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sand. Then he went through the pockets.
    He found a wallet, opened it, saw money, then stuffed the wallet into his rear pocket. The shoes were too small, but he saw a watch. He started to pull it off when the dead man’s hand grabbed Gundry’s arm in a dead man’s grip.
    Malcolm Gundry screamed, tried to jerk away, but the grip held. He pulled harder, but still the dead man held on. He kicked the corpse, but still it held on. Again he kicked, but to no avail. His weak heart started pumping more blood than it was used to. His head hurt and his arm, held in that devil grip, felt like it was being crushed. He was going to pass out. He was going to die. Then, all of a sudden, he was blinded by light as he felt a white hot stab of pain in the back of his neck. He jerked back, free. He screamed, grabbing the back of his neck, feeling the wetness of his own blood, but this time it was a scream of triumph. He ripped off the dead man’s watch, picked up the dead man’s knife, then shuffled off the beach in search of a drink as the wind picked up, blowing sand.
     
     
    * * *
    “ Let me get this straight,” Sheriff Sturgees said, “he attacked Judy and you ran him down?”
    “ Yes,” Rick Gordon said.
    “ Where’s the knife?”
    “ It was here.”
    “ Where did it go?”
    “ Someone took it.” Rick raised his collar against the wind. He was a head taller than the portly sheriff, but he didn’t let that distract him. Many people, to their everlasting regret, misjudged the sheriff, finding it hard to accept such a keen mind in his short, overweight body.
    “ Who?”
    “ How should I know?” Rick met his stare head on.
    “ Don’t get upset, I’m not accusing you of anything.”
    “ It was probably taken by the same man that turned the body.”
    “ Say again.”
    “ The body was on its back.”
    “ That’s right,” Judy said.
    “ He was laying on his back,” J.P. chimed in, “and he had a knife. A Jim Bowie knife.”
    “ How do you know it was a Bowie Knife?”
    “ Captain Wolfe has one. I know what they look like.”
    “ Wolfe Stewart,” the sheriff asked, “the captain of the all day fishing boat that runs between here and Palma?
    “ Yeah, the captain of the Seawolf,” Judy said.
    “ And Captain Wolfe has a Jim Bowie knife like the one I saw,” J.P. said. “He wears it in a knife holster tied to his leg.”
    “ It’s called a scabbard,” Judy said.
    “ All right,” the sheriff turned to Rick, “the man had a knife.”
    “ And he meant Judy harm,” Rick said.
    “ How do you know?”
    “ He would have cut me, Sheriff. I know it. He would have cut me and killed me. I was helpless. I couldn’t move.”
    “ He was gonna kill my mom.”
    “ J.P., get away from there!”
    “ I’m not gonna touch him, Mom.”
    “ Now J.P.!”
    J.P. moved away from the dead man.
    The sheriff bent over the corpse. “No wallet and he had a watch.”
    “ How can you tell?” Judy asked.
    “ Look for yourself.” He pointed to a white ring set off by a deep outdoor tan around the dead man’s left wrist.
    “ Wow, that’s police work, isn’t it?” J.P. said.
    “ Sheriff, can we go now?” Judy asked. “I’d rather J.P. didn’t have to see this.”
    “ He was a witness, but I guess we can do without him here. I’ll talk to you after I’m done. Why don’t you take your boy and wait up by the cars.”
    “ Thanks,” Judy said, overcoming J.P.’s objections.
    “ Okay,” the sheriff said, after they were out of earshot, “now let’s talk about the Jim Bowie knife that isn’t here.”
     
     
    * * *
    Two blocks away Mr. Jaspinder Singh was ringing up a pack of Marlboros when the customer asked him a question.
    “ Do you know Rick Gordon?” The man asked like a policeman.
    “ I am truly not knowing him.”
    “ About six feet, green eyes, maybe hazel. Brown, wavy hair, probably cut a little too long. Got a scar behind his left ear, here.” Storm touched the spot with a finger. “Wife named