"If that's the case, why did he bring his tent?"
"Maybe his girlfriend just arrived," Fred answered. "Anyway, he's nice and warm while I'm sitting here getting damp and cold." He rose. "I'm calling it a night as soon as I try telephoning Mrs. Porter back in Parkside. In spite of the time difference, she's a night owl."
Dean accompanied Fred as far as a bank of pay phones. "Say hello to Mrs. Lincoln," Dean called as he continued on to his campsite.
He took his time strolling down row after row of tents, pausing briefly to answer a young man's question about directions. Just as he reached his campsite, Fred hobbled up, out of breath, a paper in his hand.
"That guy Brunel called and left a number with Mrs. Porter!" he managed to gasp.
At first Dean didn't recognize the name but then remembered Fletcher Brunel as being the missing Norfolk employee of World Wide, one of the last people to speak with Jeffrey Byrne the day he disappeared.
The two men returned to the pay phones. Dean fished for pocket change but Fred waved him off. "I've got one of them phone cards," he said, taking the instrument and entering the requisite numbers, then handing the phone back to Dean. A man's voice answered on the second ring.
Dean introduced himself and apologized for the late hour. Brunel answered that he'd just received the message-he'd been "on the road," and only recently learned Jeffrey Byrne drowned. Brunel made the usual comments of "plucked from the prime of life" and "you never know."
"God, here I am running around the country and he's out there swimming with the fishes. Who'd have guessed?" Dean remained silent for a moment, and then asked how well he knew Jeffrey Byrne.
"Just from the job. He was an okay guy. Not like Mayer and half those whoozies."
"Looks like you were the last person to talk to him."
"No shit? That's kinda like...sobering, you know?" Again, Dean didn't interrupt and Brunel continued. "He didn't like have any final words of wisdom, if that's what you're wondering. We both had a few-especially me."
"Was there anything unusual about Byrne's demeanor the afternoon the two of you were together?"
"You mean like maybe he was despondent and killed himself?" Brunel asked.
Dean answered by insisting his questions were routine. "Just anything out of the ordinary. How much booze did he put away, for instance? Did he seem...distracted? Did he mention going for a swim?"
Brunel seemed to consider his answer. "The swim-bit is a hoot and a holler. I can't even picture Jeff doing something stupid like that. He had a couple of drinks-not as much as me-but he wasn't drunk. He was sort of on edge, now that I think about it, like something was distracting him. It kind of ticked me off-like I was an assignment he had to take care of, and our going out wasn't a social thing. I was all set to have a few more at the motel and a big dinner but he begged off-just dropped me at my place."