To begin reading a mystery novel – indeed, to begin writing one – is to enter into a social contract: “I won’t give you any puzzle that can’t be solved” meets “No matter what, I won’t stop trying to figure you out!” The two adversaries, hair dripping with blood and rain, finally shake hands and just like that Beato and Battler are partners, united in solving this thing they’re both a part of, even as they build it.

The tragedy of it all is that a question that is easy for one sleuth can be demonically difficult for a gumshoe working with a different context, and sometimes the challenged party ends up giving up on his opponent, and himself, and thought, and everything.