“That’s odd,” said Holbert. “This is the first I’ve heard of them.”

“Well, as I said, maybe it’s just us. It’s the price of having our names in the papers,” Sam said. He looked at Remi. “Or maybe Remi’s picture. Well, I’ll help you load this stuff into your truck before I take my shower.”

In twenty minutes Holbert’s white pickup truck was loaded, and soon they were in the restaurant for a meal of shucked oysters, grilled shrimp with remoulade sauce, freshly caught red snapper, and a bottle of chilled Chardonnay from Kistler Vinyards in California. After they’d eaten, Sam said, “What do you think? Would you like to share another bottle of wine?”

“No, thanks,” said Ray.

“None for me either,” said Remi. “If we’ve just got one more day at this village, I’d like to get an early start. After tomorrow, we could spend the next few days swimming around, finding nothing.”

“That’s right, we could,” said Sam. They said good night to Ray, walked home to their cottage, locked the door, and turned off the lights. They let the overhead fan turn lazily above their bed and went to sleep listening to the waves washing in along the beach.

Sam woke as the first ray of sun shone through the opening in the curtain, thinking he would tiptoe out of the bedroom to keep from waking Remi only to find her sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee, dressed and waiting for him, looking out over the Gulf of Mexico.

Sam and Remi stopped at a coffee shop to buy croissants and coffee, then arrived at the marina, walked along the dock to the berth where they had tied their rented dive boat, and then stopped. “See that?” she whispered.

Sam nodded. He was already squinting, stepping silently out of his shoes and onto the foredeck of the boat. The cabin was closed, but the padlock’s hasp had been knocked off with a heavy blow. He opened the sliding door and looked down into the cabin. “Our gear is all screwed up.”

“Tampered with?”

“That doesn’t quite cover it. All screwed up is the technical term.” Sam took out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Hello, Dave? This is Sam Fargo. We seem to have a problem this morning. We’re at the marina, and the dive boat we rented from you has been broken into. It looks like they broke our regulators, cut the rubber on the masks and fins. Can’t tell what they did to the tanks, but I’d be really careful putting them under pressure. I haven’t checked the engine yet or the gas tank. If you could get us resupplied right away, we could still go out. Meanwhile, I’ll call the police.”

Dave Carmody said, “Hold on, Sam. I’ll be there in half an hour or so with everything you need. And better let me call the cops for you. Grand Isle is a small place, and they know me. They know they have to live with me another twenty years.”