I was feeding dinner to my adopted swans, Tristan and Isolde, when the deck that surrounds my floating home gave the slight shudder that signaled a visitor. The subsequent bobbing motion was moderate, suggesting a lightweight person. Female, I guessed. I continued our Wheaties meal, my legs dangling over the deck. After a count of three I turned to see Zelda Bartlett round the corner like she owned it.

An attractive woman a few years shy of thirty, she obviously worked at being fit. She sauntered toward me wearing a sleeveless black dress. And a nice saunter it was, each stride confident and firmly planted, though any slip would deposit her in the bay.

Her grand entrance accomplished, she dropped beside me in one fluid motion and draped shapely legs over the deck. "How very sweet, Ray," she smirked. "Your own little waterfowl couple! They say that swans mate for life, just like us humans. Did you know that?"

I stopped feeding them and studied Zelda's expression. Was she baiting me? I decided that she couldn't know about Regina's dramatic exit from our matrimonial state. Though it was old news, I had known Zelda only a short time.

"What brings you here?" I asked.

"You've hounded me every day for a week to get you an audience with Doctor Dexter. I want to know why."

"Because I've only known you for a week."

"No, why are you so eager to see him?"

"Because of my research. I'm teaching a computer to reason like a human. I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, but I need the help of an expert in psychology. An expert in belief systems." All of which I had told her repeatedly. Zelda was the keeper of Dexter's appointments. The gossip on campus maintained that she was also, until recently, his long-time lover.

She pulled a piece of cereal from the Wheaties box I held and extended it to Tristan. When he reached for it she pulled it back playfully. "Julius is very busy," she said. "Besides having a full time caseload of clients, he's a tenured professor at the university. And to top it all off, he's about to publish his research, which he's kept secret until now. Then you come along and demand a chunk of his time. At first I assumed you were just another nerdy grad student from the computer science department."

"How do you know I'm not?"

"Because everyone's talking about you - your bravado last Sunday at the cathedral. The rumors are flying, you know. First there are mysterious black mass rituals outside the church for two weeks in a row. Then Father Peter jumps off the cathedral roof."

"He didn't jump," I said. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "And I don't know of any connection to the rituals. Most people think those were just student pranks. Anyway, the newspaper kept my name out of the articles, at my request. How did you find out?"

"You and Julius aren't the only ones on campus who know how to do research."

"And what have you learned from your research?"

She counted off the points on her fingers. "That you're the Computer Science department's shining light with your work on intelligent computers. That you're positioning yourself for a large grant from the university's high tech incubator program. That before coming here you consulted for a bleeding edge startup called NeuralSense and you sold them the patents and intellectual property for a couple of inventions you developed. You got just enough money to pay for this house, the thirty-five foot sailboat sitting next to it, and three years tuition in grad school."

"Very thorough. Anything else?"

"Yes. You're a better inventor than business man. You could have gotten five times what you sold your work for."

Her information, including this last bit, was true, but I didn't feel the need to confirm it. When I didn't respond, she continued, "And you signed a non-compete contract before you left. Which makes me wonder how you can get a grant from the incubator. Seed money like that is only given to university researchers to start a business."

This woman knew too much for my comfort level. "None of which explains why you're here," I prompted.

"I guess you could say I'm mostly here out of curiosity. If you're supposed to walk on water, I wanted to check out the miracle first hand."

She turned to study my floating home. The lower story's large windows and sliding glass door afforded a clear view of the neatly-ordered, Spartan living room. Zelda scanned the room as if cataloging the contents: book-encased walls broken only by Impressionists with a tendency to teal, a woodstove in a corner alcove, a couch and armchair in hunter green.

She turned back and her silken arm lightly brushed mine. Her inventory of my worldly possessions was complete. "Cozy little nest," she said. "Is your girlfriend here? I'd hate to be interrupting any plans you have for the evening."

So her research wasn't infallible. I tossed Isolde another Wheatie. "No, I don't have any. Plans, that is."

She stared at me with unblinking, hard blue eyes and then sidled closer. I could smell her scent, a subtle blend of flowers, fruit, and the sun. She was smart, sassy, striking and assertive: definitely not my type. At least, never again.

"How lucky for you," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Julius Dexter is throwing a party tonight. The usual mix of artists and academicians."

"Artists?"

"Yeah, mainly his fellow authors. Julius has written two mystery novels and a slew of short stories. I think he loves writing fiction as much as psychology."

"A real Renaissance man."

"Not really. His books suck as far as I'm concerned."

"And this secret research he's about to publish. What's that all about?"

She leaned back resting her head in her arms. Her body was relaxed but taut, like a cat. "I can't tell you," she said. "It's a secret." After a pause, she added, "The truth is, he hasn't exactly told me what it's about. But I have a good idea."

"Ah, a woman of secrets."

Zelda let the sentence hang in the air. A couple floated by in a kayak. Finally she said, "I think he's on to something big with this research, something that will turn a lot of heads. Which will bring a lot of research dollars rolling into the school. Which will make him a popular choice for chair of the department. She sat up, turned to me, and smiled. "Which they'll be deciding in three months."

I smiled back. "What fortunate timing for him."

"So, since I found myself without an escort, I thought I'd drop by on my way to the party to see if you'd like to attend as my guest. But if I'm interrupting something..."

"No, no, you're not. Here, hold this," I said, handing her the cereal box. I got up, walked inside, and threw on the standard party apparel of academia: tan polo shirt, khaki pants, jacket, and no tie.

I locked the side door and casually stuck the key under my mat. The floating home community is notoriously lackadaisical when it comes to security. Who's going to pull a boat up next to your house and cart away your piano? When I returned to Zelda I was surprised to see her with the cereal box upturned, emptying the breakfast of champions into the water.

The sudden banquet excited the swans. Tristan, the larger of the duo, stabbed at a speck of cereal. He then jabbed Isolde with his beak. Isolde dropped her morsel, and Tristan snatched it from the water.

"There you are," I said, smiling at the irony. "Survival of the fittest in action, even between life mates. The male, being larger and stronger, wins the food."

Isolde swam behind Tristan, raised her long white neck, flapped her wings and squawked sharply. Tristan dropped the cereal and skittered away. Isolde neatly paddled up and gobbled the remaining food before Tristan realized he had been duped.

"You see, Ray," she said. "Fittest isn't always about size. It's also about brains."

She smiled sweetly at me and I had to laugh. I was reminded again of Regina, and the feeling of intermingled delight and danger gave me a momentary chill. "Let's go party," I said and followed her down the dock to her car.