Isle of Dogs (8 page)

 Andy could measure Hammer’s impatience by the rhythm of her fingers drumming her desk. This moment, she was tapping out a loud staccato on her ink blotter as Andy briefed her on Tangier Island and how the uprising was connected to the Tangiermen’s past, because he had no reason to know at this moment that his comments about dental malpractice had riled up the Islanders just as much as the speed trap had.

“Most of those people probably don’t even know their past and have never heard of John Smith,” Hammer countered from behind her desk, which afforded a fine view of the circular drive in front of headquarters and flags fluttering from tall poles.

“I wouldn’t underestimate them, and I’m just trying to give you a little background,” Andy replied, sweating beneath his uniform and dreading what Hammer was going to say about his latest Trooper Truth essay. “My point is, the Islanders are programmed to think people are picaroons out to steal their island from them and everything on it—very much the way the Native Americans felt when the English sailed to Jamestown and started building their fort.”

“Picaroons?” Hammer frowned.

“What the Islanders call pirates.”

“Oh God,” she groaned.

Windy Brees suddenly wafted into Hammer’s office with an excited look on her made-up face and a UPS package clutched in her bright red-painted fingernails.

“Holy heavens to Betsy!” Windy exclaimed. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

Hammer never liked it when her secretary made her guess. “Just tell me,” Hammer said with an edge of impatience.

“We’ve got more trouble than you can poke a snake at!” Windy breathlessly said. “Some dentist who works on those Tangierians is missing! He went to the island yesterday as usual, and his wife told the Reedville police that he never came back on the ferry, and when the clinic was called, some strange-talking boy said the dentist was being held hostage until the governor makes the island an independent state. Or something like that.”

“Yes, I am already aware of what’s happened. Apparently, the Islanders are holding him hostage in the medical clinic,” Hammer said.

“The clinic?” Andy said as a very bad feeling crept over him.

“So the dentist told me when they let him make a phone call,” Hammer explained. “But I don’t know his name. He said he couldn’t give it to me.”

“Sherman Fox,” Windy filled her in. “It’s a weird spelling.” She glanced at her notepad. “F-A-U-X.”

“It’s Faux,” Andy corrected her.

“It’s fo’? Fo’ what?” Windy puzzled.

“Never mind,” Hammer abruptly said. “Andy, did you happen to see this dentist when you were painting the speed trap yesterday?”

“No,” he replied, neglecting to mention that when he had returned to the island later, wearing a disguise, he hadn’t seen the dentist, either, but had probably been within twenty feet of him because one of the places Andy had visited was the medical clinic.

He needed to tell Hammer about his secret mission, but he thought it wise to wait until she was in a better mood.

“A large group of watermen were marching down Janders Road,” he added, “and I’m not surprised because the Islanders
have a long history of resentment and isolation. And as much as I admire Thomas Jefferson, he didn’t help matters by ordering all the Tangier boats snatched and supplies cut off during the American Revolution. Here he is saying this to his own people and treating Tangier like an enemy country, as if the island wasn’t part of the very Commonwealth he governed . . .”

“Well, I’m afraid Mister Jefferson isn’t available to help us out!” Hammer curtly cut him off as she rose from her chair.

“Maybe that’s best, based on how he handled the island last time,” observed Andy, who had barely escaped on the awaiting Bell 407 helicopter when the watermen chased him down Janders Road, across several footbridges and through countless wetlands, and finally onto the tiny airstrip, where Trooper Macovich was waiting in the helicopter and, thank God, had already started the engine.

“We’ve got to go back,” Andy told a frantic Macovich as he took off, skipped the hover, and sped away.

“You out of your damn crazy-ass mind?” Macovich’s voice sounded loudly in Andy’s headset as a rock pinged off a skid. “We ain’t going back! Those nutcakes are throwing things at us! Let’s just hope they don’t hit a rotor blade!”

They didn’t, because the 407 was very powerful and soon enough was well out of range.

“Well, the thing is, I didn’t finish,” Andy tried to explain as he watched the angry mob shrink to the size of ants.

“Man, you didn’t finish painting the speed trap? Shit. That’s just too bad,” Macovich said. “ ’Cause I ain’t going back there unless it’s to buy crabs for the guv. If you ain’t buying something, you’d better not go back, either, unless you want to end up crab bait.”

“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 Tangierians. 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.