Free Lost Man's River by Peter Matthiessen Page B

real estate law. He was well-informed about inholding cases and had excellent contacts, state and federal, which might prove useful. For the moment, all he required from the family was power of attorney, in order to file for a court injunction against any attempt by the Park to burn the house before the status of the claim could be ascertained.
    All right, said Lucius. But should the decision be left to him, he would gladly waive all claim to an inholding if the Park would simply restore the house and take good care of it—make it a historic monument, perhaps, to pioneer days in southwest Florida, the home of the pioneer cane planter E. J. Watson.
    He awaited a comment, which was not forthcoming. Watson Dyer sighed, then proceeded to observe that this proposal would be stronger once the claim was validated, since an offer of waiver before the claim had been reinstituted could only undermine its legal standing. Lucius was not certain he had grasped just what was meant, but he promised Dyer he would do his best to enlist the support of the surviving heirs. Excited, he also assured him that any claim that would protect the house could count on strong support from the numerous local families which had occupied the house at various periods since Watson’s death. Those old Island pioneers knew the historical value of that house, he said, more and more enthusiastic, and many others were bound to speak up, too! He could go talk with them!
    â€œPerhaps even the Dyer family will speak up,” the lawyer said, forcing a strange hard snort of laughter.
    â€œYes. The Dyers, too,” Lucius said doubtfully. So far as he knew, Dyer’smother was dead, and Dyer and his sister Lucy were not speaking, and the father, Fred Dyer, had been estranged from his children for years.
    In Dyer’s professional opinion (he chose that phrase), the Watson Claim could not be vacated or summarily dismissed if Watson’s heirs lent their support to it in writing. Well, said Lucius, Rob was dead, and Carrie and Eddie would want no part of anything that might stir scandal from the past, and Addison, who was not yet four when his father was killed, had been given his new stepfather’s name the following year and might not even know he was a Watson. As for the two younger sisters—
    â€œLooks like it’s up to you, then,” Dyer said smoothly, bringing the call to a quick end. “You’ll be hearing from me.” By cutting off the conversation before anything substantive had been decided, he made Lucius feel restless and a bit disturbed. He could not get a feel for Dyer, nor could he imagine what the man might look like. Surely he looked nothing at all like his gentle sister. How odd that neither of them mentioned Lucy, who years ago had been his dearest friend.
Arbie
    Returning home that afternoon, Lucius was met on the dock by the molasses reek of a cheap stogie. In the tattered hammock on the houseboat deck, an old man in red baseball cap and an Army-surplus overcoat lay sifting pages, the bent cigar a-glower between his teeth. In the corner lay a dog-eared satchel. Before Lucius could speak, the old man removed the cigar and spat bits of cheap tobacco leaf, the better to recite from his host’s manuscript notes on Leslie Cox.
    â€œÂ â€˜â€¦ an old man known by some other name may still squint in the sun, and sniff, and revile his fate.’ Same way
I
write! Not bad at all!” He rested Lucius’s papers on his belly. “Arbie Collins is the name,” he said, pointing his finger at Lucius’s eyes by way of renouncing that old drunk at Gator Hook and presenting a new, respectable identity. “Yep,” he said. “I had this idea about Cox before you even thought about it. Folks said Cox had been seen down at Key West, and another time right in the river park there at Fort Myers. Then I heard from this Injun friend of mine who used to be a drunk up around