The Web

wildly as Dennis tried to appease them.

The middle-aged man stamped a foot, waved a fist, and shouted. Dennis said something and the fist waved again. The man pointed and touched his heart. Dennis put a hand on his shoulder. The man shook it off angrily.

People started to move in from the street.

Dennis glared and they dispersed, very slowly.

The older man stamped and touched his heart again. One of the younger men turned and I got a look at his face: plain, round, acned.

Unmistakable resemblance to Betty Aguilar.

Dennis ushered them back inside and I continued south. I hadn't gone far before I heard footsteps behind me. A quick look back: some of the youths I'd passed at the intersection. Four of them, hands in pockets, advancing quickly.

I stopped, looked at them blankly and when that didn't stop them, tried to stare them down.

They kept coming.

I crossed the street, ending up in front of the Trading Post. The structure was sealed with yellow crime-scene tape. Some things were the same everywhere.

Slim's Bar was closed now too, but several beer swillers loitered in the gravel bed that served as the tavern's parking lot.

The four men behind me hesitated, then jogged across.

I reversed direction and headed back toward the center.

The youths picked up speed. One of them had something in his hand. A short wooden club- like a cop's billy, but sawn-off.

I ran.

They did, too. Their mouths were open and their eyes were fixed.

The police station wasn't far, but the hangers-on at Slim's could be a problem.

As I got closer, they closed rank, forming a human wall.

Skip Amalfi among them, flushed, his lips pursed in an attempted belch. Anders Haygood, next to him, stolid and sober, the gray eyes amused.

The boys to my back shouted something.

The Slim's crowd moved forward.

Caught in the middle.

More shouts, loud murmuring, then someone's voice above it all: 'Idiots!'

Jacqui Laurent had burst through the Slim's crowd. Taller than most of the men, she wore a grease-specked apron over her flowered dress and was waving something.

Big cast-iron frypan.

One of the Slim's crowd said something.

She cut him off: 'Shut up, you moron! What do you think you're doing?'

The four young men were close enough for me to hear their panting.

I whipped around.

The one with the club came forward, making small circles with the weapon. He had a feather beard and long hair. Some of his shirt buttons were missing, exposing a hairless chest.

Jacqui was at my side. 'Ignacio!'

She grabbed for the club. Ignacio held on. She tugged.

Someone laughed.

She curled her lip. 'Big shots. Big heroes. Ganging up on an innocent guy.'

'Who says he's innocent?' said one of the Slim's crowd. 'He lives up there.'

'Yeah.'

'Yeah, motherfu-'

'So?' said Jacqui. 'So what?'

'So he's…'

'What?'

'A-'

'What, Henry? So he's a guest up at the castle? So what does that mean? That we act like animals?'

'Someone's been acting like an animal,' said Skip, 'and it ain't-'

'You shut up-look who's talking.'

Skip's nostrils opened. 'Hey-'

'Hey, yourself. Shut up and listen. You're an animal- and that animal's a pig.'

Skip moved forward. Haygood held him back, thick arms taut.

'Come on, big man,' said Jacqui, jerking the club. 'You going to attack me? A woman with a frypan? That how you get your jollies? Or is peeing at women your only thing?'

Skip's chinless face paled and he struggled in Haygood's grip.

Haygood said something and Skip made the sound of a hungry kid refused supper.

'Big shot,' said Jacqui. 'Big shot with your bladder. Every time a woman goes on the beach you follow her and pee near her blanket. Like a dog marking. Very brave.'

Skip lunged. Haygood restrained him, and some of the other men joined in holding him back.

'Easy, man,' said one of them.

'Come on,' said Jacqui, suddenly wresting the billy from Ignacio's grip and waving it along with the skillet. 'Go at me, Skip. You like to get tough with women, right? Maybe you had something to do with Betty, tough guy.'

Skip snarled and Haygood did something to his shoulder that made his face go limp.

'Like a dog,' said Jacqui. 'Following every new woman around, peeing- you think that's funny?'

She ran her eyes over the other men: 'Any of you think that's funny? Peeing on the beach near a woman's blanket? Did it happen to any of your sisters? Or your mamas? 'Cause he did it to me when he first came over- remember that, Skip?'

Back to the others: 'That your idea of brave, boys? Peeing on women and beating up on innocent men?'

Silence.

'Big tough macho-men. Gang up on a guest- what's his crime? Visiting? How do you think this island will ever get anywhere, you treat people like this?'

The men avoided her eyes.

Skip was rubbing his shoulder. Haygood turned him around and tried to move him away. Skip shoved Haygood's arm away but walked.

Jacqui stared at the Slim's crowd until it began to fall apart. Soon no one was left but the four youths who'd stalked me. The one named Ignacio stared at the billy in Jacqui's hand. She pointed the frypan at them.

'You should be ashamed of yourself. I have a good mind to tell your mothers.'

One of the youths started to smirk.

'Think that's funny, Duane? I'll tell your mama first.'

'Go ahea-'

'Want me to? Really, Duane? First I'll tell her about what I saw on North Beach.'

Duane's mouth slammed shut. The other boys stared at him.

'Yeah, so?' he said.

'Yeah, so.' Jacqui tapped a firm thigh with the skillet. 'You really want me to do that, Duane?'

'Whu-?' said one of the other boys, giggling. 'Whud you do, Duane?'