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that he’s dead. But I’m pretty sure the VA will see to an honorable burial. Alfie was a soldier in good standing when he left the service. I’ll take care of it.”
    “I’d appreciate it. And let me know if you hear anything at all about the murder,” I said. “Tell Sullivan, but tell me, too.”
    “Sure, Sam,” said Jimmy. “We want to get the bastards as much as you.”
    “That’s what I keep hearing,” I said.
    It’s not that they didn’t. It was just human nature to quickly forget about a tragedy soon after it happens. The impulse was to turn away and allow the needs of the present to provide cover for natural apathy and indifference.
    I had the opposite problem.

C HAPTER F OUR
    I spent the next two days spreading the word around any of the joints, job sites, and social gatherings that could spread the word further. I had a simple message: know anything about Alfie’s murder, tell me and tell the cops.
    In two days, certain segments of Southampton society would be fully canvassed: the regular locals, the Latinos, documented and otherwise, and the people from Up Island who drove in and out every day to work.
    Other segments would be oblivious. The professionals—doctors, lawyers, stockbrokers, retailers from the city—jewelers, antique dealers, art dealers. And the rich they served. I had a different strategy for getting to them.
    “Did you ever have sex with that reporter from the Times who did a story on you?” I asked Jackie, when she answered her phone.
    “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”
    “So he might still be interested.”
    “You’re suggesting if I had slept with him, he’d have lost interest in me?”
    “We need him to write about Alfie Aldergreen,” I said.
    “It’s possible a reporter could be interested in a story I brought him for reasons other than a chance at sexual favors,” she said.
    “Hey, how you do it is up to you. I just think it would serve the cause if something showed up in the Times .”
    “You can be such a jackass.”
    “But not all the time.”
    “Unbelievable,” she said, and hung up on me.
    I USED up the rest of the day in my basement shop putting the final touches on Frank’s built-in unit and drawing up a detailed plan for the next round—a hemispherical china cabinet.
    “Why do they want that?” I’d asked Frank. “Cost a fortune and adds a lot of wasted space.”
    “They have a fortune and ten thousand square feet to store the other dishes.”
    “I guess if it was rectangular, anyone could do it,” I said.
    “You’re the custom woodworker, Sam. Can’t get any more custom than a hemispherical china cabinet.”
    “Don’t suppose you know how to do all those curves.”
    “If I did, I wouldn’t need you,” he said.
    “Good point. Logical, even.”
    “I’m a regular fucking Aristotle, man. You know that.”
    Luckily, I had a secret weapon. My girlfriend, Amanda, a builder herself with a knack for sourcing exotic building materials. She claimed it was all on the Internet, but I knew it was her clever, clever ways.
    As a result, I had a stack of catalogs on my drawing table from manufacturers who made products designed specifically for making things like curved cabinets. The choices were astonishingly extensive, as if the whole world needed curvy cabinetry. So what at first looked like an impossible mission was turning into a piece of cake. My biggest challenge would be to keep the myth of struggle and strife fresh in Frank’s mind.
    I WAS about to cash it in for the evening when the phone in my pocket vibrated. My Luddite ways aside, I’d given in to cell phones. While I wasn’t keen on people calling me whenever the hell they liked, I liked being able to call them.
    “We have a situation,” said Jackie.
    “Give me a headline.”
    “We’re being summoned. I need you to agree before you hear who’s doing the summoning.”
    “I’m not going to do that,” I said.
    “Yes, you are. I can’t go through all the