The Palmetto Court again. Jenner left his muddy waders in the trunk of the car—God willing, he’d never use them again—and carried the jug of water and flashlight back to his cabin. The dog lay sprawled across his porch; seeing Jenner, it rolled onto its side to show its belly as it wagged its tail. The dog was unquestionably male.

“Still here, eh?” he muttered. “I thought you’d be off seeing the world, or getting laid or something.”

From behind him, he heard, “Mr. Jenner?”

He turned to see Mrs. Foley, the blowsy woman who ran—possibly owned—the Palmetto Court. During daylight hours, she had the beery cheer of a Dickensian charwoman, but come dark, her scrappy side emerged. On his second night at the motel, Jenner had found her passed out by the pool at four a.m. He’d helped her to her cottage; when he’d seen her in the parking lot the next day, it was obvious she had no memory of their encounter.

He was a little wary of her.

“You’re back late!”

Jenner nodded.

“A busy day, right?”

He nodded again. She was clutching a FedEx mailing box tightly to her bosom with both hands.

“I know! I saw you on TV!” Her face was flushed and bright. “I saw y’all with the bodies! And they had your office, too.”

Jenner nodded once more, and asked, “Is that for me? The box, I mean…”

She read the address label again, and said, “Yeah, sure, sure…I brought it right over when I seen you come in.” She handed it to him and, as he looked at it, said, “So, I bet they were in pretty bad shape, huh? Those bodies…?”

The box was from Jun; too thick for just a check. He looked at her.

“Yes, they were. Very badly decomposed.” Jenner paused, then, for reasons he couldn’t have explained, he decided to make her night: “They were…like…soup.”

“Like soup? Oh my gosh!” She shook her head in thrilled revulsion, her eyes huge, her mouth slack.

“Yes. Like soup.” Jenner nodded solemnly and then added cheerfully, “Good night, Mrs. Foley.”

She was bursting with excitement; he’d told her nothing she hadn’t seen on television, but this came from the doctor himself, and the “soup” detail would be a huge hit in the laundry room the next morning. She smiled sweetly and said, “Good night, doctor. I hope you get some good rest—you deserve it! I was saying to Ralph just this afternoon, I just don’t know how you do the work you do!” She waddled happily off toward the main buildings.

With some difficulty, Jenner squeezed past the dog into the cabin, quickly closing the screen and cabin doors behind him. He dumped his stuff on the kitchenette table and took off his windbreaker. God, how he hated the orange curtains.

There was a creak as the cabin door swung open; the dog was standing outside the screen door, looking up at Jenner expectantly, his tail wagging briskly behind him. Jenner shut the door.

He tore open the FedEx box. Two DVDs, carefully wrapped in pale brown craft paper, spilled onto the table, along with a ball of bubble wrap taped tight. Peering into the box, Jenner found a cashier’s check for one thousand dollars. One of the DVD packets had a yellow Post-it note that read CALL US!!! in purple Magic Marker, along with a heart with a smiley face.

Ignoring the tinny scratching at the screen door, Jenner smoothed the check against the table, then folded it and put it in his wallet. He unpacked the bubble wrap to find eight small brown glass bottles; Jun’s girlfriend Kimi had gone through Jenner’s collection of essential oils and selected a handful. He sat in a chair, opened and breathed in the jasmine sambac; he felt the sweet scent soak into his blood, then closed the vial.

He picked up the phone and dialed Jun Saito; Kimi answered.

“Jenner! Good to hear you! How is Florida?” He liked that Kimi never followed the news.

“Busy. I got your present—thanks for the oils. Very sweet of you. What are the DVDs?”

She giggled. “Don’t blame me—Jun chose them! I just wrapped them!”

“Uh-oh…” He smiled. “Okay, well, is Jun there? I need to talk with him.”

A couple of seconds later, Jun’s voice.

“Hey, Jenner. So, looks like the joint is jumping…”

“Yeah, right. Not such a vacation after all.”

“At least they’re paying you.”

“They’re not paying me quickly, though. Thanks, I appreciate the check—I’m good for it.”

“Please—it makes me sad you feel you have to say that.”

Jenner apologized, and Jun said, “No worries, man. It’s all right.” There was a pause, then Jun said, “So…? How did ya like them?”

“What?”

“The DVDs. Kimi picked them out…” Jenner heard a squeal of protest, and then the coarse rub of fabric against the receiver as Kimi struggled with Jun for the phone. She was yelling that it was all Jun’s idea, she’d had nothing to do with it.

Jenner tore off the wrappings, half-knowing what he’d find. No surprises: two Japanese porno DVDs. On the cover of one, an older, voluptuous woman was having sex with various men on an old fishing boat; the other featured enthusiastic student nurses.

“Jenner, I know you’re really gonna like Do You Know the Old Woman by the Fishing Port—super-hot!”

“Yeah, sounds it.” He grinned. “Thanks, Jun.”

Jun said, “No worries, mate. Ain’t no thang. Let me know if you need more money, okay?”

Behind him, Kimi said something in Japanese, then Jun said, “Okay, Jenner. Kimi says she needs my sweet lovin’, so…” There was another squeal and the phone was abruptly hung up.

Jenner spun the DVD case on the table, trying to remember how Jun’s tradition of giving him porn had begun.

He climbed into bed just before midnight. When he turned out the light, the scratching at the door began again, this time furiously. Jenner wrapped the thin pillow around his head, but couldn’t block out the sound. The scratching died down, only to be replaced by a moaning growl.

Then the scratches came back.

Finally Jenner could take it no more. He got out of bed and opened the door to find the dog sitting there, peering up at him; the dog looked happy.

“Jesus!”

He opened the door a crack, and the dog trotted past him into the kitchen and flopped down on the weathered linoleum.

It turned to look at him placidly; it wanted food, no doubt. Jenner found a can of stew and sloshed its contents into his only plate, an old plastic cereal bowl that had probably been in the cabin since the motel opened in 1952. For a second, he wondered whether he should microwave it, then just stuck it in front of the dog; the dog didn’t seem to mind that the stew was cold.

Jenner watched the dog eat, then climbed into bed, the dog following quickly to curl up on the coverlet.

Jenner slept through the night.