A moon sliver hung like a thin slice of honeydew melon over the horizon. I lit a cigarette and sipped from my glass. It was very clear to me that some fanatical member of SAFE had tried to kill Wally. The newsletter had given Wally’s phone number and post office box number in Fenwick. The SAFE vigilante had called the number and left his message. A few inquiries of the local shopkeepers and gas station attendants would have directed him to “the Palmer place,” Walt’s cabin. Probably it was seeing my own name on that list that led me to my next conclusion. Or maybe it was irrational. But it seemed eminently likely to me that the same crazy man who shot Wally might have gotten it into his skewed brain to work his way clown the list, picking off enemies one by one, to the greater glory of God, Country, and the Second Amendment For Ever. I’d he number seven, if he got that far. State Senator Marlon Swift was number two. If my logic was sound, he would be next. There had been two messages on my machine when I got back from my adventures in the Berkshires.
