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96 10 Mon­ day Morn­ ing Cu­ biak ­ crawled out of a soft can­ yon of sleep and for a long while re­ mained mo­ tion­ less as if ­ stitched to the bed by ­ threads of slum­ ber. He had for­ got­ ten the ­ weighty lux­ u­ ri­ ous­ ness of such in­ tense re­ pose. When the final rem­ nants of in­ er­ tia dis­ si­ pated, he ­ rolled onto his side, swung his feet to the floor, and ­ pushed up­ right. The room took a mo­ ment to set­ tle, but even in the dim light and with­ out his ­ glasses, he was able to make out the two empty quart bot­ tles that ­ leaned ­ against the wall under the win­ dow. For a mo­ ment he ­ feared that he had drunk them dry and­ thought that the sleep he had so en­ joyed had come as a re­ sult, but then he re­ mem­ bered pour­ ing out the con­ tents the pre­ vi­ ous eve­ ning after the long climb back from Eph­ raim. After re­ unit­ ing Mara and her ­ mother, he’d hiked the ­ village’s shore­ line and hilly ter­ rain in ­ search of Ben ­ Macklin’s elu­ sive drink­ ing pal. The fes­ ti­ val drew ven­ dors from through­ out the re­ gion, and al­ though many ­ worked the event every year, most had never en­ coun­ tered Buddy Ent­ whis­ tle. Even many local busi­ ness own­ ers ­ didn’t rec­ og­ nize the name. Three hotel man­ ag­ ers re­ mem­ bered hir­ ing the old drunk for odd jobs the pre­ vi­ ous fall and in late win­ ter but none had seen him since. The 97 board­ ing­ houses that pro­ vided cheap tem­ po­ rary rooms were ­ filled with sum­ mer staff from area re­ sorts. Maybe Beck was wrong about Ent­ whis­ tle liv­ ing in Eph­ raim. If he was ­ around, he was keep­ ing a very low pro­ file. A smart move, ­ thought Cu­ biak, as he mas­ saged his right knee. Mack­ lin died after tell­ ing his ­ friend about a mys­ ter­ i­ ous sec­ ond per­ son on the tower with Wisby. Maybe Ent­ whis­ tle fig­ ured he knew too much and went into hid­ ing. Or he fled, ­ scared for his life. Which meant he could be any­ where. Cu­ biak ­ looked out the win­ dow. The view was all for­ est. He en­ vi­ sioned Fal­ con Tower loom­ ing above the tree line. At that early hour its upper ­ reaches would ap­ pear ­ smudged and black ­ against the ­ bright blue of the sky. ­ That’s where it all began, he ­ thought. But why and how had Wisby died? And what about the oth­ ers? Cu­ biak ­ craved cof­ fee, but even more ur­ gent was the need to or­ ga­ nize his ­ thoughts. On a ­ dresser ­ mounded with books and ­ clothes, he ­ pulled a yel­ low note­ pad from under a pile of socks. ­ Perched on the edge of the bed, he­ flipped to a blank page and jot­ ted the names of the dead ­ across the top, list­ ing them in chron­ o­ log­ i­ cal order: Wisby, Mack­ lin, Jones, De­ lac­ roix, and And­ ers and Pithy. Down the left mar­ gin, he noted five top­ ics—PI or per­ sonal in­ for­ ma­ tion; LC, local con­ tacts; COD, cause of death; Op­ por­ tu­ nity; and Mo­ tive. Sep­ ar­ at­ ing the head­ ings with ver­ ti­ cal and hor­ i­ zon­ tal lines, he fash­ ioned a crude chart and ­ started to fill in the­ blanks. Other than Wisby, Cu­ biak knew very lit­ tle about the peo­ ple who’d died or why any­ one would want them dead. In­ itially, Hal­ ver­ son in­ sisted that Wisby had leapt off the tower plat­ form, but Bath­ ard had ruled the death ac­ ci­ den­ tal. Not just be­ cause of the prox­ im­ ity of the body to the tower, al­ though John­ son ad­ mit­ ted he might have moved the vic­ tim in the in­ itial con­ fu­ sion of try­ ing to re­ vive him. But be­ cause, ac­ cord­ ing to the fam­ ily phy­ si­ cian, Wisby was fear­ ful of ­ heights. The cor­ o­ ner under­ stood that sui­ cides val­ ued con­ trol and chose a ­ method of dying that...

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