Sick Puppy

"It's truly one of a kind."

Lisa June said nothing; surely there was a story behind the vest, and just as surely she didn't want to hear it. She knelt to scratch McGui

"An OK dog," Skink conceded, "but definitely not the brightest bulb in the chandelier."

Lisa June took the former governor's arm. "Come on. He's waiting for you."

"Oh, I'm tingling with excitement."

"Don't start," Jim Tile said. "You promised."

Skink told Lisa June: "Hon, don't mind Jim. He's just pissed because I lost his cell phone."

She led them to the dining room. Lunch was hearts-of-palm salad, conch chowder, medallions of venison and Key lime pie.

"An all-Florida menu," Lisa June a

Skink parked himself at the head of the long table. The trooper said, without irony, "That's the governor's place, Governor."

"Yes, Jim, I remember."

"Don't do this."

"Do what?"

Lisa June said, "It's fine, Lieutenant. Governor Artemus has been fully briefed."

"With all due respect, I seriously doubt that."

Through a side door burst Dick Artemus; dapper, energized and primed to charm. His face was fresh-scrubbed and ruddy, his hair lustrous and ardently brushed, his green eyes clear and twinkling. When Clinton Tyree stood up, the governor bear-hugged him as if he were a long-lost twin.

"The one and only! I can't believe you're here!" Dick Artemus looked positively misty.

Dropping to one knee, he fondly grabbed McGui

Skink glanced skeptically at Jim Tile.

"This is quite an honor," Dick Artemus said, rising.

"Why?" Skink asked.

"Because you're a legend, Governor."

"I'm a goddamned footnote in a history book. That's all."

"How about a glass of orange juice?" Lisa June Peterson suggested.

"Thanks. Heavy on the pulp," Skink said.

Dick Artemus exclaimed: "Me, too! The best OJ is the kind you gotta chew. What're those little beauties tied to the ends of your beard – may I ask?"

"Buzzard beaks."

"Ah! I was go

In unison, Jim Tile and Lisa June Peterson declined a beverage.

"So, tell me," Dick Artemus burbled to Skink, "how's the old place look? Seven hundred North Adams Street."

"About the same."

"Bring back memories?"

"More like hives."

The governor was undaunted. "Was the gym built when you were here? Would you like a tour?"

Skink looked at Lisa June. "Is he for real?" He threw back his head and cackled. "A tour!"

Lunch was more small talk; Dick Artemus was the world champion of small talkers. Lt. Jim Tile was strung drum-tight, and he finished his meal as rapidly as decent ma

But Dick Artemus wasn't worried, for he believed he was the most irresistible sonofabitch in the whole world. He believed he could make anyonelike him. And he had been flattered to learn that the legendary Clinton Tyree wanted to meet him.

"Tell me about your eye," he chirped.

"If you tell me about your hair."

Lisa June, helpfully: "Governor Tyree lost the eye many years ago, during a violent robbery."

"Actually, it was more of an old-fashioned assault," Skink said, inhaling a frothy sliver of pie. "I go through glass eyeballs like underwear. A friend of mine found this one in Belgrade." He tapped the crimson iris with a tine of his silver dessert fork. "Said she got it off a Gypsy king, and I choose to believe her. She had quite a circus background."

The governor nodded as if this were conversation he heard every day. His attention was broken by something poking him between his legs – the Labrador, lobbying for a handout. Dick Artemus genially slipped the dog a chunk of corn bread.

"Let's talk turkey," he said. "First, I want to thank you, Governor, for finding this troubled young man."

"Unfortunately, someone else found him first."

"Yes. Lieutenant Tile notified me as soon as he heard. He also told me how you risked your life to get the kid out alive."

"A promise is a promise." Skink put down the fork with a sharp clink. "I kept mine."

"Yes. You sure did." The governor shifted uneasily, then pretended it was because of the dog nosing him beneath the table. Lisa June Peterson knew better. So did Jim Tile.

Skink said, "You said you're going to get the boy some counseling."

"That's right."

"Where?"

"Uh ... well, wherever he wants," Dick Artemus fumbled. "How's he doing, by the way? How bad was he hit?"

"He'll make it. He's tough," Skink said. "Why're all those cops outside his hospital room?"

"For his own protection," the governor replied matter-of-factly. "Somebody tried to kill him, remember?"

"So he's not under arrest?"

"Not to my knowledge. Mr. Stoat isn't interested in prosecuting. He says the publicity of a trial would be unwelcome, and I couldn't agree more."

"All right." Skink, planting his elbows on the table. "Now, what about my brother?"

"Yes?" The governor snuck an anxious glance at Lisa June Peterson.

"Doyle," she said.

"Right. Doyle Tyree!" Dick Artemus, awash with relief. "The lighthouse keeper. Certainly he can stay there as long as he wants. Hillsborough Inlet, right?"

"Peregrine Bay." Again Skink turned to Lisa June Peterson. "Would you and Jim mind if I spoke to the governor in private?"

Lisa June tried to object and Jim Tile weighed in with a grave sigh, but Dick Artemus brushed them off. "Of course they don't mind. Lisa June, why don't you take this puppy out back and introduce him to some of our magnificent old Leon County pine trees." Dick Artemus had a speech to give in thirty minutes, and he didn't wish to be seen with dog snot on his inseam.

Once they were alone, the former governor said to the present governor: "What about that island?"

"It'll be real nice when they're done."

"It's real nice now," Skink said. "Ever been there?"

Dick Artemus said he hadn't. "Look, you remember how this stuff works." He drained his glass down to the ice cubes, chasing the last of the vodka. "The guy wrote some major checks to my campaign. In return, he expects a little consideration. Slack, if you want to call it that. And I've gotta say, he's done most everything by the book with this Shearwater thing. The zoning, the permits, the wildlife surveys – it all looks kosher. That's what my people say."

"You oughta at least see the place before you let 'em wreck it."

"Governor, I appreciate how you feel."

"You don't appreciate shit."

"What're you doing? Hey, let go!"

The bulldozer dream kept reru