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then Howard Pile … I adored his
Robin Hood。 One day； when I was about sixteen； I discovered de Sade。 It was rather forbidden reading then and therefore exciting。 But beyond that； I was struck by much of his writing。 And then I had this fantasy that that was the reason my parents had named me Justine。 However； when I was older and asked my mother about it； she said； 〃Well； you know； it was just a name that your father and I liked。〃 It must have appealed to her Continental leanings； I imagine； she was French； you see。 But then； oh how I washed that I had never asked her！ My fantasy was so much better than the reality of it。 Well； what can you expect？ They were both banal。'
'Was your father American？'
She turned her face towards him and the warm glow from the living…room lamps burnished one cheek as if by an artist's brush。 'Very American。'
'What did he do？'
'Let's go inside；' she said； turning from him。 'I'm cold。'
First there was the large black and white photograph of a rather heavy…set man with a firm jaw and undaunted eyes。 Printed underneath was the legend： Stanley。 Teller； Chief of Police 1932…1964。 Next to that was a framed copy of Norman Rockwell's The Runway。
The office was a spare cubicle with double windows overlooking the courtyard parking lot。 There was not much to see out there； this time of the evening。
'Why don't you cut the doubletalk； Doc； and run it by me in plain English；' Lieutenant Ray Florum said。 'Just what's so special about this drowning？〃
The subdued crackle of the two…way radio down the hall was a constant background chatter； like being on the telephone with a crossed line。
'That's just what I've been trying to explain to you；〃 Doc Deerforth said slowly and patiently。 'This man did not die of drowning。〃
Ray Florum sat down in his wooden swivel chair。 It creaked beneath his weight。 Florum was a big man； both in height and girth； which made him the butt of a series of ongoing jokes batted about good…naturedly among his staff。 He was manding officer of the Village Police of West Bay Bridge。 He had a beery…cheeked face on which was positioned dead centre； as if it were the bull's…eye of some target； a bulbous red…veined nose。 His skin was tanned to the colour of cured leather； his salt…and…pepper hair was cut en brosse。 He wore a brown Dacron suit not because he liked it but because he had to。 He would just as soon have e to work in a flannel shirt and a pair of old slacks。 'What； then；' Florum said equally slowly； 'did he die from？'
'He was poisoned；' Doc Deerforth said。 'Doc；' Florum said as he wearily rubbed his hand over his face。 'I want this to be real clear； understand？ Crystal clear。 So perfectly clear that there won't be any possibility of a misunderstanding when I make out my report。 Because； beside the State Detectives who； I'm sure you're aware； I'm gonna have to copy on this … and when I do； they're gonna be down here like locusts on a wheat…field asking us to do all their goddamned field work and then sucking us dry … beside those sonsabitches； I've gotta contend with the county bastards who're most probably gonna claim that this thing's in their jurisdiction。 And； to top it all off； now that you tell me it's a murder； I'm gonna have Flower rumbling in from Hauppauge on his white horse wondering why our investigation is taking so long and when's he gonna be relieved of the stiff； his staff's so overworked。' Florum slammed the flat of his hand down on the cover of a copy of Crime in the United States； 1979。 'Well； this time they're just gonna have to wait long enough so that they're one great step behind me。'
A sergeant came in； handed Florum several typewritten sheets and went out without a word。
'Christ； it makes my blood boil sometimes。 I'm no goddamned politician。 That's what this job calls for。 Who the hell cares whether I know police procedure or not。 God！' But he got up； still； and came back with a file which he opened on his desk。 He ran a hand through his hair； scratched at his scalp。 He began to shift through a number of eight…by…ten black and white prints which； even upside down； Doc Deerforth recognized as shots of the drowned man。
'First of all；' Doc Deerforth said calmly。 'I've taken care of
Flower。 He won't bother you； at least for the time being。'
Florum looked up briefly； inquisitively； then his gaze returned to the photos。 'Yeah； how'd you work that little miracle？'
'I haven't told him yet。'
'You mean to say；' Florum said； as he reached out an oblong magnifying…glass from a desk drawer； 'that nobody knows about this 。。。 murder but us chickens right here in this room？〃
'That's precisely what I mean；〃 Doc Deerforth said quietly。
After a time； Florum said； 'You know； there's nothing shows up on these photos。' He shuffled the photos like a deck of cards until a close…up of the head and chest of the drowned man was on top。 'Nothing but a routine drowning。'
'You won't find anything there。'
'That's what I said。'
'Doesn't mean； though； that there isn't anything to see。'
Florum sat back in his chair and crossed his hands over his ample belly。 'Okay； Doc。 I'm all ears。 You tell me about it。'
'What it boils down to is this。 The man was dead before he even hit the water。' Doc Deerforth sighed。 'It was something that might have been overlooked by even as good an M。E。 as Flower。' Florum grunted but said nothing。 'Look； there is a small traumatic puncture wound in the man's chest； middle…left； and it could easily have been mistaken for a rock scrape …which it is not。 The puncture led me to take blood samples； one of which was from the aorta； where this type of poison concentrates； it's flushed from the rest of the bloodstream within perhaps twenty minutes of death； by what means I have no idea。 It's a highly unusual cardio…vascular poison。'
Florum snapped his fingers。 'Proof！ Heart attack。'
'Yes。'
'You sure about this？'
'About the poison； yes。 Otherwise you know I wouldn't have e to you。 But I've still got some more tests to run。 It appears likely that a sliver of whatever punctured the man's flesh is still lodged in his sternum。〃 'There's no exit wound？'
'No。'
'The fall could have dislodged it。 Or the sea …'
'Or it was pulled free after the man fell。'
'What you're saying； Doc。。。' He paused and； pushing aside the photos； consulted a filled…out preprinted form。 〃This guy； Barry Braughm； an account executive at' … here he named Sam Goldman's advertising agency in New York … 'lived at three…oh…one East Sixty…third； was murdered。 But in this way？ For what reason？ He was out here alone。 No jealous wife or boyfriend。。。〃 He laughed。 'He's got a sister in Queens whom we've already contacted and interviewed。 We checked on his house on Dune Road。 Nada。 No sign of it being broken into or even that anything was taken。 His car was where he had driven it up and parked it in front of the house as secure as Fort Knox。 There's nothing to …'
'There's this；' Doc Deerforth said； knowing that； at last； he had e to the moment he had been dreading ever since he had discovered the puncture wound and； subsequently； had pulled the blood from the drowned man's heart。 It isn't possible； he kept telling himself； all