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opponent. Lyon shut the patio door behind him, cutting off all but the slightest murmur of the argument. He swished the ice in his drink and drained half the glass.
    At the edge of the patio a small parapet ran the length of the rear of the house, and he stood, one foot on the edge, looking off toward the river.
    â€œYou’re a quiet one,” the voice behind him said.
    He turned to see Martha Herbert. “Hi. Not really, it’s just that I’m afraid that the politicians have taken over. Where’s the Chief?”
    â€œSulking and hiding. He saw all the politicians in there, turned white as a sheet and made a triple drink and then disappeared. He never knows when he could do himself some good. Go see him, Lyon. He should be in there socializing with those people.”
    â€œI’ll talk to him,” Lyon said, knowing that he would talk to Rocco, but that he certainly would not force the large man into the maelstrom now prevailing in the living room.
    â€œNow, he’s got this thing with my brother,” she said vehemently.
    Lyon turned toward her. Martha Herbert was a diminutive woman of barely five feet whose hair hung to her shoulders and who constantly wore demure white dresses, a little girlish idiosyncrasy that now seemed slightly ludicrous. Her head came to Rocco’s shoulder, and Lyon wondered how she and Rocco ever … and caught the half-formed erotic thought before it completely formed. “What’s this thing you’re talking about?”
    â€œHis feeling about the State Police. You know, I wanted him to go into the state when he got home from the service. My brother was already a sergeant. If we had all those state benefits now … and Rocco would probably be a captain by now too.”
    â€œHe’s talking about running for town clerk.”
    â€œThere’s no future in that. I mean, once you’re town clerk, you’re town clerk. There’s no chief town clerk or anything … we’d be at a dead end.”
    â€œYes,” Lyon said. “I suppose you would.” It bothered him that he didn’t care for Martha Herbert very much, and he wondered how many bickering arguments his large friend had endured, although he’d never mentioned them to Lyon. “If Rocco wants to be town clerk, it might make him happy.…”
    She tossed her hair in a contemptuous gesture. “Oh, he doesn’t know what he wants. All he can say is that he’s tired of giving out parking tickets, and now this business about those bodies.…” She grimaced.
    â€œCan I get you another drink?”
    â€œYes, thank you. Scotch and water.”
    Lyon closed the kitchen door quietly and blocked it with his back. At the sink Beatrice was pouring ginger ale into a highball glass. She continued pouring until the foaming liquid spilled over the lip of the glass and ran over the counter into a small puddle on the floor. He went up behind her and put his hands gently on her shoulders.
    She half-turned and smiled through the tears. “I blew it, Lyon. I really blew it and I don’t give a damn.”
    He kissed the back of her neck and she sniffed through the tears. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “If it hadn’t happened tonight it would have been some other time with that joker.”
    â€œI suppose so.”
    â€œBeatrice, there is one thing you must do.”
    She turned and threw her arms around his neck, “ I KNOW … about time to have my hearing tested.”
    â€œI made an appointment for you on Tuesday.”
    She kissed him and he pulled her closer. “I love you,” she said.
    â€œI have an idea,” he replied. “The barn; they won’t miss us.”
    â€œLater. I’ve got to get my face repaired and go back out there and fix that bastard.”
    â€œWork against him at the state convention. Back Ed Maddaloni; he’s a good man.”
    â€œMaddaloni, yes. YES