"Deal?" Possum scratched his head, and Popeye licked his bare foot, voicing her approval. "What you saying? I make a deal with Trooper Truth?"

Popeye jumped back up in Possum's lap and licked his face with enthusiasm. Possum blew out a loud, tense sigh and began to type, just in time, because Andy was about to give up on getting a response.

Dear Trooper Truth,

I swear you can trust me. But my problem is, is I gonna get in trouble if I help you out? See, I'm sort of trapped by Smoke and the road dogs and if I set them up and even if it works, I'm afraid I'm gonna end up in jail.

See, it was me who shot Moses Custer in the foot, knocking his boot off, 'cause I had no choice or I would have been hurt bad. by Smoke and maybe shot, too. And Smoke always be saying he gonna hurt Popeye if I don't do what he say.

I don't know what to do.

Andy read the e-mail and realized for the first time that the son of a bitch Smoke was behind Popeye's dog-napping. Andy knew that Smoke was not to be taken lightly. Andy also realized with relief that he was in a perfect position to make an honest bargain with whoever this anonymous road dog was, so he fired back an e-mail to him.

Dear Anonymous,

The bullet you say you fired at Moses missed. He was in the hospital because the road dogs beat and cut him up so badly. Did you beat on him, too? Or cut him?

Trooper Truth

Dear Trooper Truth,

No! All I did after trying to shoot him was help dump the punkins in the river. As for the cutting, that was Unique. I sure is glad that bullet missed! Maybe now I can forgive myself and Hoss won't be mad at me no more.

Andy was unclear about the Hoss reference and didn't understand what Anonymous meant by the cutting's being Unique, but he decided to take a risk.

Dear Anonymous,

Surely you must know that Hoss would want the road dogs caught so nobody else, including Popeye, is in harm's way. I doubt very much that Hoss has been mad at you, because he would know that bullet missed Moses. Hoss knows everything. He's possibly been disappointed in you for not turning in Smoke and the road dogs. Now is the time to make things right, and a place to start is to tell me how I can find Smoke and the other pirates without them figuring anything out. By doing so, you will be granted immunity in exchange for your assisting the police. And I think you know by now that I always tell the truth.

Trooper Truth A reply landed in the mailbox moments later.

Dear Trooper Truth,

Go to the race and look for a pit crew with a Jolly Goodwrench flag. That's us pirates. I'll have Popeye and do my best to stay out of the way, but you should know that Cat been taking helichopper lessons from the state police and plans to fly all of us to Tangerine Island after Smoke kills a lot of people.

"Jesus, " Andy muttered as he stared at the message. There was only one state policeperson he could think of who might be giving anyone flying lessons right now, since the state police were so critically short of pilots at the moment. "Macovich. You stupid son of a bitch!" Andy said out loud. "What the hell are you doing?"

Macovich wasn't a saint, but he wasn't terribly bright, either, and Andy tried to work through Macovich's motivation. He dug through his briefcase until he found the paperwork on the Bag Man case he had worked last year. He dialed Hooter Shock's home phone number.

After much clunking and groping and coming to, Hooter groggily answered, "Hello?"

She assumed it was Macovich, who had been calling her a lot and stopping at her tollbooth, even when he didn't need to. That man was sex-addicted, she angrily thought. She had never seen anything like it. Most men she dated for the first time gave her at least an hour or two to figure out whether she might be remotely interested in holding hands or digging tongues halfway down each other's throats. But Macovich had kept grabbing at her under the table when they were drinking in that booth at Freckles. It was a shame, really. Hooter had liked him a fair amount when they'd chatted out by the traffic cones.

"I told you to quit calling me!" Hooter snapped over the line before Andy had a chance to say a word.

"I haven't called you recently, " Andy replied. "Let me guess, you think this is Trooper Macovich. "

"Well, you don't sound like him, " Hooter said, calming down.

"This is Trooper Truth, " Andy boldly said.

"Naw… You pulling my leg, " Hooter replied with suspicion. She didn't recognize Andy's voice because

most white folk sounded the same to her. "Ain't no way Trooper Truth be calling me. "

"Well, I am, " Andy said with confidence. "And the reason is because I need your help. It has come to my attention that you had drinks with Macovich at Freckles the other night. "

"Yeah. That was the night from hell, I tell you. "

"Did he take the check?"

"I didn't see no check, " Hooter replied. " 'Cause I left to get me some air in the alleyway, then this crazy man started trying to shoot his privates off… "

"Yes, I'm aware of that, " Andy politely interrupted her. "But I'm wondering if you ever saw Macovich pull out his wallet?"

"Uh huh. He paid for each round, 'cause we was the only Afric-Americans in there, and I'm assuming they didn't trust us enough to start a tab. "

"I sincerely doubt that was the case, " Andy reassured her. "The people in Freckles aren't like that, and it's easy to assume the worst if you've ever been treated unfairly. Maybe Macovich didn't ask for them to run a tab because he likes to flash his money, especially if he was trying to impress you. "

There was a pause on the line as Hooter pondered this.

"Well, " she finally conceded, "I guess you must be right, 'cause he sure was flashing his money, which I didn't like a bit 'cause money's just full of germs and he knew how I felt about it and then kept trying to grab at my legs under the table when we was drinking in the booth. But now that I think of it, I don't remember his asking for a tab, so maybe you right and I was jumping to 'clusions. You know; I got people at the tollbooth who never say 'Thank you' or 'Have a nice day, ' even after I say it first. And I just always assumed it's 'cause of my non-white status. "

"Many people are simply rude and consumed with themselves, " Andy pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess that's so, " Hooter said. She had softened considerably and seemed wide awake now. "But he did have money he was flashing around, " she added, returning to the subject of Macovich. "Now you gotta understand there was a lot of smoke in there, but he was flashing away and I caught a lot of twenties and at one point, what I could swear was a hundred-dollar bill, which I never seen in the Exact Change lane and ain't never had in my entire life. "

So Macovich was giving Cat helicopter lessons and possibly being paid a hundred dollars in cash for each one. Macovich was probably doing this at night or off hours when he knew no one else would be at the state police hangar. Andy walked into the kitchen to check the time. It was a little past 1: 00 A. M. He dressed in civilian clothes, took his gun and portable radio, and went out to his car.

It was just as he'd suspected when he arrived at the airport. The Bell 430 was not inside the hangar, and there were what appeared to be fresh Salem Light cigarette butts all over the tarmac, even near the fuel truck. Andy switched his radio over to the state police aviation frequency.

"Four-three-zero-Sierra-Papa, " Andy said over the air.

Macovich was startled and unnerved when Andy's voice tilled his headset, as Cat, dressed in NASCAR colors, tried to fly the helicopter level and steady in a pattern around the nearby Chesterfield airport.

"Thirty-Sierra-Papa, " Macovich replied, trying to sound innocent and busy.

"Who's calling us?" Cat demanded to know.