"I hope not," said Robin. "It's so beautiful."

Creedman inched closer to her. "Maybe so, Robin, but let's face it, ebb and flow is part of the life rhythm- that's a theme of my book."

"How much of the island's decline is due to the Navy's blocking the southern road?" I said.

"Have you been to Stanton?"

"No."

"If that's a base, I'm a sea anemone. The only incoming flights are to feed and clothe the skeleton crew that runs the place. Letting a few sailors come into town to get drunk and laid doesn't create a viable economy."

"What happens to Stanton after the island closes down?"

"Who knows? Maybe the Navy will sell the island. Or maybe they'll just let it sit here."

"The base has no strategic value?"

"Not since the Cold War ended. Main thing is there's no constituency here. Seagulls don't vote."

"So you don't think the Navy's intentionally shutting the island down?"

"Who told you that?"

"A guest up at the estate suggested it."

"Dr. Picker." He chuckled. "Kind of an asshole, isn't he? Couple more weeks in the sun, he'll be spotting Amelia Earhart skinny-dipping in the lagoon with Judge Crater. Sure you don't want another?"

I shook my head.

"Actually," said Robin, petting Spike, "we were going to do some snorkeling."

We stood and I tried to put money on the table.

"On me," said Creedman. "How often do I get to have an intelligent conversation. And your pooch is okay, too. Didn't pee on me."

He walked us back to the Jeep.

"I like to cook. Have you up for dinner sometime."

We got in the car. He leaned into Robin's window and took off his sunglasses. His eyes were small and very dark, scanning slowly.

"There was a good reason for blockading the south road," he said. "Public safety."

"Disease control?" I said.

"If you consider murder a disease. It happened half a year ago. Local girl found on the beach, right where you're headed. Raped and mangled pretty badly. The details never came out. Moreland can give them to you- he did the autopsy. Villagers were sure the murderer was some sailor because that kind of thing just doesn't happen here, right? At least not since they massacred the Japanese." He chuckled. "Some of the young bloods worked themselves up and started hiking up to Stanton for a tÊte-À-tÊte with Captain Ewing. Navy guards stopped them, a little civil unrest resulted. Soon after, the Navy started building that blockade."

He shrugged. "Sorry to darken your day, but one thing I've learned: the only real escape is in your head."

Putting his shades back on, he walked back to his table, scooped up his Filofax, and went inside the restaurant.

I started up the Jeep, shifted into first, and pulled away.

Just as I shifted into second, the sound hit- a giant paper bag being popped. Then a swirling black plume spiraled up from behind the volcano tips, rising high above them, inking the perfect sky.

9

Spike's neck was bow-tight. He growled and sniffed the air and began to bark. The people on the dock pointed up at the explosion.

Robin's hand was clamped around my wrist.

"Navy maneuvers?" I said.

"At a nonfunctional base?"

I reversed the Jeep quickly. As I passed the Chop Suey Palace, Jacqui stepped out, still holding her dishtowel. Her curiosity and fear stayed in my head as I sped back to the airfield.

Harry Amalfi stood near his house, looking dazed. Studying the black smoke as if it bore a message.

We drove up right behind him and got out, but he didn't move. Shouts made all three of us pivot.

Skip Amalfi and the other shark carver were running toward us. The older man wore bathing trunks too long for his stocky legs.

Harry Amalfi said, "It's a good craft."

"Was," said Skip Amalfi's companion. His voice was soft, his eyes rainwater gray, very close-set.

Skip said, "Maybe he fucked up and flooded the engine or something, Dad."

Amalfi turned back to the sky. The smoke was thinning and curling.

The other man shaded his eyes and looked upward, too. "Looks like it might have gone down right over Stanton."

"Probably," said Skip. "Probably right on the fucking tarmac."

His father started to say something, then shuffled back toward his front porch.

"Want me to call over there?" said Skip. "See if it went down there?"

Amalfi didn't answer. Pulling a bandana out of his pocket, he wiped his face and kept trudging.

"Shit deal," said Skip's companion. The gray eyes washed over Robin, then checked to see if I was watching. I was. He nodded.

"Major shit," said Skip.

"He probably did flood it."

Skip turned to us. "Dumb fuck said he knew how to fly. Did he?"

"Just met him yesterday," I said.

He shook his head disgustedly.

"Probably got it up there and flooded it first thing," said the gray-eyed man, pushing his hand through wild, curly hair.

"His poor wife," said Robin. "She didn't want to go."

"Asshole said he knew what he was doing," said Skip. "You guys come back here for something?"

We returned to the Jeep and I drove toward the bamboo thatch. Just as I was about to turn onto the dirt path, Jo Picker came running out, hatless, her big purse flopping against her thigh.

Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide and blank. She kept coming toward us and I jammed the brakes. Slapping her hands on the Jeep's hood, she stared at us through the windshield.

Robin jumped out and embraced her. Spike wanted to jump out but I restrained him. He hadn't relaxed since the explosion.

All that remained in the sky were gray wisps.

Jo said, "No, oh God, no!" She struggled away from Robin and I saw her mouth contort.

Off in the distance, Skip and the gray-eyed man watched.

We finally got her in the Jeep and drove home. She cried softly till we got through the big, open gates and close to the house. Then: "We had a- I was planning to go but I got scared!"

Ben was already outside, KiKo on his shoulder, along with Gladys and a crew of men in work clothes. This close, I could still see hints of smoke. The noise would have been louder up here.

Jo had stopped crying and looked stunned. Robin helped ease her out of the Jeep, and she and Gladys walked her into the house.

Ben said, "So it was him. I wasn't sure. He couldn't have been up long."

"Not long at all."

"Did you see the plane?"

"We saw a bunch of them when we dropped him off."

"Junk," he said. "Whole thing was stupid. No point."

"Amalfi's son said he might have come down on the base."

"Or darn close to it. Forget about retrieving the body."

He turned to the house. "Why didn't she go up with him? Cold feet?"

I nodded.

"Well, she was the smart one," he said. "You try to tell people… Dr. Bill talked to Picker this morning. Picker just got rude."

"Does Dr. Bill know yet?" said Robin.

He nodded. "I called him at the clinic. He's on his way up."

"My first thought was some sort of military maneuver," I said. "Does the Navy ever shoot anything in the air?"

"The only things that fly in and out of there are big transports. If one of those went down, you'd think the volcano had erupted."

A white subcompact came barreling through the gates and stopped short, scattering gravel. POLICE was stenciled in blue on the door. Pam Moreland was in the front passenger seat. A man was driving.

They both got out. Pam looked frightened. The man was good-looking, in his late twenties and huge- six four, two fifty, with nose-tackle shoulders and enormous hands. His skin was bronze with islander features, but his hair was light brown and his eyes pale hazel.