“I can’t help that,” said Brody. “I don’t know who told you you were going to see that shark. They don’t just come up on the beach and shake hands, you know.”

“Don’t smart-mouth me, buddy.”

Brody stood up. “Listen, mister,” he said, pulling his wallet from the belt of his bathing suit and opening it so the man could see his badge. “I’m the chief of police in this town. I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are, but you don’t march onto a private beach in Amity and start behaving like a bum. Now state your business or beat it.”

The man stopped posturing. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just after all that goddam traffic and the kids screaming in my ear, I thought at least we’d get a look at the shark. That’s what we come all the way out here for.”

“You drove two and a half hours to see a shark? Why?”

“Something to do. Last weekend we went to Jungle Habitat. We thought maybe this weekend we’d go to the Jersey Shore. But then we heard about the shark out here. The kids never seen a shark before.”

“Well, I hope they don’t see one today, either.”

“Shit,” said the man.

“You said we’d see a shark!” whined one of the boys.

“Shut your mouth, Benny!” The man turned back to Brody. “Is it okay if we have lunch here?”

Brody knew he could order the people down to the public beach, but without a resident’s parking sticker they would have to park their camper more than a mile from the beach, so he said, “I guess so. If somebody complains, you’ll have to move, but I doubt anyone will complain today. Go ahead. But don’t leave anything—not a gum wrapper or a match-stick—on the beach, or I’ll slap a ticket on you for littering.”

“Okay.” The man said to his wife, “You got the cooler?”

“I left it in the camper,” she said. “I didn’t know we’d be staying.”

“Shit.” The man trudged down the dune, panting. The woman and her two children walked twenty or thirty yards away and sat on the sand.

Brody looked at his watch: 12:15. He reached into the beach bag and took out the walkie-talkie. He pushed a button and said, “You there, Leonard?” Then he released the button.

In a moment the reply came back, rasping through the speaker. “I read you, Chief. Over.” Hendricks had volunteered to spend the weekend on the public beach, as the third point in the triangle of watch. (“You’re getting to be a regular beach bum,” Brody had said when Hendricks volunteered. Hendricks had laughed and said, “Sure, Chief. If you’re going to live in a place like this, you might as well become a beautiful people.”)

“What’s up?” said Brody. “Anything going on?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, but there is a little problem. People keep coming up to me and trying to give me tickets. Over.”