John playfully arched a left fist as if throwing a punch and Frank pushed the door closed between them, laughing as he walked to the curb where he had parked his pickup truck. The streets were now full of local teen-agers in their hot rods with gambling engines. They were a rowdy and fun loving bunch who took over the beach after the tourists went back to their hotels. Horseback mounted police trod up and down the street, keeping a watchful eye on things. Some rode mountain bikes to slip through the crowds with ease.

John locked his office door and lowered the blinds. He checked and rechecked to make sure the answering machine was on. There have been times when the thing sat for two or three days without being turned on. He would never let that happen again. First rule of owning a business: turn the answering machine on.

On his way out, John fought the urge to reexamine the bullet holes. A flashback of the wild afternoon suddenly filled his thoughts and he just wanted to be home. As he walked to his jeep he couldn't help but wonder if anyone was watching from the hotel two doors down.

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