"That was me, once." She cocked her head and looked at me. "Youíre wondering right now about me, arenít you ? About where I was born, what I did, who I met, where I went, how I became what I am. Youíre wondering about this apartment and trying to picture the other rooms."

It was unnerving, her pendulum swings between lucidity and childlike simplicity of mind.

"Itís what I do. I listen to the things people donít say."

"You steal secrets like a thief and write them down in books."

"For other thieves to read." I glanced at her bookshelves.

She cackled. "She said you were full of it. Smart-mouth, but she didnít mind much. She liked you, I think."

She did not have to say who she meant. "And what about her. Who took her away ? If you know why didnít you tell her mother, the police ?"

She looked at me very steady with watery blue eyes. "He took her away from her mother and Toby, thatís why. She wanted to go."

I sat back, feeling disappointment in my gut. So the police were right. "He wonít take care of her, you know it, Lucy. When he loses interest or she gets into trouble heíll dump her. Boys are like that."

"Heís no boy. Heís The Man." Her eyes narrowed, secretive looking, gloating. "The dark man everyone knows."

It took me a minute to understand. At first I thought of anything else that was possible. A drug-dealer? A pimp? Then I laughed. "You mean Death? That sheís dead? Or is this a ĎMeet Joe Blackí scenario here, Lucy?"

"I donít know any Joe Black. I never said she was dead, Laurence, and I donít like people laughing at me." She took out the M&Mís and tore a hole in the bag. As I watched, she popped a few in her mouth. ĎSmart guy, writer, upper-city man. There are still a lot of things you donít know."

"Then why donít you tell me ?" I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "Iím here to listen."

She chewed for a while, then darted glances around as if afraid that someone else was listening. She moved forward faster than I ever thought an old lady could move, till her face was on a level with mine.

"She told me that she knew him, that she knew his name. Said that heíd promised that one day heíd take her away with him so sheíd never have to come back again. He comes with the night, in the shadows, you know, and youíve met him ten thousand and more times already without even knowing it, Laurence. Ah, your eyes open wide now, do they ? You think Iím crazy, but Iím not. Sometimes when I close my eyes I almost think I see him, but I know I wonít ever, because Iím too old already. You see, he only takes them when theyíre young. Got to be young and strong to take care of them horses. Got to be young to learn to be heartless. Fourteen, fifteen, eighteen, up till twenty-eight heíll take them."

"What horses, Lucy? Is he a rancher, some rich guy who lives out of town? Tell me, Iíll pay you money if you want it."

She looked at me, blinking her eyes. Then she sat back very quickly, the armchair creaking just a little and an expression of tiredness on her face. "You havenít been listening to me, Laurence. Not one word."

Crazy old coot. I had been here all the time, hadnít I? "What horses, Lucy? What horses?"

She closed her eyes and leaned back. "The horses," she muttered, eyelids flickering. "The mares and the balls. Like it always was."

"Mares?"