“The next one is ready, ma’am.”
The constable turned to see a man in her doorway. It was the same bald guy who had answered the door the first time the constable had visited the center. The odd feeling came over him again.
“Constable Roberts,” he said, rising with one hand outstretched.
“Ike Tressler,” the man said, reluctantly shaking it.
The constable walked down the beach afterward, which he rarely did. He had grown up at the coast and could tell you, you sure got used to it. He imagined the city landscape was the same for city kids.
He saw the roof of the hotel behind the ever-shifting dunes. In thefront office, he stomped the sand from his shoes, which was a futile gesture. Charlie looked up from where he was reading a car magazine.
“You back about that center?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah. How’d you know that?”
“Why else? Seemed like you had a bee in your bonnet before.”
The constable smiled at the quaint expression. The man was a mishmash of ineptitude, hard work, and a cheerfulness that approached bonhomie.
“Heard a rumor,” the constable said.
“What about?”
“Maybe someone saw a boy in the woods.” The constable didn’t want to explain more.
“I don’t go in the woods much myself. Not into hunting.”
“You like fishing?”
“Some. Don’t do it much.”
“Whatdoyou do for fun, Charlie?” he asked.
“Run this hotel. It’s a full-time job.”
“No offense, but you’re not exactly swimming with customers yet.”
“They’ll come.”
“You ever worry they might not?”
“Damn, Constable. Way to cheer a feller up. I make enough to get by.”
“The people who work at the center, you ever see them?”
“Nope.”
“What about a big bald fellow? Name of Ike Tressler.”
“Didn’t I just say I never see them?”
“All right.” The constable put his hands in his pockets.
“Hey, Constable, when you’re out and about, maybe think of suggesting this place to people? Like maybe if you go to one of them police officer conferences in the city. You could pass around some brochures.”
“You got brochures?”
“Naw, but I could make some.”
