In the insurance investigation business, it's not often that I deal with weighty issues from the criminal justice system. Most of my time is spent conducting lightweight investigations, hoping to find someone with a drunken driving record, which I'm embarrassed to say I dive into with palpable zeal. Until I met Verna Lawton. My insatiable curiosity - the same that got me sent home in third grade for putting hot sauce in my teacher's coffee - has led me into a world of yard gnomes, muddy river baths and shadowy homeless camps. All because I had to find out what happened to a cranky old woman whose life of misfortune ended shortly after I met her. As I hide in the corner of the darkened office of my former boss late at night, I peer through the fish tank as a roomful of thugs walks in. I don't think they can spot me in the dimly-lit room, but I didn't have time to escape. I think the Chinese Algae Eater is on to me. A man pulls a cigarette from his breast pocket, removes a match from between his teeth and lights it. I notice his eyes are closed as he inhales. When he opens them, he stares straight at me. I feel a chill run down my body as I duck my head. I wonder whether Verna knew what she was doing when she came to our offices that morning. I wonder whether I know what I'm doing now.