greeted them, barking and wagging his tail. Hank came out of his office to see what Red was so excited about.
âHey thereâhowâre you doing?â Hank asked as Frank and Joe got out of the van.
âWe just played some hockey, so weâre feeling pretty good,â Joe said, still enjoying the win over Vinnie and John.
âSpeak for yourself, Joe. Iâm starting to feel pretty sore,â Frank said. He rubbed his side where John had rammed into him.
âHow about some hot cider?â Hank said. âCome inside.â
They went into Hankâs cluttered trailer and managed to pull three chairs up to Hankâs table.
âI canât believe you ever find anything in here,â Frank said as he moved an air filter off a chair.
âOh, I know where everything is,â Hank said. âUnless someone else comes in and moves something. Then Iâm in big trouble,â he added, with a chuckle.
Hank took a pot off a little electric hot plate and poured three cups of steaming cider. Frank and Joe wrapped their cold hands around the hot mugs.
âSo, what brings you here?â Hank asked as he sat back in his chair.
âWe had a run-in with someone on the lake last night after you left,â Frank said.
âThey locked us in one of the shanties,â Joe added.
âWhoever it was must have been expecting us. The shanty was all sealed up,â Frank said.
âWhose shanty was it?â Hank asked.
âPaul Rizzoâs,â Frank said.
âThereâs no way that Rizzo is involved,â Hank said without a hint of hesitation. âLittle guy, maybe seventy-five years old. He used to run the diner out near the highway with his brother. He comes to the lake only on weekends now,â Hank said.
âRizzo didnât know about any of this, Iâll bet,â Joe said.
âThatâs right. He barely knows which shack is his,â Hank said with a chuckle. âHeâs a nice guy, but he isnât much of a fisherman.â
âDoes he have any family who might use the shack?â Frank asked.
âI think heâs got two daughters who live in Florida. His brother still runs the diner. I tell you, Rizzo isnât the type to be mixed up in anything,â Hank said.
âBut everyone knows heâs on the lake only on weekends?â Joe asked.
Frank knew what Joe was thinking. âSo, anyone whoâs out there with any regularity would know the shanty is empty most of the time?â
âYup,â Hank said as he poured them more steaming cider.
âAnd unless I miss my guess, theyâve been keeping a pretty close watch on us every time weâre out there,â Frank said.
âHank, did you see anybody hitchhiking around here last night?â Joe asked.
âIn this weather? Itâs way too cold,â Hank said.
âIt does sound crazy,â Frank said.
âSure does. Red would have barked his fool head off if someone had walked by, and he didnât,â Hank said. âSo, who do you think it is?â
âWell, we donât want to jump to any conclusions, but Iâm beginning to think we should be spending more time around Tuttleâs Bait Shop,â Frank said.
âErnie?â Hank said. âThatâs ridiculous.â
âItâs got to be someone who can watch the lake pretty much all the time,â Frank said.
âDo you know much about Ernieâs grandsons?â Joe asked.
Hank sat back in his chair. âNo, I donât know them very well,â he admitted. âThey stay pretty much to themselves.â
âItâs only a theory,â Frank said.
âIâll keep my mouth shut,â Hank said. âYou can count on me.â
âThanks a lot, Hank. And donât take any chances. Whoeverâs out there hurt Lang pretty bad,â Frank said as he stood up.
âDonât you worry, Red and I will be safe,â Hank said as he
Cordwainer Smith, selected by Hank Davis