In the room, the only movement was a small bird with a comic beak that dipped itself in water,straightened, and then, agonizingly, repeated the process, over and over and over. What can I possibly learn by fishing around in that mess? Probably not a goddamned thing, he said. She grinned back like the large Cheshire she resembles, andshrugged eloquently. There was no answer.
And it was all downhill from there. It was a big blade, but I'd found that in beheading a chicken one-handed you needed a big, sharp blade. Jean-Claude had never known her to change her mind about something like that. Not the kind of song Perry Como or Bruce Springsteen wouldrecord.
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