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nothing that would have stood up in a court of law. Still, the police kept an eye on him as he moved on. The next victim was a member of the American consul’s staff. The secretary told me that Johnson came in to ask about handling the police. He knew they suspected him for the murder of Miriam Greenbaum.”
    “Miriam was the realtor?”
    Nathan looked briefly puzzled. “You mean the murdered estate agent. Yes, she was.”
    “That name’s familiar, but damned if I can remember why.”
    “Well, try, will you?” His voice echoed sneers. “She was a recent immigrant, if that helps.”
    The man had a genius for driving thoughts out of people’s heads. Who can remember names they heard once, maybe, when they’re furious?
    “Anyway,” Nathan continued, “during his interview with the consular officer, the receptionist heard them arguing, though she couldn’t understand what they were saying. The officer only told her that Johnson was an idiot with too much money who should go to the police and tell them what he knew. Two days later the officer was found dead in his apartment.”
    “I was told there were odd circumstances around that murder, the sort of thing my agency specializes in.”
    “Oh, yes. Both victims were killed with silver bullets. That’s what linked them.”
    “Were both bodies found naked?”
    “Yes.”
    “And both happened around the time of the full moon?”
    “How did you know that?”
    “This gets us somewhere, Nathan. Both of these victims must have been werewolves.”
    He winced. “That’s absurd.”
    “No,” I said, “it’s logical.”
    “Logical? You know, if you start with an absurd premise, you can be as logical as you like and still reach an absurd conclusion.”
    “Oh, all right! It appears, it may be, it could be, that Johnson thought these people were werewolves. Is that better?”
    “Yes, actually. Thank you.” An adolescent sarcasm poisoned every word.
    “Listen, Nathan,” I said. “Neither of us likes this arrangement. But you don’t have the psychic skills to track this guy down, and I don’t have the brawn to bring him in once I do.” I braced myself for an explosion. “So we have to work together. Can we try to do it pleasantly?”
    The explosion never came. He spent a minute or two looking at me. He lowered his hands and sat up straighter in his chair. When he spoke, his voice sounded level. “Quite so. We’re both stuck with each other, I suppose, as you Americans say.”
    “Yeah, we are.”
    All at once he grinned, a warm smile, boyish and seductive both. “Very few people stand up to me,” he said. “You do it quite well.”
    “Yeah? Good. Get used to it.”
    I had no more attention to waste on him at the moment. I needed to get control of my own rage. My brother Patrick had been shot and killed with an ordinary bullet, which had left his corpse in wolf form. The family never could go to the police, never get justice for his murder. This Johnson had at least done the honorable thing— all at once the hair rose on the back of my neck. Could Johnson have been the killer?
    “What’s wrong?” Nathan said.
    “Just evil thoughts. Johnson’s running around loose in my hometown. I’m wondering what brought him here.”
    “So am I. He’s quite obviously deranged if he thinks innocent people are werewolves, which means one of two things. Either he’s a psychotic serial killer, or the two victims weren’t the innocents they seem. I tend to the latter, because he fled Israel to Syria. There’s also a semi-reliable report placing him in northeastern Iran.”
    “Only semi-reliable?”
    “Yes.” He paused, considering me. “You can’t blindly trust any information from that part of the world, the Hindu Kush, that is. Even, at times, if you’ve gathered it yourself.”
    Something lurked behind this reasonable statement. I marked it in my mind.
    “At any rate,” Nathan continued, “it was impossible to trace him beyond that until he reappeared