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control a case could become, through no fault of her own. I hoped I wasn’t attending the birth of an instant replay.
    “I put Martens on finding whoever was under the bridge. She’s supposed to be combing the flophouses and dives.”
    I wrinkled my nose, which brought a smile to Klesczewski’s face. We had both paid our dues traveling the dark side of Brattleboro’s otherwise appealing working-class facade, and we could easily envision Martens holding her breath and watching where she stepped as she navigated the hallways of some of the town’s dreary, ancient, and pestilent rooming houses.
    I locked my hands behind my neck, feeling how slippery with perspiration they were. This heat was like nothing any of us could remember—an invisible fog of damp, suffocating, eye-watering steam straight from the equator. Stepping out of a cool shower in the morning, I couldn’t even start toweling off without feeling my own sweat mingling with the water on my body.
    It also got inside you, causing the mind to drift. I refocused on Klesczewski. “You have any feel for what we’ve got?”
    He scratched his temple. I noticed his hair was dark with dampness. “Not really.”
    “No preliminary observations?”
    He pursed his lips then shook his head. “I guess I’ll wait for some of the lab results.”
    I nodded. It was a legitimate choice and one fitting the man. It hadn’t been a test, or a way for me to expound on my own theory that the body had been planted for discovery. I’d spare him that. I just wanted him to know I was interested—that there was an outlet for something beyond the pure accumulation of facts, where the use of inventive brainstorming would be rewarded. One of the disadvantages of being on a police force that often served young people as a stepping stone to better jobs was that few of them took the time to get their noses out of the paperwork and give their intuition some exercise.
    Klesczewski left me. I stared at the now-limp phone message in my hand. I was supposed to have dinner with Gail tonight, dinner and maybe more. I often stayed over on such evenings. Over the years, Gail Zigman and I had become best friends who had only then become lovers, an evolution that had stood us in good stead during rough times.
    I called her at home, from where she did much of her work as a Realtor. She laughed when she heard my voice. “My God, the rumors must be right.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “That the body you found is causing problems. You sound like you’re on a short break from the rack.” Her tone darkened slightly. “It’s not somebody I know, is it?”
    I shook my head in wonder. For its size, which isn’t inconsiderable, Brattleboro had the social infrastructure of an isolated mountain village. You could kick a man on one end of town and hear his fifth cousin, four times removed, yell “ouch” on the other. “Gail, we don’t even have a name on him yet, much less whether he was a friend of yours. How did you find out about this, anyway?”
    She chuckled again. “It’s been several hours already; Ted McDonald’s made it old news almost. Besides, I’m well connected.”
    That she was, being not only a Realtor but also one of five town selectmen. In both capacities, she was frequently one of my primary news sources, as I suppose I was one of hers. “So what about the body is giving us problems?”
    “Oh, nothing specific. I just heard there were complications, that the midnight oil was going to burn.”
    “Well, that much is true. I can’t make it for dinner.”
    “I hope not. I put it in the freezer two hours ago. Do me a favor though, will you?”
    “What’s that?”
    “Don’t replace my dinner with Cheetos and Coke, okay?”
    I laughed. “I promise—nothing that glows in the dark.”
    She snorted. “I bet, and try to get some sleep.”
    “Yes, mother.”
    I hung up, crumpled the pink phone message up, and dropped it into the trashcan by my desk, the smile on my face fading as