olan nodded as his eyes took in the hulking American motorcycle with sidecar parked in the drive and then the hulking Welshman crunching down the path in great rubber boots.

It was clear by the state of his twisted muscles that Mr. Luster had decided to force the next step in natural selection. As Luster leaned in the car window, Nolan caught a glimpse in the house window of a pink peignoir.

"If this wasn't government property, I'd have you tossed out on your bums," said Luster by way of greeting. He had a curious way of speaking, which involved shifting his square jaw from one side to the other as if he pulled words from his cheeks before he spit them out.

"Well if this wasn't official business, I can assure you we wouldn't be here, Mr. Luster." Nolan's own dander was up. "Now I'll come straight to the point. Your antipathy to the late Mr. Longmire was well known. Mr. Longmire met a wretched death last night over by Devil's Slide. And we suspect foul play. Furthermore, we are rather inclined to suspect you. Unless you can produce a cozy alibi."

"He was with me all night!" cried Mrs. Luster as she came bustling out of the lighthouse door wearing sunglasses with rocket ships on the frames and a pink, fur-trimmed, satin housecoat wrapped none too tightly. "In bed!"

"Is that cozy enough for you, Inspector Who?" Luster said with a menacing grin.

"All night long," Mrs. Luster emphasized in a husky voice. Her glasses slipped an inch, revealing, before she caught them, the contusion below her left eye.