From the Corner of His Eye

asked.
        "Search me. But I didn't tell him different. The less he knows, the better. I can't figure his motivation, but if you were tracking this guy by his spoor, you'd want to look for the imprint of cloven hooves."
        "Be careful, Sherlock."
        "He doesn't scare me," Nolly said.
        "Nobody does. But a good porkpie hat isn't cheap."
        "He offered me ten thousand bucks to burglarize Catholic Family Services."
        "So you told him your going rate was twenty?"
        Later, at home in bed, after Nolly proved the value of oysters, he and Kathleen lay holding hands. Following a companionable silence, he said, "It's a mystery."
        "What's that?"
        "Why you're with me."
        "Kindness, gentleness, humility, strength."
        "That's enough?" "Silly man." "Cain looks like a movie star." "Does he have nice teeth?" she asked. "They're good. Not perfect." "So kiss me, Mr. Perfect."

Chapter 54
        
        EVERY MOTHER BELIEVES that her baby is breathtakingly beautiful. She will remain unshakably convinced of this even if she lives to be a centenarian and her child has been harrowed by eight hard decades of gravity and experience.
        Every mother also believes that her baby is smarter than other babies. Sadly, time and the child's choices in life usually require her to adjust her opinion as she never will in the matter of physical beauty.
        Month by month during Barty's first year, Agnes's belief in his exceptional intelligence was only confirmed by his development. By the end of the second month of life, most babies will smile in response to a smile, and they are able to smile spontaneously in the fourth month. Barty was smiling frequently in his second week. In the third month, many babies laugh out loud, but Barty's first laugh came in his sixth week.
        At the beginning of his third month, instead of at the end of his fifth, he was combining vowels and consonants: "ba-ba-ba, ga-ga-ga, la-la-la, ca-ca-ca."
        At the end of his fourth month, instead of in his seventh, he said "Mama," and clearly knew what it meant. He repeated it when he wanted to get her attention.
        He was able to play peekaboo in his fifth month instead of his eighth, stand while holding on to something in his sixth instead of eighth.
        By eleven months, his vocabulary had expanded to nineteen words, by Agnes's count: an age when even a precocious child usually spoke three or four at most.
        His first word after mama was papa, which she taught him while showing him pictures of Joey. His third word: pie.
        His name for Edom was E-bomb. Maria became Me-ah.
        When Bartholomew first said "Kay-jub," and held out one hand toward his uncle, Jacob surprised Agnes by crying with happiness.
        Barty began toddling at ten months, walking well at eleven.
        By his twelfth month, he was toilet-trained, and every time that he had the need to use his colorful little bathroom chair, he proudly and repeatedly announced to everyone, "Barty potty."
        On January 1, 1966, five days before Barty's first birthday, Agnes discovered him, in his playpen, engaged in unusual toe play. He wasn't simply, randomly tickling or tugging on his toes. Between thumb and forefinger, he firmly pinched the little piggy on his left foot, and then one by one pinched his way to the biggest toe. His attention shifted to his right foot, on which he first pinched the big toe before systematically working down to the smallest.
        Throughout this procedure, Barty appeared solemn and thoughtful. When he had squeezed the tenth toe, he stared at it, brow furrowed.
        He held one hand in front of his face, studying his fingers. The other hand.
        He pinched all his toes in the same order as before.
        And then he pinched them in order again.
        Agnes had the craziest notion that he was counting them, when at is age, Of course, he would have no concept of numbers.
        "Honey," she said, crouching to peer at him through the vertical slats of the playpen, "what're you doing?"
        He smiled and held up one foot.
        "Those are your toes," she said.
        "Toes," he repeated immediately in his sweet, piping voice. This was a new word for him.
        Reaching between the slats, Agnes tickled the pink piggies on his left foot. "Toes."
        Barty giggled. "Toes."
        "You're a good boy, smarty Barty."
        He