“I’m telling you, ain’t I?” Scowling, Carl bobbed his head. “No harm in covering all my bases. Besides, I got a look at the new mainlander while I was up to the bookstore.” Carl’s pug-homely, wrinkled face folded into a snicker. “See why you’re such a regular customer there these days. Ayah. Big blue eyes like that sure start a man’s day off on the right foot.”

“They can’t hurt. You keep your shotgun in your gun cabinet, Carl. I’ll take care of things.”

He headed back to the station house first, for his list of summer people. The Boeing place was an easy enough walk, but he decided to take the cruiser to make it more official.

The summer rental was a block back from the beach, with a generous screened porch on the side. Beach towels and swim trunks hung drooping from a nylon line strung inside the screen. The picnic table on the porch was heaped with beer cans and the remnants of last night’s meal.

They hadn’t had the sense, Zack thought with a shake of his head, to ditch the evidence. Scraped-out lobster shells lay upended on the table like giant insects. Zack dug his badge out of his pocket and pinned it on. Might as well get in their faces with it.

He knocked, and kept right on knocking until the door opened. The boy who opened the door was about twenty. Squinting against the sun, his hair a wild disarray, he wore brightly striped boxer shorts and a golden summer tan.

He said, “Ugh.”

“Sheriff Todd, Island Police. Mind if I come inside?”

“Whafor? Timzit?”

Hungover, big-time, Zack decided, and translated. “To talk to you. It’s about ten-thirty. Your friends around?”

“Somewhere? Problem? Christ.” The boy swallowed, winced, then stumbled through the living room past the breakfast counter and to the sink, where he turned the water on full. And stuck his head under the faucet.

“Some party, huh?” Zack said when he surfaced, dripping.

“Guess.” He snagged paper towels, rubbed his face dry. “We get too loud?”

“No complaints. What’s your name, son?”

“Josh, Josh Tanner.”

“Well, Josh, why don’t you rouse your pals? I don’t want to take up a lot of your time.”

“Yeah, well. Okay.”

He waited, listened. There was some cursing, a few thuds, water running. A toilet flushed.

The three young men who trooped back in with Josh looked plenty the worse for wear. They stood, in various states of undress, until one flopped down on a chair and smirked.

“What’s the deal?”

All attitude, Zack calculated. “And you’d be?”

“Steve Hickman.”