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standing on the bow, not looking at Ford, who was leaning against a piling, swatting at mosquitoes, having just asked who won. Nels stopped long enough to pack a pinch of snuff in his lower front lip, and said. "Karl Sutter won the eighty grand. Eighty frigging thousand dollars. Most fish, biggest fish. Out there all alone with his fat girlfriend," sliding the snuff tin into his shorts. Copenhagen.
    Captain Felix was on his boat in the adjoining slip, dipping out pinfish, putting them in a floating cage, talking to Nels and Ford both, saying, "Don't ask how he did it, man. Landed five fish. All that rain. All that wind. Like God was telling us that idiots shall inherit our chosen field of occupation." Felix, a big man, six five and wide, but reserved, was shaking his head as if amused with his own disgust.
    "In-frigging-credible."
    "There—that sums it up."
    Nels said, "We work our butts off, using all the tricks. Dalbert and Javier, the guys from Parrot Bight, land five tarpon between 'em. My anglers got two. Felix's got two. Most everybody got two—released them all. Even the amateur boats. Sutter hasn't landed two tarpon in his career, but he comes in with five dead ones strung up. Hanging off the bow. Strung from the fly bridge: a damn funeral parlor for tarpon. Man, I couldn't stay down there at Parrot Bight and watch it. Someone says, 'Hey, Sutter, you're breaking the game laws. Only allowed to keep two.' Sutter says, 'I got the tags.' We tell 'im, 'Hell, doesn't matter. Still only allowed to keep two.' He says, 'So you guys are going to be bad sports about this? That's childish.' "
    Felix said. "That's just what he said. 'Childish.' "
    Nels said, "Felix and me just said adios to our clients and left. They were pissed at us anyway, wasting so much time with Rios's corpse. Shoulda just let the crabs eat him. No tip, cither, and those people all had plenty of money." Ford asked. "Sutter killed all the fish?" He was surprised. Tarpon were a game fish, not a food fish. These days, even novice fishermen knew it was bad form to kill a tarpon.
    "Sure he did. But had tags for all of them, like he said. Fifty-buck tags from the state. Came in saying he was going to have 'em all mounted with the prize money. 'Nice profit,' he says. 'Cover my whole den.' The mounts will cost him maybe two grand, but that's not the reason he brought them in."
    Felix said, " 'Cause no one woulda believed he caught that many fish, that's why he killed them. He was out fishing so deep, he says, he couldn't reach any of the committee boats on the radio..."
    Nels said. "Right."
    "... but won't say where, like he's got a seeret fishing hole. The tournament party they wore supposed to have was canceled. Rios spoiled it. dying and all. And I just couldn't stand another minute of watching Sutter trying to act sad about his brother-in-law dying, but happy about winning all that money. Like watching a guy trying to rub his belly and load his pants at the same time." Felix was still smiling at himself. "Understand—it's not like we're bitter or anything. Doc."
    Ford said, "Of course not," smiling with him.
     
    Tomlinson was standing at the head of the dock near the marina office talking to MacKinley: MacKinley, thick, with short legs, looking up at the tall man with long hair.
    As Ford walked up, MacKinley was saying. "... so I reckon Jeth threatened to kick Marvin's butt right there. On the docks in front of all these people down there at Parrot Bight. Said I'll put your midget ass in the hospital. Clever, like that. Pretty quick, for Jeth. Of course, he was stuttering, and that just made it worse."
    Ford said, "Jeth, huh?"
    "You heard about the argument he had with Rios? I was just telling Tomlinson."
    Ford said. "A little."
    MacKinley said. "Yesterday afternoon. Jeth pulled into Parrot Bight with clients. They wanted lunch. I guess Rios yelled at him for tripping over a gas hose; spilled some gas. Something of that sort. You know how clumsy Jeth's been