Chapter 11

Did this have an application in these coins? Yes, I thought it did. There were not two objects, two dice, but there were two sides to each coin. I massaged my temples as I thought of this analogy, whether it fit.

Pat pointed to the black notebook on the coffee table. “Write it down—what you’re working out.”

“In this?” I opened it, saw it was blank, lined pages. “Don’t you want it?”

The eyebrows rose again. “Keep it. I get them from clients. Keep track of this business of yours. You might stumble across a pattern. Remember.” She raised a forefinger in the air, “The weakest ink—”

“Yeah, yeah!” I said. “‘The weakest ink remembers better than the best memory.’” It was one of Pat’s favorite aphorisms. I looked at the book, then, putting it down on the table, wrote down what had just happened, with the coins. Then, closing the book, I looked at the coins on the table, then at Pat.

“What do you think?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea.”