank was there himself, supervising the final stages of construction of what was the biggest house he’d ever built. Not many of the local builders got a shot at the really big jobs, so Frank saw it as an important demonstration. He walked over to the cruiser and leaned against the driver’s side door. He talked for a fewminutes, then looked up at me, shading his eyes against the glare off the ocean.
    Two men got out of the car and looked toward where Frank was pointing. I waved when I realized one of them was Ross Semple. I didn’t recognize the other cop. Ross waved for me to come down.
    I unsnapped the compressor hose off the back of my