Patricia Cornwell - Isle of Dogs

"That's fine," Andy assured him. "I think there's a serious case of dental fraud going on down there, but I'll take care of it myself."

Andy had not ended up crab bait, nor had he been foolish enough to return to the island in the same helicopter that clearly was marked STATE POLICE. He had been shrewd enough to get a buddy of his at the local charter service to let him use an unmarked Long Ranger…

"Andy!" Hammer stopped pacing and stared accusingly at him. "Are you with us, or did you already leave without letting me know?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was just thinking about the Islanders and how their true feelings about us come out when we aren't buying seafood or souvenirs. They were actually throwing rocks at the helicopter as we flew off."

"How awful!" Windy said with overblown emotion. "You could have been killed. I mean, throwing rocks at a helicopter is a little more serious than sticks and bones will shake like stones but words will never hear me, now isn't it?" She certainly wished Andy were older and would ask her out one of these days. "I don't ever want to visit an island where they throw rocks and talk inside out."

"I see you read Trooper Truth this morning," Hammer wryly commented as Andy feigned ignorance.

"Wouldn't miss him for all the eggs in China," Windy gushed. "I sure do wish he'd put a picture of himself on his website. I'm just dying to know what he looks like."

"He probably looks like a nerd." Andy pretended to be critical and jealous of Trooper Truth. "You know how most of these computer jockeys are. And I'm getting sick of hearing Trooper Truth this and Trooper Truth that. You'd think he's Elvis."

"Well, I don't think he's Elvis. And I no longer believe he's the governor using a ghost name, either," Windy announced. "Not after what I read this morning. If the governor was Trooper Truth, then he wouldn't criticize the governor, because that would be the same thing as criticizing himself and…"

"What else do we know about the kidnapped dentist?" Hammer interrupted as she started pacing the carpet again and wished she could tie Windy's tongue in a knot.

"He was born in Reedville and has been volunteering out there on Tangier Island for more than ten years, although he doesn't like to admit it to anyone, so the police said his wife said," Windy answered. "Because it wouldn't help his practice back home if patients knew he got most of his experience from working on Tangieri-ans. But at least he understands how they talk and he thinks like one."

"How do you know what he understands or thinks?" Hammer was quite opposed to assumptions and found herself surrounded by them constantly.

"You know what they say about birds in a pod," Windy reminded her. ''Everybody on that island thinks alike, and he'd have to think like them to work on their teeth. The Reedville police also mentioned that this Dr. Fox doesn't have an address, only a P.O. box, and his wife claims there are no photos of him because he hates to have his picture taken. Also," she gusted through the information, "he doesn't have his social security number on his driver's license or anything else, and all of his phones are answered by machines, and when he takes family vacations to exotic places, he never tells anybody where he's going."

"I think we need to run a few checks on him," Andy suggested, as if the idea had never occurred to him before this minute. "Sounds to me like he's hiding something. What about his lifestyle? Money?"

"Gobs of it," Windy said. "The police told me he has this big, huge house and all these cars and private schools."

"How do the police know what his house looks like if they can't find an address for him?" Andy inquired.

"Oh, Reedville's a small place and everybody knows where everybody else lives. Besides, a huge house like his right on the water sticks out like a sore nose on your face."

"I did think it more than a little suspicious when he said the Islanders were demanding fifty thousand dollars cash, which was to be sent to a Reedville P.O. box." Hammer continued to pace. "He also said that they were demanding all restrictions lifted."

"I see," Andy said. "So they're trying to extort our lifting the freeze on crab licenses."

Hammer absently snatched memos off her desk and glanced through them, hopeful that the governor might finally have returned one of her phone calls. But no. There was not a single message indicating he had tried to reach her or even knew she had been trying to talk to him for months.

"And I'm sure they expect us to remove the speed traps and prevent NASCAR from coming. They think we're going to turn the island into a racetrack," Andy informed Hammer.

"So I understand. How the hell can they think such a thing?" Hammer's voice rose. "The island couldn't possibly hold a hundred and fifty thousand fans. There would be no place to put the cars and no way to get them or the drivers or pit crews on and off the island. Not to mention, no beer or cigarette sponsors want their stock cars and people like Dale Earnhardt, Jr., and Rusty Wallace on a track where alcohol and tobacco are considered sins. And Tangier's barely above sea level, meaning the track would flood. Why the hell did you tell them NASCAR is coming, Andy?"

"I didn't. I was explaining VASCAR, not NASCAR, and this island woman got the names mixed up, just like a lot of people are doing."

"Well, I'm quite sure they'll demand we get rid of the crab sanctuary, too." She continued obsessing about the governor and his avoidance of her. "They've not forgiven us and never will for deciding most of the Chesapeake Bay is off limits to watermen." One part of her talked on while another part of her got angrier with the governor. She had no doubt that were she younger or a male, the governor would be calling her constantly. "We'll have to give the sanctuary back or unsanction it or whatever the legal process might be."

"Superintendent Hammer?" Windy seeped back into the discussion like an unpleasant draft. "I tried the governor's office first thing when I got in and he's in meetings again and not talking to anybody at all."

"Bullshit," Hammer said, eyeing the small, brown paper-covered package Windy was holding. "Is that for me, and who is it from?"

"Yes. The return address is Major Trader. Would you like me to open it?"

"Has it been x-rayed?" Hammer asked.

"Yes, yes. You know us, we never judge a box by its cover." Windy ripped off the paper. "Oh look! Homemade chocolates with a note that says…" She held up a small card and read, "Best wishes, Governor Crimm."

"That's strange," Andy commented, knowing all too well that Crimm never gave Hammer the time of day, much less presents. "I think I'd better take these."

"What for?" Hammer asked, perplexed.

"Because it's damn suspicious and I intend to look into it," Andy said.

"Now Windy," Hammer decided, "that will be enough for now." She motioned for her secretary to leave and not say another word. "Call the governor's office and see if you can get him on the damn phone."

Windy looked disappointed and unhappy at being banished, and she sure did wish her boss's poor little dog hadn't disappeared. Hammer was hardly ever in a good mood anymore. Andy gave Windy a little wink to cheer her up as she left.

"The Islanders don't care about the sanctuary," Andy said as he tucked the chocolates into his briefcase. "It wouldn't make sense for them to care about it because they don't fish in those parts of the bay."

Hammer actually knew very little about fishing or the laws pertaining to it. The fishing industry did not fall under the jurisdiction of the state police, but was the business of the Coast Guard unless fishermen committed serious crimes on roads or highways, which was exactly what had just happened when they marched down Janders Road and kidnapped the dentist and threatened treason. She tuned out the part of her that was fussing with the governor.