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shallow water, not the easiest balancing act in the world, even with Jill to steady the thing. After I’d fallen off three times, she said I had the general idea, and got her own board, and demonstrated the prone paddling technique. You could also paddle kneeling, she said, but I’d better not try that until I got my equilibrium working a little better.
    It was quite a lesson. Just getting out there wasn’t easy and catching a wave right, even with Jill to give me the timing and an initial shove, seemed for a while to be next to impossible. I hadn’t tackled a new sport for a goodmany years, and I’d forgotten how clumsy a reasonably well-coordinated man can be when he really tries.
    Then a big one came along, curling nicely as it reached us, and she pushed me off and called to me to stand up, as she had half a dozen times before. This time, however, I made it all the way to my feet without falling off, and as I found my balance I felt the thing really start to go. It was a strange sensation, hissing shoreward on a tender, tricky little plank with the wave roaring angrily right astern. I saw how it could become habit-forming, like skiing or auto racing.
    I rode it clear out, and dropped down at last, and paddled back out to where Jill sat on her board, waiting for me.
    “Not too bad,” she said. “Now on the next one, try to steer it a little, just to get the feel. Throw your weight back a bit and tilt the board in the direction you want to go. You’re not going to be able to ride big surf straight off like this, you know. You’ll want to turn at once, the minute you catch the wave, and slide across the face of it, away from the break… Matt?”
    “Yes?”
    “Who’s the frigid brunette, anyway? The one you were talking to at the party?”
    I grinned. “What makes you think she’s frigid?”
    “Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult your dreamboat. I hope you had a lovely time in her room last night.”
    I said, “You’re just jealous because I spurned you for another woman. Maybe I’m tired of tanned blondes. Icould also get tired of being watched all the time.”
    “That would be tough,” she said coolly. “Real tough. Take it up with Washington, Matt. You know there’s nothing I can do about it. And you haven’t answered my question.”
    I said, “If she’s anything but Mrs. Kenneth McLain from Washington, D.C., I don’t know about it.”
    Jill said, “She may be Mrs. Kenneth McLain, but she’s not from Washington, D.C. We’ve checked her out that far already. And she was asking for you here. Before you arrived. Here at the hotel.”
    I thought this over for a moment. “Thanks for the tip,” I said. “I had a hunch she was a little too good to be true. So that’s why Monk decided to have her room searched. I wondered. Of course you could be lying to me.”
    “Of course,” Jill said, smiling.
    I grimaced. “Well, whatever she is, tell your friends that batting folks over the head with gun barrels is clumsy technique, not to mention the fact that it’s hard on the guns. There are plenty of other ways to take people out of action.”
    “How did you know it was a gun barrel?”
    “A sap wouldn’t have cut the scalp that way. You’re sure she was inquiring about me? Before I came?”
    “Quite sure.” Jill glanced past me. “Outside! Get ready. See if you can catch this one all by yourself. When I say go, paddle like hell…
Go!
”
    I felt the lift of the wave, stroked hard with both arms, and felt the board start to plane; then the nose dug into solid water, the rear end rose, and I was thrown off. Halfthe Pacific Ocean landed on top of me. I clawed myself to the surface, retrieved the board, and returned to Jill. She wasn’t laughing when I got there, but that wasn’t saying she hadn’t laughed earlier.
    “That’s known as pearling, or pearl diving,” she said. “You had your weight too far forward, so your board just dove for the bottom. Are you tired? You’ve been at it for almost