Dead in Vineyard Sand by Philip R. Craig

from the mainland were loaded with workers who commuted every day, and the time seemed not too far away when middle-income people such as cops, nurses, teachers, social workers, and small business owners would be joining them.
    I was so ignorant of economics that I had no idea what the future would bring; whether or not we needed another golf course, whether or not the mansionizing of the island was the beginning of its end, or whether or not we should limit the number of automobiles and all become members of the late Captain Spandex’s Bicycle Squadron.
    I knew I was lucky to own a house. I needed money, but I didn’t need much, and I worked a half dozen jobs to get it: house-sitting, fishing and shellfishing, and taking the occasional odd bit of work that somebody always needs done: a little carpentry, a window repair, cleaning a yard and hauling the waste to the dump.
    Of course no one is self-sufficient. We all need other people, such as the producers of gasoline and electricity, and I needed the writers of books and the guys who made Sam Adams beer, wine, and the makings for martinis. And I needed Zee most of all.
    â€œWhat kind of a guy is Jasper when he’s not playing golf?” I asked.
    Glen shrugged. “Nobody who’s made it up the ladder got there without stepping on some fingers. Jasper’s no exception. He can be pretty tough, I guess. Personally, I never came up against him. We see eye to eye on Pin Oaks and we have a good time out on the course. He knows how to have fun, and I like that in a man.”
    So did I. Glen’s good humor was what made him attractive to me. I don’t hang around with sour people. Life is too short.
    â€œGabe seems the quiet type.”
    â€œYeah, he is. I met him in Florida a couple winters ago. He and Jasper seem joined at the hip. Knows how to hit the ball when he has to, that’s for sure.”
    â€œWhat’s his job with the firm?”
    Glen shook his head. “Don’t know exactly. We never talk business when we’re playing. Gabe’s got a cool head on him. Hell, he wasn’t flapped this morning when old Jasper and I were freaking out. You like to have a man like that in your company.”
    â€œHe’s steady, all right.” I remembered Gabe’s wandering eyes and the way he never seemed to get far from Jasper. And I thought about the rifle in the golf bag, and wondered if it was unusual for a business tycoon to need a bodyguard everywhere he went, even when he played golf.
    Then I thought of President Joe Callahan’s vacations on the island when he’d been in office; everywhere he went, bodyguards and medics had traveled with him; and I thought of how celebrities needed guards to protect them from both fans and killers and how gangsters never walked alone, and I thought that the rich and powerful have probably always needed protection from their enemies.
    If fame, wealth, and power created the need, I could safely spend my bodyguard budget on something else. Beer seemed a good alternative.
    Zee and the children were getting ready for lunch when Glen dropped me off at my house.
    â€œWell, well,” said Zee, giving me a kiss. “That must have been a pretty brisk round.” She sniffed my shirt. “You didn’t even break a sweat. What a manly chap youare.” She gave me a squeeze. “You’re allowed at the table without showering first.”
    As we were all eating smoked bluefish salad sandwiches, Joshua said, “Pa, me and Diana have an idea.”
    â€œDiana and I have an idea.”
    â€œDiana and I have an idea.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    Diana said, “Now that we’re out of school, we have lots of time for the idea.”
    â€œYes, you have lots more time now. What’s the idea?”
    Joshua said, “We think it would be neat to have a vine bridge like Tarzan and Jane and Boy have in Tarzan and the Leopard Woman. We think it could go between