“Tony Bing,” Edwin said. “I came to give him some money.”

“I know who he is, Mr. Fulton. We’ll talk about the rest of it down at the station while my officers do their work here.”

“Of course, Roy,” Uttley said. “We’ll do anything we can to help.”

“I appreciate that very much,” Maven said. “Now Mr. Fulton, may I have your left shoe?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your left shoe, Mr. Fulton. If you look at the bottom of it, I think you’ll find some blood.”

Edwin put one hand on my shoulder and lifted his left foot. “Oh God,” he said.

“Take it off,” Maven said.

“Right now?”

“Roy, come on,” Uttley said. “Surely you can-”

“You have corrupted the crime scene, Mr. Fulton. Give me the shoe.”

Edwin pulled the shoe off and gave it to him. It was made of soft gray leather, probably worth more than my truck.

Maven pulled a plastic bag out of his coat pocket and put the shoe in it. “Thank you,” he said. “Now if you and your lawyer would care to accompany me to the station…”

“Roy, for God’s sake,” Uttley said. “You took the man’s shoe.”

“Mr. Uttley,” Maven said, “I think you should advise your client to hop on his right foot. Like this.” He lifted up his own left foot and hopped a couple steps, his keys jangling in his pockets. “See? It’s easy. It’s almost as easy as dialing nine-one-one on a telephone.”

I DROVE BACK to Paradise. It’s a thirty minute trip when you’re flying, forty-five when you stick to the speed limit. I was in no rush to get home.

The sun was coming up, the night wind gone. Route 28 takes you away from the lake, then a road crosses, giving you one more chance to go to the Bay Mills Casino or the King’s Club. If you keep going straight, the road takes you deep into the Hiawatha National Forest, through pine trees and a couple of small towns named Raco and Strongs. You take a right on Route 123 and soon you see the lake again. You pass the Taquamenon State Park and then you’re in Paradise. There is a sign that says, “You Are Entering Paradise! Glad You Made It!”