"No problem..."
I turn on my heels and flee. I expect him to stop me but he doesn"t. He throws me back into the water as if I were a small fish. I feel a senseless twitch of gratitude. I would like to go back and say, "Hey man, tell me about it... not bad at all that big beast." But then I think that if he’s got off my back it"s because he has something in store. Phlegm ridden old man. At the first opportunity he’ll make me pay with interest.
I go to my work station. I brush the touch pad and minimize the Tiscali page. I open a Word file. I look at the white screen, I concentrate. I try tally the clues in my possession. There are some inconsistencies, things that lead to conflicting hypotheses. I try to set the pivotal points: the head wound, the blood, the house with the window open.
