On the wilderness 2 campsite at the Cove Campgrounds, a body has been discovered. At first, Ivan can't make an identification, but as he considers the features of the dead guy, he changes his mind.

He realizes, "I do know this guy."

Changing your story while being questioned during a murder investigation can be an indication of deception.

Did Ivan Aleksa have something he was hiding?

"His name is Mason. He was in Cambodia with me."

"You said you didn't know him. Get your story straight, Aleksa. Who is he?" the sheriff demanded.

McCoy listened carefully, considering what he knew about Ivan. What he heard rang true. McCoy considered the look on Ivan's face when he first looked at the vic and the knife in his chest.

"His name is Mason. I worked with him while I was in Southeast Asia," Ivan said. "The last time I saw him, he had hair on his head and none on his face. He obviously didn't want to be easily identified."

"Samon, M-a-s-o-n, Mason. It's an anagram. Lib is Bil or Bill. Bill Mason. Shady characters often rearrange the letters of their name to go with their new identity. I watched Ivan's face when he first looked at him. There was no recognition whatsoever. I believe he didn't recognize him," McCoy said.

"I'm glad you're sure about it. I'm not so sure," Sheriff Davis said. "He's in the middle of everything that goes on around here, and he's in the middle of this. He doesn't know the guy. He does know the guy. He lied and I won't forget that."

McCoy kept his mouth shut. Telling a jerk he's a jerk isn't wise, McCoy told himself, especially when he has the power to arrest you.

After Ivan identifies the body on wilderness 2 as Bill Mason's, the sheriff starts viewing Ivan with suspicion, because he didn't see through his disguise at first.

Ivan regarded Mason a threat to him. He isn't going to shed any tears over his death, but Ivan also knows, this isn't Mason's first time at the cove, and Ivan made it clear what he'd do if Mason came near him. He made it public by telling Harry to tell Mason's people.

Mason, a nemesis if Ivan had one, lies dead at his campgrounds. Ivan inadvertently threatened to kill the guy. Actually, the threat was quite inadvertent, and he meant every word, but he hadn't killed Mason. Once the truth came out and with Sheriff Davis on the job, Ivan was on the way to the chair. Didn't matter if he killed him or not.

Gerald wasn't even Ivan's first worry. There were plenty of big mean men who worked where Mason worked. When word got out about Mason's murder, they were going to come looking for him, and what they did to him would be a lot worse than anything Gerald did.

With Sheriff Davis already eying him suspiciously, Ivan wasn't talking. Gerald, hearing about Ivan's threat, would have a laser like focus on him as the guilty party. Even an intelligent man might lean toward charging Ivan with the murder because of the threat.

Ivan wasn't saying anything. He needed advice and he knew where to go to get it. He wouldn't go to Gerald with the information.

McCoy, a homicide detective, knows murder. He'd be happy to give an assist to the local sheriff, but that's not happening. He'd advise Ivan how not to look quite so guilty.

Harry, in DC deliberating over the debt ceiling and budget, could have told Ivan, 'Mason is coming to ask for your help.' He considered adding, Don't shoot him.' He would mean it as injecting humor into the situation at hand. Harry was quick to realize, it wasn't funny, and when Clay confronted him about bargaining with his lover's life, there would be hell to pay. It wasn't funny at all.

What was he going to say? What the hell was Ivan going to say? He'd put the conversation off all week. He had to call Ivan Thursday.

If he called Ivan before going onto the floor Thursday morning, it was already too late. Nothing Harry did would make any difference, even if he was a senator.

He could have called Ivan's number after getting to his office that morning, but Ivan was out collecting the trash. He'd come back to the shop after Harry left for the floor of the senate.

He'd call during the break at ten.

What's Clay going to say when he finds out that Harry could have warned Ivan that Mason was coming, and didn't? Harry, a man always in charge, had screwed the pooch, leaving the fickle finger of fate pointing squarely at Ivan Aleksa.

McCoy knew Ivan didn't kill Mason. He ran onto that campsite to put out a fire. A killer would have let McCoy go first. He wouldn't return to the scene of the crime until someone went ahead of him. He'd be careful to shift the blame in some other direction.

"Let me get this straight, you worked with this guy and you couldn't identify him? Do you expect me to swallow that, Aleksa?"

"We worked for the same people. I saw him from week to week. We had no other interaction. With the bald head and hairy face, he doesn't look the same."

"I'd like to talk to those folks about how well you know Lib," the sheriff said.

"Mason," Ivan corrected. "Bill Mason."

"Give me the name and number of the company you worked for, while you were over there," Sheriff Davis ordered.

"I'm not at liberty to give you that information," Ivan said. "If you don't mind, I've got trash to pick up, if I'm allowed to pick up the trash."

"Yeah, well, don't try to leave town, Aleksa," the sheriff said. "I'm not done with you."

"I've got the campground to run, Gerald. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll walk with you Ivan," McCoy said. "You don't intend to hold us, do you, Sheriff?" McCoy asked politely.

"No, you're free to go for now. I got my eye on you, Aleksa."

McCoy fell in behind Ivan as he walked back toward the beach.

