Still scowling, he snatched her can of booze and took a swig. “I’m only trying to be helpful. Have you talked to Bruce, yet? Bruce Jewett, I mean. He was a friend of the professor’s. You would’ve passed his place here. Old farmhouse behind a stonewall.”

“Of course, Mike spoke with Bruce first,” said Tiff between clenched teeth.

“What did he tell you about us?” said Tori. “I can only guess. That nutcase thinks he’s living down the road from the Manson family.”

I kept my attention focused on Burch. “Can you tell me about the day Eben Chamberlain died? When and where did you see him?”

“It was about eleven o’clock,” he said. “I was headed into work. At the pullout I saw a man alone in a boat.”

When I removed a notepad and pen from my pocket, his mouth tightened. People get squirrelly when a law-enforcement officer starts writing their words down.

“How far were you from this man?” I asked.

“Three hundred yards.”

“You sound pretty certain.”

“I played quarterback in school. I estimate distances in terms of football fields. But I’m just a simple bartender now.”

“He’s a mixologist,” said Tiff, sounding affronted on his behalf.

“I pour drinks,” he said with a self-effacing smile. There was something of the golden retriever about his shining hair and eagerness to please. “You know the Brass Monkey on Mechanics Row in Auburn? Come in some night when you’re off duty. First round is on me. Maker’s Mark, Belvedere, whatever you want.”

“Getting back to Professor Chamberlain.…”

He nodded and tried to look serious. “Right. He was alone in his duck-hunting boat, like I said. It was too far to see any details, but I knew it was Professor Chamberlain. And he was alone, like I said.”

“How did you recognize him?”

“I’d see him working in his orchard, and he would wave at me so I stopped sometimes, and we’d shoot the shit, you know? The prof would always give me a bushel of apples.”

“The professor liked Arlo,” said Tiff with her usual deadpan. “He liked him a lot.”

I bet he did. Burch could have worked as an underwear model.

I clicked my pen a few times. “There’s one thing I don’t get. If you were three hundred yards from him, how did you notice that he wasn’t wearing a life vest?”

“Huh?”

“The professor was duck hunting, and I understand from the file that his personal flotation device was a Mustang MIT. Those vests are thin and light until they get wet, then a sensor goes off, and the automatic gas canister fills the internal bladders with CO2. I wear mine every time I’m on the water. So did Professor Chamberlain, according to his granddaughter.”

“You mean Bibi,” said Tori with no affection in her voice.

“You know each other then.”