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complain about. I remember he was wearing a T-shirt and khaki shorts—the Warner Pier uniform—and his tee was tight enough to show off smooth muscles. He might have been small, but he looked macho. I couldn’t remember his face, but I remembered that he wasn’t unattractive. I could see that Jill might well have been attracted to him.
    Now I recalled my attention to my phone call. Max told me he would be heading for Warner Pier within the hour and assured me he’d check on Jill when he got there. She lived, he told me, in the small dorm the theater ran for cast and crew members.
    I somehow found my voice and said good-bye. Then I hung up, and I again tried to picture Jeremy Mattox. Something about his appearance was trying to bubble up from my memory.
    I went into the kitchen and stared out the window, and I tried to remember. His face? I couldn’t describe it in detail. His build? Muscular, but not muscle-bound. His clothing?
    As I said, Jeremy had worn the Warner Pier uniform, khaki shorts and a T-shirt. I was wearing the same thing myself at that moment—my polo shirt was a medium blue. I don’t know why khaki shorts are the standard garb for our town, but they are. The only variation for summer workers comes in the colors of their T-shirts. City employees wear white, for example, and TenHuis counter girls, naturally, wear chocolate brown.
    T-shirt. I closed my eyes and pictured Jeremy Mattox. His T-shirt had been a reddish orange, a rather odd color. And it had words across the front.
    What did the T-shirt say?
    Suddenly I remembered.
    â€œCamp Sail-Along.”

Chapter 7

    I t was the distinctive red-orange color that tickled my memory and made me recall the words on the shirt.
    Warner Pier is in summer camp country, of course. All around us are church camps, sports camps, math or science camps—like the one where Ken McNutt was teaching—and those camps where rich parents park their kids for the entire summer. Some of the camps are old, some new. But Camp Sail-Along’s shirt was recognizable because it wasn’t a standard red, blue, green, or yellow. It was that color sometimes called “bittersweet” or maybe “brick,” a bright rust that might be hard to find in an ordinary T-shirt catalog. On the shirt’s left front was a triangular logo that seemed to represent a sail. The name was centered under the logo.
    Apparently Camp Sail-Along was a sailing camp. But it could be either a day camp or a residential camp.
    What connection could Jeremy Mattox have had with Camp Sail-Along? Maybe none. The camp might have sold some leftover shirts at a garage sale, and he picked one up for a couple of bucks. Or he could have been a counselor there sometime. Or he could have had a girlfriend who was a counselor there. Or he could have been a camper there, once upon a time.
    I decided to find out more about the camp. I called the secretary of the Warner Pier Chamber of Commerce, Zelda Gruppen. I had to begin by apologizing for bothering her on her afternoon off.
    â€œIt’s okay,” she said. “I’m just doing laundry. Any interruption is welcome. What can I do for you?”
    â€œDo you know anything about Camp Sail-Along?”
    â€œI know they got new ownership and dropped their chamber membership.”
    â€œDirty deal! Why’d they do that?”
    â€œI only talked to one guy, and he was quite friendly, but he wasn’t very informative. I think his name was Jack. I’d have to look at the files to tell you any more.”
    â€œWas Jack the new owner?”
    â€œI couldn’t figure out if he was the owner or the manager or maybe the handyman. All I know is that I sent a statement for their annual dues, and I didn’t get a reply. So I phoned the old number. This Jack answered and said they weren’t going to join this year. He said it was going to be a ‘restructuring’ year.”
    â€œHmm. So they left