glee he seemed to be deriving at having beat Stanhope this round. While behind him down in the water was a body.
“Here you go” came from behind him, and I sat up quick, saw making his way across the plank from the jon boat Major Tyler, holding out in front of him my book bag, and already I was up and around the wrought-iron table and jogging the few yards down the lawn toward him, and then I stood among them all, these Hanahan police and the deputy and Unc, and Tyler.
He was taller than I’d thought, maybe six four or five, and I could see his face now for Dupont’s back porch light: he was a little jowly, had heavy eyebrows and a thick neck. Football, was the first thing came to me. He’d had to play somewhere when he was in college.
He nodded, gave a smile that was all business, my bag held out in his hand like some kid’s toy for how big he was.
I took the book bag, slung it quick over a shoulder. I nodded, said,“Thank you,” and wondered for a second why I’d never heard from Unc any mention of an Alton Tyler with the DNR.
Here was Unc with a hand at my elbow, leading me off and back toward the patio. “Thank you so much, Alton,” he said over his shoulder, then, a little too loud and meant, I could hear, for nothing more than show, “This coffee’s sure gonna do me good.”
And off to our right, at the edge of the woods, stood Stanhope and Harmon. I looked straight at them, too, saw their eyes were right on me, their mouths thin lines.
Harmon, his hand still flat on the stock of his M4, looked right at the book bag, and back up to me. He nodded.
I set the bag on the table once we’d gotten to the porch, opened it, careful not to let Grange or Mrs. Q or Priscilla see inside. There lay the goggles, and that construction helmet, at the bottom the old thermos and the travel mugs, and I pulled one out and the thermos, poured off a full cup for Unc, set the bag at my feet.
Unc made a big show of sipping at it, all for those two sailors watching every move over there. He wouldn’t sit down, though Grange had stood up when we’d gotten here and offered his seat. I’d offered him mine, too, but he’d have none of it, while Mrs. Q sat beside us whispering loud “The idea, the idea.”
By this time Priscilla’d given up trying to monitor the old lady, and stood beside Grange, all of us facing the creek while here came more neighbors: first the Bennetts, then the Moores, the Michauxs, the Balls, the Legares. The usual suspects, all of them anchored to Landgrave Hall for as long as the place had been here, each with portraits aplenty of dead ancestors inside the hallowed halls of their cottages, each with their own dedicated tables at the clubhouse. I knew already the front of the Dupont house was clogged with the golf carts they’d all driven over here, all of them talking low to each other now, shaking their heads, arms crossed, now and again nodding toward us here at the table, watching.
Tyler took first the deputy out onto the plank and across our boatonto his, shone that Maglite down into the water, the two of them talking, the beam darting back and forth. Then the deputy left, the two Hanahan cops moving out next to have their own peep show.
A minute or so later the EMTs came bumping up amidst all the neighbors, a gurney pushed and pulled and lifted and prodded by a man and a woman in white shirts and dark pants and latex gloves already on. The two of them labored to get the gurney close as they could to the water, no way for the truck itself to back in here. On the gurney was stacked their equipment, what looked all the world like a pile of tackle boxes.
Another shuffle and twist of the neighbors, and here now were two men and a woman coming out into this all, the three of them in wet suits and with a black duffel bag each, scuba tanks on their backs. They headed right down to the water, stepped across the plank one at a time—the Hanahan cops’d come back on ground when the EMTs showed
“Here you go” came from behind him, and I sat up quick, saw making his way across the plank from the jon boat Major Tyler, holding out in front of him my book bag, and already I was up and around the wrought-iron table and jogging the few yards down the lawn toward him, and then I stood among them all, these Hanahan police and the deputy and Unc, and Tyler.
He was taller than I’d thought, maybe six four or five, and I could see his face now for Dupont’s back porch light: he was a little jowly, had heavy eyebrows and a thick neck. Football, was the first thing came to me. He’d had to play somewhere when he was in college.
He nodded, gave a smile that was all business, my bag held out in his hand like some kid’s toy for how big he was.
I took the book bag, slung it quick over a shoulder. I nodded, said,“Thank you,” and wondered for a second why I’d never heard from Unc any mention of an Alton Tyler with the DNR.
Here was Unc with a hand at my elbow, leading me off and back toward the patio. “Thank you so much, Alton,” he said over his shoulder, then, a little too loud and meant, I could hear, for nothing more than show, “This coffee’s sure gonna do me good.”
And off to our right, at the edge of the woods, stood Stanhope and Harmon. I looked straight at them, too, saw their eyes were right on me, their mouths thin lines.
Harmon, his hand still flat on the stock of his M4, looked right at the book bag, and back up to me. He nodded.
I set the bag on the table once we’d gotten to the porch, opened it, careful not to let Grange or Mrs. Q or Priscilla see inside. There lay the goggles, and that construction helmet, at the bottom the old thermos and the travel mugs, and I pulled one out and the thermos, poured off a full cup for Unc, set the bag at my feet.
Unc made a big show of sipping at it, all for those two sailors watching every move over there. He wouldn’t sit down, though Grange had stood up when we’d gotten here and offered his seat. I’d offered him mine, too, but he’d have none of it, while Mrs. Q sat beside us whispering loud “The idea, the idea.”
By this time Priscilla’d given up trying to monitor the old lady, and stood beside Grange, all of us facing the creek while here came more neighbors: first the Bennetts, then the Moores, the Michauxs, the Balls, the Legares. The usual suspects, all of them anchored to Landgrave Hall for as long as the place had been here, each with portraits aplenty of dead ancestors inside the hallowed halls of their cottages, each with their own dedicated tables at the clubhouse. I knew already the front of the Dupont house was clogged with the golf carts they’d all driven over here, all of them talking low to each other now, shaking their heads, arms crossed, now and again nodding toward us here at the table, watching.
Tyler took first the deputy out onto the plank and across our boatonto his, shone that Maglite down into the water, the two of them talking, the beam darting back and forth. Then the deputy left, the two Hanahan cops moving out next to have their own peep show.
A minute or so later the EMTs came bumping up amidst all the neighbors, a gurney pushed and pulled and lifted and prodded by a man and a woman in white shirts and dark pants and latex gloves already on. The two of them labored to get the gurney close as they could to the water, no way for the truck itself to back in here. On the gurney was stacked their equipment, what looked all the world like a pile of tackle boxes.
Another shuffle and twist of the neighbors, and here now were two men and a woman coming out into this all, the three of them in wet suits and with a black duffel bag each, scuba tanks on their backs. They headed right down to the water, stepped across the plank one at a time—the Hanahan cops’d come back on ground when the EMTs showed
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