I hadn’t responded to Lanier, and he was waiting for me to say something.

“Well, we were taking turns mowing the lawn,” I answered. “And that’s always hot work. I did the front, so Angel took the back.” If I mow the front, I count it as my exercise for the day, and I don’t have to pop in that stupid videotape and dance in front of the TV We live a mile out of town, in the middle of fields, and we have a very large front yard, and a big back one.

Martin, listening, shook his head absently, as he always did when my distaste for (most) strenuous physical activity crossed his mind. But he was still looking at the man embedded in our backyard.

“Do you think he’ll be recognizable when he’s turned over?” he asked the sheriff suddenly.

“No telling,” Lanier said. “We’ve never had one dropped from a plane before. Now I wonder, do you suppose that body landed here on purpose?”

He had our full attention now, and he knew it. I felt a jolt of dismay.

“Would you like some more ice coffee?” I asked. (I know it’s “iced,” but that’s not what we say.)

He glanced at his glass. “No, ma’am, I reckon I’m fine right now. Did that plane circle around before the man fell?”

I nodded. Lanier’s gaze moved to Angel, where it dwelled wonderingly. She was something to see.

“Mrs. Youngblood, you said you didn’t see it?”

“No, Sheriff. I had the lawn mower running and I was listening to a tape.” Angel, who’d pulled a white T-shirt on over her bikini, was getting plenty of surreptitious attention from the deputies and the ambulance men. It ran off her like water off a duck’s back. Angel is not pretty, but she is tall, very muscular and lean, and golden as a cheetah. Her legs are maybe a mile long.

“Miss Roe, you actually saw him fall?”

“Yes. But I didn’t see him come out of the plane. When I looked up, he was already in the air.”