Stephanie, in denim shorts and a T-shirt, was on her hands and knees planting mums in a flower bed on the perimeter of their back deck. So as not to startle her, Elkins cleared his throat as he passed near her. She looked up. “I was wondering when we would see you. We heard a couple of hours ago. Isn’t it awful?” “Where’s Chesterton?” Elkins asked not responding to her question. “He’s in his study. Go on in. I think he’s expecting you.” Elkins mounted the stairs, crossed the deck, and opened one of the French doors at the back of the kitchen. The house was cool and dark. He took off his sunglasses, slid them in his shirt pocket, and walked through the house to the study. The double doors were open and Chesterton was at his desk, books piled on either side, writing on a sheet of lined paper with a large fountain pen. He looked up as Elkins entered the room and rose, extending a hand across the massive desk. “I thought you might be by to pick me up.” “Didn’t want to put you through that again, Clifford.”
