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〃Hey； stop！〃 Krimmler yelled。 〃Stop； goddammit！〃
The tan young man stepped away from Krimmler's side and broke into a run。 He chased down the dopey dog and untangled the tripod； which he returned with its broken Sokkia transit to the slow…footed surveyor。 Krimmler got there in time to hear the young man apologizing； and to watch him press a crisp wad of cash into the surveyor's palm。 Then off they went； the black dog at the young man's heels； crossing the old wooden bridge toward the island。
〃Hey！〃 Krimmler called brightly after them。 〃Don't forget to swing by the sales office and pick up a brochure！〃
18
When Krimmler returned to the travel trailer； he was alarmed to see lights in the windows。 Approaching the front door； he heard a throb of excited voices。
She's stabbing me！ The crazy 。。。 ugh！ 。。。 bitch is 。。。 agh！ 。。。 stabbing me！！！
Calm down。 Please try to calm down。
Stay calm？ There's a fondue 。。。 ugh！ 。。。 fork in my ass！ HELP！
Sir。； we've got units on the way。
No； Debbie； not there！ You promised； NOT THERE！ Yaaaggghh…Jesus； look whatchu done now！ You crazy damn bitch！！
Krimmler was turning to flee when the trailer door flew open。 In a blur he was tackled； dragged inside and heaved like a sack of fertilizer onto the sour carpet。 He expected to behold chaos； a deranged harpy with a bloody cheese fork poised over a dying boyfriend 。。。
But the only person in Krimmler's Winnebago was a powerfully built man with blond hair； which had been moussed into peculiar white…tipped spikes。 The man wore a houndstooth suit and brown leather shoes with zippers down the ankles； like Gerry and the Pacemakers might have worn in 1964。
The interior of the trailer showed no evidence of a savage stabbing。 The cries and shrieks of crazed Debbie's victim had e from Krimmler's stereo speakers。 The spiky…haired stranger twisted down the volume knob and positioned himself in a captain's chair； which he spun to face Krimmler。
〃I work for Mr。 Clapley；〃 the man said。 He had a deceptively gentle voice。
〃I work for Mr。 Clapley； too。〃 Krimmler began to rise from the floor； but the spiky…haired man produced a handgun and motioned him to be still。
〃You were talking to a guy this morning。 Barefoot guy with a dog；〃 said the stranger。 〃Over by the bridge； remember？〃
〃Sure。〃
〃I was watching。 Who was he？〃
Krimmler shrugged。 〃Just some tourist。 He wanted to know about the new golf courses。 I sent him to the sales office。〃
〃What else？〃
〃That's it。 Why'd you bust into my place？ Can't I get up now？〃
〃Nope；〃 said the man in the houndstooth suit。 〃Did he ask about the new bridge？〃
Krimmler nodded。
〃Well？〃
〃I told him it was a done deal。〃
〃Why'd you tell him that？〃
〃Because he acted like he had money；〃 Krimmler said。 〃Mr。 Clapley is still in the business of selling property； isn't he？〃
The stranger popped a cassette out of Krimmler's stereo console。 He placed it in an inside pocket of his suit jacket； all the time keeping the gun on display in his other hand。 Krimmler wondered why Robert Clapley would employ such a thug。 Possibly the stranger was lying about that； though it didn't really matter at the moment。 Krimmler was unfailingly respectful of firearms。
〃I never saw this goddamned guy before；〃 he told the spiky…haired stranger。 〃He didn't say his name； and I didn't think to ask。〃
〃Is he with a woman？〃
〃I got no idea。〃
〃Yesterday I saw a couple in a Buick station wagon crossing to the island；〃 the stranger said。 〃They had a dog in the car。〃
〃Anything's possible；〃 Krimmler said restlessly。 〃Look； I told you everything I know。〃
〃Well； he acts like a troublemaker。 Didn't he strike you as a troublemaker？〃 The man went into Krimmler's refrigerator for a beer。 〃Was he pissed when you told him about the new bridge？〃
〃Not that I could tell；〃 Krimmler said。 〃Why the hell would he care about a bridge？〃
The man with the gun was silent for a few moments。 Then he said： 〃It's a helluva sound system you got in this cozy little tin can。〃
〃Yeah。 Thanks。〃
〃You can actually hear the people out of breath on those tapes。 You can hear them wheezing and gasping and shit。 It's just amazing what's possible on a first…rate sound system。〃
〃The speakers are brand…new；〃 Krimmler said。 〃From Germany。〃
The spiky…haired man opened the beer and took a swallow。 〃So。 This troublemaker with the black dog…where would he be staying on the island？〃
〃If he's not camping out； then he's probably at Mrs。 Stinson's bed…and…breakfast。〃
〃And where's that？〃
Krimmler gave directions。 The man holstered his gun。 He told Krimmler it was all right to get up off the floor。
〃Can I ask your name？〃
〃Gash。〃
〃You really work for Clapley？〃
〃I do。 Ask him yourself。〃 The stranger turned for the door。
〃That tape you were listening to；〃 said Krimmler； 〃was that for real？ Was that you on there； calling for help？〃
The man laughed…a creepy and unsettling gurgle that made Krimmler sorry he'd asked。
〃That's good；〃 Mr。 Gash said。 〃That's really rich。〃
〃Look； I didn't mean anything。〃
〃Hey； it's OK。 I'm laughing because the man on that tape； he's dead。 Dead as a fucking doornail。 Those were his last mortal words you heard： 'You crazy damn bitch！！' The last living breath out of his mouth。〃
Mr。 Gash chuckled again； then stepped into the night。
It was nine…thirty； and Lisa June Peterson was alone in her office； which adjoined the governor's own。 When the phone rang； she assumed it was Douglas； the probate attorney she'd been dating。 Every time Douglas called； the first question was： 〃What're you wearing； Lisa June？〃
So tonight； being in a frisky mood； she picked up the phone and said： 〃No panties！〃
And a male voice； deeper and older…sounding than Douglas's； responded： 〃Me neither； hon。〃
The governor's executive assistant gasped。
〃Ah； sweet youth；〃 the voice said。
Lisa June Peterson stammered an apology。 〃I'm so…I thought you were somebody else。〃
〃Some days I think the same thing。〃
〃What can I do for you？〃 Lisa June asked。
〃Get me an appointment with the governor。〃
〃I'm afraid he's out of town。〃 Lisa June； trying to recover； hoping to sound cool and professional。
The caller said： 〃Then I'll catch up with him later。〃
She was troubled by something in the man's tone…not menace； exactly； but a blunt certainty of purpose。 〃Maybe I can help；〃 she said。
〃I seriously doubt it。〃
〃I can try to reach him。 Does Governor Artemus know you？〃
〃Apparently so；〃 the man said。
〃May I have your name？〃
〃Tyree。 You need me to spell it？〃
〃No。〃 Lisa June Peterson was floored。 〃Is this some kind of a joke？〃
〃Anything but。〃
〃You're Governor Tyree…no bullshit？〃
〃Since when do fine young ladies use that word in formal conversation？ I am shocked to the marrow。〃
Lisa June Peterson already was on her feet； collecting her purse and car keys。 〃Where are you now？〃 she asked the caller。 〃Pay phone down on Monroe。〃
〃Meet me in front of the capitol。 Ten minutes。〃
〃Why？〃
She said； 〃I drive a Taurus wagon。 I'm wearing a blue dress and glasses。〃
〃And no panties； 'member？〃
Nothing in Lisa June Peterson's experience prepared her for the si