"I doubt that, Matthew," he said, not bothering to signal since there was no one behind him and no cars on Bridge Road. "She's just had a bad time of it lately."
"Tommy says she smells like gin!"
"Really? Arid how does Tommy know what gin smells like? His father doesn't drink and his mother's never at home."
"I don't know," Matt said, "but Tommy says so."
"Oh."
Two blocks later he braked slowly to a stop, staring at the Clipper Run.
"Gee!" Matt said, poking his head out the window.
Bob Cameron was standing at the entrance in soiled jeans and a workshirt open to the belt. His hair was dark with moisture, and around his forehead was tied a rolled blue bandana. A large truck was in the parking lot, and several teenaged boys were busily unloading cartons of foodstuffs. When Cameron looked toward the street, Colin started to move, but it was too late. The man was beckoning, and his hand was a fist.
"We're gonna be late," Matt said.
"This won't take long, pal," he said, turning off the engine and dropping the keys on the dash. "Hang on, I'll be right back."
He wanted to smile, or say something about this being the first time he'd ever seen Cameron out of a suit unless he was on the beach, but the look on the man's face precluded anything but a studied, concerned frown.
"What's up?" he asked as he reached the end of the hedge to meet him. "Your suppliers go on strike?" He recognized all the boys, each one a local.
"It's that goddamned Sterling," Cameron said angrily. "Went on one of his toots last night, left the goddamned ferry at the island landing. I was lucky Ed Raines was in the bay and heard the horn or I'd have shit for dinner tonight." His hands gripped his hips tightly and he spat at the street. "Son of a bitch oughta be locked up."
Colin almost laughed until he suddenly glanced down Bridge. "You mean there's no one to run the ferry?"
"Well, I can, so can a few others if it comes to it. We're not marooned if that's what you're thinking.
But it's the principal of the thing, Ross. Jesus Christ, you can't depend on anyone these days."
Cameron nodded sharply to punctuate the condemnation, then took Colin's elbow and drew him down the street, away from the unloading, away from the restaurant. When he stopped he dropped his hand, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face vigorously.
"Listen," he said then, his voice lowered, his gaze on the library next door. "Listen, Colin, about yesterday-"
Colin shook his head. "I don't-"
"Listen!"
He almost turned on his heel and headed back to the car, but the harsh voice didn't match the look he saw in the man's eyes. He waited, though he couldn't find a way to still the chill in his stomach.
"Those men, Lombard and Vincent, they're… damn it, Colin, I'm in trouble."
It took a moment, a long moment, before Colin said, "Yes. I think I tried to tell you that once."
"Yes," Cameron admitted. "But you still don't understand."
"I think I do. But this isn't the place for another one of our discussions, Bob. I've got Matt Fletcher in the car and we're-"
Cameron grabbed his arm, stared hard into his face. "Half the land back there in the woods belongs to me, you know that," he said quickly, softly. "That's where the casinos were going."
"Were?" Colin said.
"Oh, they still are, for sure, but now there's a catch. Lombard says I have to sell half of it to him or there isn't going to be a deal."
"I didn't think there was supposed to be a decision until after the election."
Cameron's eyes closed slowly, opened slowly, and he took his hand from Colin's arm. "Ross, this election doesn't mean a damned thing. Christ, haven't you realized that by now? Those men, and their fatcat buddies over in Trenton, up there in New York, and out in Las Vegas, they're going to have all the land they need and the legislation they need to put up the casinos whether I win or lose."
Colin stepped away. "You've known that all along?"
"I think so."
"You think so?"
Cameron's disgust turned on himself. "All right, all right, I kind of knew it, but I didn't think they meant it and I wanted to get a piece of the action myself, you know what I mean?" He inhaled deeply and craned his neck until the tendons grew stark against the tanned skin. When he spoke again, it was with a weariness born of fear too long suppressed. "It's all gone to hell, Col, and I don't know how to stop it."
"Great," he said. "That's just great."
"I thought you should know."
"Yeah."
"I didn't mean it should happen this way."
"Yeah."
They faced without seeing each other, until Cameron walked around Colin and started back up the street. Colin watched, then caught up. "Maybe we can do something." It was a gesture-not peace, but a truce. Cameron looked gratefully at him though his eyes were still wary. "Something, but I don't know what yet."
"Think fast, Colin," Cameron said urgently, lowering his voice as they neared the unloading. "Garve came to my place last night asking Lombard all sorts of questions. A shitty thing about Harcourt, you know?"
"I know."
They stopped.
"Lombard didn't say a thing. He was with me the whole time, I know he didn't leave." Colin looked at him. "And the Hulk?"
Cameron licked his lips nervously, his gaze straying to Colin's midsection and back. "I don't know. I swear to God, I don't know."
He thought about Montgomery's explanations and Garve's doubts and Peg's worry that both men were wrong. "Okay," he said. "I don't know what I can do, but maybe by tonight."
"Sure," Cameron said, unconvinced but relieved. "And while you're at it, think of a way we can deep-six Sterling. The stupid drunken bastard. The way things are going today, that damned storm'll hit and I'll be stuck with four thousand bucks worth of goddamned bitty sandwiches."
Colin managed a smile, one that shrank to tight lips as he reached the car and got in.
"Well? Well?" Matt asked eagerly.
"Seems the gulls grabbed old Wally and took him to Florida," he said, pulling away from the restaurant.
"No kidding," Matt said, his eyes wide with astonishment until he realized he was being had. "Aw, Mr. Ross!"
"Don't take it so hard, pal. Wally was too heavy. They had to drop him in the bay."
Matt jabbed him hard in the ribs, and he laughed, more to release the tension than because the boy tickled. And by the time they were parked in front of the drug store, he was determined not to let this news spoil the rest of the day. It had been too long coming; Cameron was just going to have to wait.
"Are you mad or something?" Matt asked as they left the car and stood on the sidewalk. There were no pedestrians, and he could hear no sounds from the direction of the beach.
"No," he said absently.
"Okay."
He swept a finger down the length of his nose, then gave the boy a gentle shove. "You get your mother. I want to see if Chief Tabor is in."
Matt looked at him doubtfully, but dashed off quickly enough when he lifted his hand in a mock-fisted threat. Then Colin hurried down to the station. The patrol car was at the curb, freshly washed and reflecting the overcast sky brightly. He noted it only in passing, but when he reached the open office door he hesitated. There was no one inside. It was quiet-no telephones ringing, no radio units crackling, the fluorescent ceiling light sputtering without sound. He called out, heard nothing, decided whoever was on duty had stepped out for lunch. He scribbled a note on scrap paper he found on Garve's desk, telling him about Frankie Adams, adding a postscript about Lombard and Vincent that was enigmatic enough, he hoped, to force Garve to seek him out. He was about to leave when he remembered his promise to Peg to tell Tabor about Lilla. He hesitated, uncertain, then took a second sheet and wrote another message. When he was finished he dropped the pen quickly and wiped his hands on his jeans. He gave a second glance around and returned to the car just as Peg and Matt were taking their seats.