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Stoat nodded wanly。 Those had been his exact words。
〃Another fabulous golfer's paradise。 Just what the world needs；〃 the one…eyed man said； 〃and you did all this having never set foot on the island； having never laid eyes on the place。 Correct？〃
In a voice so timorous that he scarcely recognized it； Palmer Stoat said： 〃That's how it goes down。 I work the political side of the street； that's all。 I've got nothing to do with the thing itself。〃
The man laughed barrenly。 〃 'The thing itself！ You mean the monstrosity？〃
Stoat swallowed hard。 His neck muscles hurt from looking upward at such a steep angle。
〃A client calls me about some piece of legislation he's got an interest in；〃 he said。 〃So I make a phone call or two。 Maybe take some senator and his secretary out for a nice dinner。 That's all I do。 That's how it goes down。〃
〃And for that you get paid how much？〃
〃Depends；〃 Stoat replied。
〃For the Shearwater bridge？〃
〃A hundred thousand dollars was the agreement。〃 Palmer Stoat could not help himself； he was such a peacock。 Even when faced with a life…threatening situation； he couldn't resist broadcasting his obscenely exorbitant fees。
The captain said； 〃And you have no trouble looking at yourself in the mirror every morning？〃
Stoat reddened。
〃Incredible；〃 the man said。 He came purposefully around the leather chair and with one hand easily overturned the heavy desk。 Then he kicked the chair out from under Stoat； dumping him on his butt。 The towel came untied and Stoat lunged for it； but the one…eyed man snatched it away and； with a theatrical flair； flung it cape…like across the horns of the stuffed buffalo。
Then he wheeled to stand over Stoat； a bloated harp seal wriggling across the carpet。 〃I'm going to do this job for your buddy Dick；〃 the man growled； 〃only because I don't see how not to。〃
〃Thank you；〃 cheeped the cowering lobbyist。
〃As for your dog； if he's really missing an ear or a paw or even a toenail； I'll deal appropriately with the young fellow who did it。〃 The captain paused in contemplation。
〃As for your wife…is that her？〃…pointing at the upended picture frame on the floor； and not waiting for Stoat's answer。 〃If I find her alive；〃 the man said； pacing now； 〃I'll set her loose。 What she does then； that's up to her。 But I do intend to advise her to consider all options。 I intend to tell her she can surely do better； much better； than the sorry likes of you。〃
Palmer Stoat had crawled into a corner； beneath a stacked glass display of antique cigar boxes。 The bearded man approached； his legs bare and grime…streaked below the hem of the kilt。 Stoat shielded his head with his arms。 He heard the big man humming。 It was a tune Stoat recognized from an old Beach Boys album…〃Wouldn't It Be Great；〃 or something like that。
He peeked out to see； inches from his face； the intruder's muddy boots。
〃What I ought to do；〃 Palmer Stoat heard the man say； 〃I ought to kick the living shit out of you。 That's what would lift my spirits。 That's what would put a spring in my step； ha！ But I suppose I won't。〃 The man dropped to one knee； his good eye settling piercingly on Stoat while the crimson orb wandered。
〃Don't hurt me；〃 said Stoat； lowering his arms。
〃It's so tempting。〃
〃Please don't。〃
The bearded man dangled the two bird beaks for Stoat to examine。 〃Vultures；〃 he said。 〃They caught me in a bad mood。〃
Stoat closed his eyes and held them shut until he was alone。 He didn't move from the floor for two hours； long after the intruder had departed。 He remained bunched in the corner； his chin propped on his pallid knees； and tried to gather himself。 Every time he thought about the last thing the captain had said； Palmer Stoat shuddered。
〃Your wife is a very attractive woman。 〃
17
The dog was having a grand time。
That's the thing about being a Labrador retriever…you were born for fun。 Seldom was your loopy； freewheeling mind cluttered by contemplation； and never at all by somber worry； every day was a romp。 What else could there possibly be to life？ Eating was a thrill。 Pissing was a treat。 Shitting was a joy。 And licking your own balls？ Bliss。 And everywhere you went were gullible humans who patted and hugged and fussed over you。
So the dog was having a blast； cruising in the station wagon with Twilly Spree and Desirata Stoat。 The new name？ Fine。 McGuinn was just fine。 Boodle had been OK； too。 Truthfully； the dog didn't care what they called him； he would've answered to anything。 〃e on； Buttface； it's dinnertime！〃…and he would've e galloping just as rapturously； his truncheon of a tail wagging just as fast。 He couldn't help it。 Labradors operated by the philosophy that life was too brief for anything but fun and mischief and spontaneous carnality。
Did he miss Palmer Stoat？ It was impossible to know； the canine memory being more sensually absorbent than sentimental； more stocked with sounds and smells than emotions。 McGuinn's brain was forever imprinted with the smell of Stoat's cigars； for example； and the jangle of his drunken late…night fumbling at the front door。 And just as surely he could recall those brisk dawns in the duck blind； when Stoat was still trying to make a legitimate retriever out of him…the frenzied flutter of bird wings； the pop…pop…pop of shotguns； the ring of men's voices。 Lodged in McGuinn's memory bank was every path he'd ever run； every tomcat he'd ever treed； every leg he'd tried to hump。 But whether he truly missed his master's panionship； who could say。 Labradors tended to live exclusively； gleefully； obliviously in the moment。
And at the moment McGuinn was happy。 He had always liked Desie； who was warm and adoring and smelled absolutely glorious。 And the strong young man； the one who had carried him from Palmer Stoat's house； he was friendly and caring and tolerable； aroma…wise。 As for that morbid bit with the dog in the steamer trunk…well； McGuinn already had put the incident behind him。 Out of sight； out of mind。 That was the Lab credo。
For now he was glad to be back at Toad Island； where he could run the long beach and gnaw on driftwood and go bounding at will into the cool salty surf。 He loped effortlessly； scattering the seabirds； with scarcely a twinge of pain from the place on his tummy where the stitches had been removed。 So energetic were his shoreline frolics that McGuinn exhausted himself by day's end； and fell asleep as soon as they got back to the room。 Someone stroked his flank and he knew； without looking； that the sweetly perfumed hand belonged to Desie。 In gratitude the dog thumped his tail but elected not to rise…he wasn't in the mood for another pill； and it was usually Desie who administered the pills。
But what was this？ Something being draped across his face…a piece of cloth smelling vaguely of soap。 The dog blinked open one eye： blackness。 What had she done？ McGuinn was too pooped to investigate。 Like all Labradors； he frequently was puzzled by human behavior； and spent almost no time； trying to figure it out。 Soon there were unfamiliar noises from the bed； murmurs between Desie and the young man； but this was of no immediate concern to McGuinn； who was fast asleep and chasing seagulls by the su