A few months later, the oddly pigmented gentleman returned to the Book Stop, again on a Sunday night. He browsed the stacks for twenty minutes or so and then approached me at the counter. He peered at me under his ball cap with those clear gray eyes.

"I'd like to purchase that set of Encyclopedia Britannicas," he said.

"Great," I replied. "I'm glad they're still here for you." Then I felt a little embarrassed because I had remembered him so well, which I was worried would make him feel embarrassed. But I supposed he was used to being memorable.

"I can give you the money now, but then I need to pick them up in a few days, when I have a ride."

"Do you live far from here?"

"Not right now. A couple miles north of here."

I wondered what "not right now" meant. As well, I started to notice that his voice was mildly accented, but nothing I could recognize.

"If you can wait till closing time, I can give you and your set of encyclopedias a ride home."

He looked up at the clock behind the counter and then putting his hands in his jeans pockets looked down thoughtfully.

"I guess that would work," he said, peering back up at me. "Thank you."

Holding out my hand, I introduced myself.

"My name's Karl," he said. His handshake was firm, but the skin of his palms was cool and dry like snake skin - not unpleasant, actually.

Later, when I closed up shop, I helped Karl with his encyclopedias, stowing the big box in the front trunk of my old VW Beetle. We puttered away north on Campbell Avenue, turned right on Fort Lowell Road, and after a mile or so turned north into a neighborhood with several different trailer parks. Karl's park was more squalid than the others, and his trailer was smaller and shabbier than most of the other trailers in his park, only a few of which were bigger than single-wides. I noticed that the windows of his trailer were covered with foil.

I helped Karl get his box of books to his front door, and we stood there while he fumbled for his keys. Our trip had been mostly silent, but I was finally compelled to ask a few questions.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your new...old...set of encyclopedias, Karl. Have you been looking for this particular set, or did something just draw you to them?"

"Both..." he began. "I need something to help me remember things...you know...from back when."

"That's a long way back to remember..."

Karl peered at me beneath his ball cap and I saw a faint smile.

"I'm older than I look. And it seems like there's only so much a brain can hold. I have a reprint of a Sears Catalog from the early 1909. That helps. But I need some more detailed information."

"Still," I replied. "I mean, I don't mean to pry..." My voice trailed off, afraid to press the issue. I suddenly realized it was very dark and I was standing with a mysterious man with translucent skin, who wore sunglasses at night. It was irrational, but I felt a chill go up my spine.

Almost as if sensing my discomfort, Karl spoke to me in a tone of voice that immediately set me at ease. He suddenly sounded more cultured somehow, and his accent became thicker -- German or Scandanavian, maybe.

"I would invite you into my humble abode," he began, "but as you can see, there isn't a lot of room. This is only where I spend a few nights when I come into town. But I do sincerely thank you. If we were at my true home, I could offer you some hospitality. In fact, may I invite you to my primary residence for dinner, perhaps?"

"Really?," I asked, surprised.

"You seem to know a lot of things. I've overheard you speaking with customers at your book shop. I need help putting some things together -- figuring some things out."

"I'm not sure how much I know," I replied, "but dinner sounds good. I have some questions maybe you could answer for me."

"Perhaps. I honestly don't know. But we'll see."

So where exactly do you live, Karl?"

"Out on the Papago reservation, pretty close to the Mexican border, actually. I understand if that is too far for you to come. But I would be pleased if you could make it."

Karl wrote down a phone number on a small notepad and tore off the sheet, handing it to me. He told me to call the next week -- that a woman would answer the phone -- and that it would be his granddaughter. She would arrange a day and time. I asked Karl if I could bring a guest - thinking immediately of Jay, who would never forgive me if I didn't at least ask to bring him along. Plus, I felt like I needed some kind of back-up, even if only for filling uncomfortable gaps in the conversation. I wasn't always the most talkative person.

"As long as your guest is discrete. I value my privacy."

Karl put his hands in his pockets, and his voice returned to its prior restraint - a kind of laconic folksiness.

"I mean, we're nothing special. We just sorta like to keep to ourselves out there."

"Sure, the guy I want invite is a good guy. I'll keep him in line."

Karl and I shook hands, and I held the screen door open for him while he carried his box of encyclopedias inside. I climbed in my Bug and drove away slowly, amused by the sign warning of "slow children" who might be playing in the road. Looking back briefly, I saw slits of light peeking out where the foil had not completely covered the windows of Karl's trailer.