didn't change history while we were looking for her. This was the first time this has ever been tried. I hope the cops can figure out a way to make sure it won't happen again."

He frowned slightly. "You're not a policeman?"

"Private investigator," I told him. "Amanda's father hired about eight hundred of us to assist the police in the search. I just happened to be the lucky one."

"Bull droppings," he said flatly. "Luck had nothing to do with it. You knew something."

"I didn't _know_, exactly, but I had a strong hunch," I said. "You see, during our interviews, one of Amanda's friends mentioned that she had discovered your music when she was a teenager, and that she had specifically felt drawn to your first published work."

His eyes widened. "You mean 'For Love of Amanda'? It's going to sell?"

I tensed. Uh-oh. "Haven't you sent it in yet?" I asked cautiously.

"Last month," he said. "But I haven't heard anything."

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Good; he'd already sent it in. No risk of me pushing or suggesting, then. "You will," I assured him. "Anyway, everyone else just assumed that she liked the song so much because her own name happened to be Amanda. Coincidence, and all that."

"But you didn't buy that."

"I wasn't sure," I said. "But I got to thinking there might be more to it than that, especially after I sat in on a couple of your sessions and saw how intensely personal and individual your barroom music could be."

"Like a handmade silk glove," he murmured.

"Amanda's own words," I agreed. "Which made me wonder if maybe that song really _had_ been written especially for her. If so, it stood to reason that you and she would eventually run into each other. I figured all I had to do was hang around in your shadow and wait for her to show up."

I shrugged. "Turns out I was right."

He shook his head wonderingly. "I knew I'd helped with something