The woman gazes steadily at the waves. A sudden gust picks up her dark hair and lets it…

"I hope this has been refreshing for you, detective," the lieutenant says, watching her leave. "Let's return to our search with a fresh pair of eyes."

(Stare into the sun.) "Yeah, a massive thermonuclear reaction, five billion years old -- the sun is a god."

"Aye," she nods. "And a benevolent one. When did you last have one of those on your side?"

"Never."

"Well -- now you have that giant thing to watch over you. So... to hell with cruel gods." She smiles. "You know..."

"When I had my love with me."

"Well -- now you have that giant thing to watch over you. So... to hell with love." She smiles. "You know..."

"In my early twenties, maybe?"

"Well -- now you have that giant thing to watch over you. So... to hell with youth." She smiles. "You know..."

"I still do. I'm righteous."

"Well -- maybe it's that god that makes all those atoms burn up there in that big thing..." She smiles. "You know..."

Say what? Something interesting? IMPOSSIBLE.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't have a good brain."

"Aye. Brains, generally, aren't very good, are they? I prefer backs, arms, shoulders -- lungs, too." She smiles. "You know..."

Please, this is important!

She turns her head and the plastic fish-hooks rattle in her ears. Nothing share-worthy takes place in your head.

Relax. This was still good.

"That sun thing was very pretty, I'm sorry I don't have anything to add..."

"Thank you. Out there on the other planet -- the sea -- you start seeing things in a strange light. I'm glad I got to share it." She smiles. "You know..."

"Do you wish you were out there fishing right now?"

"Aye, always do... I like it. It's like being on another planet. A water planet. With water worries... and water joys."

"There's an interesting lilt in your voice."

"Thank you. I'm half Ubi. My mother was from Ubi Sunt?. Not a lot of sun there, I hear, though I've never been..."

"So... who do you think killed the hanged man?"

"Good one. I'm gonna go with the rope."

She thinks it was a riddle. She must not even know of that business. Better that way.

"Don't you want to go visit La Delta?"

"Ha! It's enough that my fish goes there. Fifty reál a piece they ask for spring cod..."

Out on the terrace of Les Fruits de Fond, a hip business lunch spot in downtown La Delta, glasses clink over a spread of oysters. Someone can't decide what to eat. Someone recommends the ceviche. Someone shields her eyes, trying to see across the bay...

"There's an explanation to this. And it's political. You see..." (Begin a long, impassioned political tirade.)

"Aye, aye -- it's political." She stops you. "No need to step on a soapbox about it. What if we disagree?"

See? She doesn't want to disagree. Good sign. Keep it at that.

"Because it's not human. Humans betray you."

"Do they? Some of them do but..." She shrugs. "Sounds to me like you should choose your allies better, that's all."

True, you ought not love ruins and hell -- and the fading scent of apricots.

"Well, something's gotta be on our side."

She nods. "I guess we wouldn't really be here if that thing wasn't on our team..."

You would be incinerated. Or worse.

The sun isn't always that great. Think of people living in desert climates with sparse vegetation and little drinking water.

"You know, a past incarnation of myself called himself 'Tequila Sunset.' I wonder why that is."

"It's a common Revacholian expression." She narrows her eyes. "Means drinking yourself to death."

"Found a corpse recently. He'd had a Tequila Sunset moment."

"And what about you? Keeping the name?"

"I think I'm good with Harrier Du Bois these days."

"Well then, Officer Du Bois..." She nods to you, then turns toward the sunlit sea.

"This is a new model of me. It will need a new name."

"Can't wait to hear it." She smirks and turns toward the sunlit sea.

"Who am I kidding? I'm probably going to drink myself to death whatever name I choose..."

"Well, then..." She shrugs and turns toward the sunlit sea.

Not terribly impressed, not surprised either.

"Might as well. I don't really have any others."

"Harry's my name. I don't need any others."

"Well then, Harry..." She smiles and turns toward the sunlit sea.

"I prefer just going by my initials. It's more conspiratorial that way. Call me H.D.B.!"

"Well then, H.D.B...." She smiles and turns toward the sunlit sea.

"Hell yeah! Tequila Sunset all the way!"

"Lately I've been going by Detective Costeau."

"Well, then, detective Costeau." She chuckles and turns toward the sunlit sea.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."