"In truth, the sanctuary does no good at all," Andy summarized to Hammer. "The area of the bay deemed off limits happens to be a deep trough that would require extraordinary lengths of rope for every crab pot dropped in the water. The watermen have been keeping this bit of intelligence to themselves, and so far no one on the mainland, except possibly me, knows that Tangier Island has no interest in the new sanctuary or is the least bit opposed to it. Meanwhile, pregnant crabs continue to travel to their usual spawning grounds, indifferent to their new protection and not entirely aware of it."
"Okay. So forget the sanctuary idea," Hammer decided with disappointment. "But I can't think what real leverage we have, Andy. The way you've described it, Virginia really doesn't care much about the plight of the watermen, and the watermen aren't really that interested in Virginia's concerns, either."
"The root of all problems," Andy commented. "Nobody cares."
"Let's don't become cynical."
"What we need is some good ol' fashioned community policing," he said. "And I can do that through Trooper Truth."
"Oh no," she warned. "No more…"
"Yes!" Andy countered. "Let's at least give it a chance. Trooper Truth can ask his readers to help with our cases."
"Including Popeye!" Windy was suddenly in the doorway. "Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful if we could get Trooper Truth to ask for help finding Popeye?"
"What?" Andy asked, shocked. "What do you mean, find Popeye?"
Pain passed through Hammer's eyes.
"Don't be mad at me," Windy said to her. "I know you think I just let the cat out of the box, but maybe we can find Popeye. Maybe it's not too late, even if she did disappear months ago when you let her out to potty."
"That's enough, Windy," Hammer said again. "Please leave and shut the door."
"Well, okay, but I'm sending Trooper Truth an e-mail right away and telling him about Popeye."
She left and shut the door. Hammer sighed.
"How could you?" Andy whispered, outraged and deeply saddened by what had happened and that Hammer had never told him. "How could you not call me the minute Popeye disappeared?"
"You were off on one of your research trips, Andy," Hammer said in a defeated way. "And I don't know why else, but, well, I just haven't wanted to talk about it. There's nothing that can be done. Hold on." She held up a hand. "Now what is it, Windy?" she said to her secretary, who had just opened the door.
"Richmond Detective Slipper is on the line," Windy announced.
"Thank you." She waited until Windy shut the door again and shot Andy an ominous look as she picked up the phone and said, "Hammer."
She listened and scratched down notes for what seemed a very long time and Andy could tell by the expression on her face that she was being told something serious and unpleasant. In fact, she looked a bit unnerved.
"As I told you yesterday," she finally said, "the word is, nobody knows who he is. But I wouldn't be so quick to assume that just because the name Trooper Truth was… Yes, right. Of course, you have to follow every lead, and of course I'll let you know, and please keep me posted." She hung up and turned upset, anxious eyes on Andy. "The detective on the murder case-the woman found on Belle Island. She's been identified."
"Who?" Andy asked.
"Trish Thrash. A twenty-two-year-old white female who went by the nickname T.T. Apparently she worked for the state and was a closet lesbian who was known to pick up other women in area bars…"
"What do you mean, Trish Thrash?" Andy asked, baffled and upset.
Hammer went on to explain that Trish Thrash was the victim's name and that the city police believed the homicide was hate-related and committed by a male, possibly by whoever Trooper Truth was.
"That's insane!" Andy blurted out at the top of his voice. "I was… Well, I couldn't possibly have…"
"Of course you didn't do it!" Hammer replied as she got up and began pacing at top speed. "Jesus Christ! I knew this was a bad idea! And no more writing those goddamn…!"
"No! You can't punish me for what some other asshole did." He jumped up from his chair and grabbed her arm, not roughly but firmly enough to make her stop pacing and look at him. "Listen." He lowered his voice. "Please. I'll… I'll get this straight and see what I can do to help. I've never heard of Trish Thrash and don't see how this can possibly be related to me or Trooper Truth or anything that has to do with… Well, let's just hope the Richmond police don't do anything as stupid as releasing that detail about Trooper Truth to the media."
He was beside himself. If he was forced to reveal Trooper Truth's true identity, then not only would a year's work end up in the trash, but Hammer would be in hot water with the governor for allowing one of her troopers to publish uncensored by her and especially by the governor.
"Maybe I can somehow reassure the governor that Trooper Truth isn't some deranged killer," Andy thought out loud. "And I'll get my readers involved in helping solve problems and bringing about justice in the Thrash case and others."
"What we need is to get word to the governor that we have an urgent situation on Tangier Island," Hammer replied in frustration. "Not talk to him about a murder that's not even our jurisdiction!"
"Maybe I can track him down for you," Andy suggested as Trooper Macovich walked into the office and overheard the tail end of their conversation.
"He always eats at Ruth's Chris Steak House on Wednesday nights," Macovich said.
"You two find him," Hammer ordered, adding to Macovich, "and maybe he won't remember you and the pool incident. For God's sake, whatever you do, don't play pool again."
"Wooo," Macovich agreed, shaking his big head. "Don't you worry. No way I'm ever playing with that girl, not for no reason."
"Don't play with anyone in the mansion." Hammer wanted to make sure Macovich was clear on this.
He frowned a little behind his dark glasses. "But what if the governor orders me to?"
"Let him win."
"Woooo. That ain't gonna be easy. He can't see nothing, Sup'intendent Hammer. Half the time, he don't even hit the cue ball. You know, he catch a little flash of white and go after it with his stick. And last time I was there, I set down a Styrofoam cup on the side of the table and he smack my coffee all the way across the billiard room."
"You shouldn't be putting your coffee down on furniture in the mansion in the first place," Hammer told him.
"I didn't think he saw me do it," Macovich said.
Eight
Dr. Faux was tied up in a chair and blindfolded by a bandanna that smelled like brackish water. Not especially frightened, he was mostly irritated and terribly inconvenienced. As time passed, his hopes for a speedy release and fifty thousand dollars cash were beginning to fade. He was no longer sure what the Islanders' intentions were, but they were not known for being violent.
In fact, as far as he knew, the biggest crime in the history of the island was the theft of a safe from Sallie Landon's house several years back. She had had her life's savings in it, and everybody on the island had chipped in so she wouldn't have to depend solely on the original recipes she sold in the little box she had nailed to a telephone pole near the post office. The crime was never solved.
Dr. Faux's captors had moved him out of the examination room and into an unknown location inside the clinic where he could hear bicycles rattle past an open window that allowed a constant flow of humid air to circulate flies and mosquitoes. It would do no good for him to call out for help because the entire population was in on the conspiracy and seemed to have turned on him. For the first time in the better part of half a century, Dr. Faux had time to reflect upon his life. He sighed as he pondered lost opportunities and his unwillingness to become a missionary to what was then the Congo. God had called Sherman Faux, and little Shermie had basically hung up on the Great Creator and then refused to answer at all anymore. At last, God was punishing Dr. Faux, more than likely. Here the dentist was imprisoned on a tiny, remote island out in the middle of nowhere, and unless he came up with a clever plan, his Medicaid scamming days might very well be over.