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Actually, what I heard was closer to “watcha dun dere?” becauseAmmon Nadeau was old Maine through and through. He was wearing what might have been some of the purchases from Macy’s: very blue jeans, box-fresh sneakers, and a new Red Sox hoodie that already had a stain on the front. His hair and beard were newly trimmed and he smelled of Old Spice. All told, Ammon looked fairly respectable as he peered at me from the doorway.

I let the receipt fall back into the garbage can.

“We’ve met before, Mr. Nadeau. My name is Parker. I’m a private investigator.”

“You investigating trash now?”

“Natural curiosity.”

“That’s private property. It’s not on the street, so you got no right to go poking in it.”

“I thought I might have seen a rat,” I said.

“All the more reason to keep your hands to yourself. What do you want?”

“I’ve been working for your daughter,” I said.

“Not anymore, was what I was told.”

“Have you heard from Zetta?”

“She’s my child. Why wouldn’t I?”

“My impression was that you and she were estranged.”

“Fences can be mended. Zetta’s a good girl.”

“You won’t get any argument from me.”

Ammon Nadeau had thrust his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and was rocking back and forth in his fresh sneakers.

“I asked you what you wanted,” he said.

“I’m looking for a man named Wyatt Riggins. I have reason to believe he may be spending time in these parts.”

“I don’t know the individual.”

“I’m surprised,” I said. “Seeing as he’s dating Zetta, and you and she have mended your fences, I thought she might have mentioned him.”

“Well, she hasn’t, so you can be about your business.”

“Riggins wouldn’t be living here with you, would he, Mr. Nadeau?”

Ammon tried hard to keep a poker face but couldn’t manage it.

“I told you: I don’t know the man.”

“Has he shared with you why he’s hiding?”

“He hasn’t told me—” Nadeau stumbled, recovered. “He hasn’t told me anything because I don’t know him. How can a man I don’t know take me into his confidence? Now, I’m telling you to get off my property. Don’t make me go find my pistol.”

I raised my hands in surrender.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” I said. “But it’s a shame, that’s all.”

“What is?”

“That now I’m going to have to waste time hiring people to hang around up here, waiting for Wyatt Riggins to show his face, all because he’s put your daughter in danger by his actions—you and your wife too, I’d venture, seeing as how Riggins may be staying in the neighborhood. The people looking for him have probably already established his relationship with Zetta, so you’ll be next on their list. After all, if I can find my way up here, so can they, and they play a lot rougher than I do. With that in mind, you might also want to inform Wyatt that his buddy Emmett Lucas has been murdered. Tell him I’m sorry for his loss.”