She moved away from the door, the caftan sailing out behind her as though there were a breeze. I followed her in, closing the door behind me. The place was done in rattan and pastels and smelled faintly of mildew. Sliding glass doors on one side of the living room opened out onto the screened-in porch, beyond which there were only lush green treetops visible and clouds piling up like a bubble bath.

She took a cigarette out of a lead crystal box on the coffee table and lit it with a matching table lighter that actually worked. She sat down on the couch, propping her bare feet up on the edge of the table. Her soles were gray.

"Sit down if you want."

Her eyes were an eerie, electric green, tinted by contact lenses I had to guess. Her hair was a tawny shade, with a luster I've never been able to coax out of mine. She stared at me with interest now, her manner fairly amused. "Whose estate is it?"

She had this way of asking certain questions with no tilt at the end, soliciting information by making flat statements that I was supposed to respond to. Odd. It made me wary somehow and I found myself taking care with what I said.

"A cousin, apparently. Someone in Ohio."

"Isn't it a bit radical to hire a private detective so you can hand out three thousand bucks?"

"There are other inheritors involved," I said.

"You have some kind of form you want her to sign."

"I want to talk to her first. People are worried because they haven't heard from her. I'd like to include something in my report about where she's been."

"Oh my God, now we got a report. She was restless. She's been traveling. What's the big deal?"

"Do you mind if I ask you about your relationship with her?"

"No, I don't mind. We're friends. I've known her for years.

She came down to Florida this time and she wanted some company."