"Remember what I told you about small town justice?" McCoy said, as they left the path to step onto the beach.

Ivan looked at the trash buggy. He'd go to the shop and come back with Tag later. He needed a cup of coffee right now and he needed to talk to McCoy about murder.

"You don't need to say it, McCoy. I've already figured it out." "I'd be careful what I say in front of the sheriff, if I were you," McCoy said. "My advice is, if you talk to him, have your attorney present."

Going into the shop, Ivan went to the counter where Tag still stood.

"You want to give me a hand with the trash, Tag."

"Sure, Boss. Harry called. I said you're out. I didn't know what to tell him about this mess. Said he'd call later."

"Nothing to say. He's probably looking for Clay. I figured Clay would go to the Conservancy. He wants to do JK's for lunch and he intended to be at the Conservancy this morning."

"He asked for you. When he's looking for Clay, he asks if Clay's here. Let's get the trash," Tag said.

"Coffee is self-serve this morning, McCoy. Help yourself," Ivan said as Tag followed him outside.

McCoy went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He sat in the chair in front of the gigantic mahogany desk. He looked out the huge front window of the shop. He heard the trash buggy start up.

He took a big swig of the hot brew.

It was quite a lovely view. The cove was a lovely place.

Why wouldn't Ivan say who he and Mason worked for? McCoy asked himself as he played back the events of that morning.

Then, he remembered, he didn't tell anyone what he did. McCoy was certain Ivan didn't kill anyone. If he did Mason, Ivan was the coolest killer he'd ever seen. There had to be a reason why Ivan didn't choose to tell the sheriff who he worked for.

The coffee was hot and strong. Just what the doctor ordered. He savored each swallow as his mind wandered out over the beauty of the cove. What a lovely location, and by looking to the right of the cove entrance, the wide expanse of the green waters of the Gulf of Mexico spread out as far as his eye could see.

McCoy watched Ivan when he returned to the shop. He didn't say anything. He went directly to the coffee pot. He poured a cup for himself and filled Tag's cup he'd collected off the counter. He dropped Tag's cup on the counter and brought the pot around to refill McCoy's cup. He put the pot back and brought his own cup back. He sat down.

"Thank you," McCoy said. "This is good coffee. I drink a lot of coffee, and this is good coffee."

"There's a shop in Fort Myers that doesn't sell anything but coffee. It comes from all over the world. I favor Ethiopian beans. There's a hint of spice I love. Sumatran beans sometimes have a superior taste.

"I like Dunkin Donuts. I get my coffee with donuts. Mildred likes the coffee she gets from the A&P. It's cheap and it tastes like coffee."

"Sorry about that," Ivan said in an apology. "When I was.... over there, there were tea houses that had the best tea, but when you wanted coffee, you went to a shop that imported their coffee beans. I'd ask about the flavors I liked best. When I came back, I was told I could get the same coffee in Fort Myers. Americans are mundane about their coffee. It should be strong and easy on the wallet. Mostly easy on the wallet," Ivan said.

"You spoke the language?" McCoy asked, interested in where Ivan had been over there."

"Here, Fresno, I worked for the Cambodian Air Freight company. They all spoke a mixture of Cambodian, Thai, Vietnamese, and French. If you couldn't understand someone in the local lingo, you went to French. Everyone spoke French," Ivan explained.

"In Cambodia or in Fresno?" McCoy asked.

Ivan looked at McCoy. He was a cop and he was waiting to get the whole story. Anything else would make him even more suspicious than he already was. Ivan would confide in McCoy, because he was an OK guy, as guys went. It wasn't an easy story to tell, even five years after the fact."

Ivan sat behind the gigantic mahogany desk, McCoy turned his deck chair so he faced him. Their eyes were on each other now.

Ivan had taken the time to explain the taste of the coffee. What Ivan refused to tell the sheriff, he was about to tell McCoy.

The wily Chicago police detective saw it coming.

What he was about to hear was far more fantastical than any story he'd ever been told by anyone. Once Ivan got into the tale he had to tell, McCoy was hearing the music from the Twilight Zone.

Ivan saw McCoy waiting for him to talk. He didn't want to lose the respect of this man, but he was way out on a limb, and he hoped McCoy might be able to pull him back. He could tell the story backwards and forwards, but he wanted to be careful with his words. There were things he dare not say. Things he was warned never to say.

Ivan started at the end.

"I threatened that guy, McCoy," Ivan said.

Right away he knew he'd started in the wrong place. For a cop, it would be all he needed to hear, but getting it out of the way was best.

"Who is it you threatened?" McCoy asked for clarity,

Tag came back into the shop. He went behind the counter to pick up the mug of steaming coffee.

"Thanks, Boss," Tag said.

Ivan and McCoy sat staring at each other.

McCoy couldn't believe he'd need to wait to hear the rest of the story. Why did Tag need to come back when Ivan was ready to talk?

"Did I interrupt something. I can go back out," Tag offered.

"Thank you, Tag," Ivan answered. "No, you know the story."

McCoy took a sip of his coffee. Ivan raised his cup to drink. Tag stood watching the steam rising from the hot brew in front of him.

"And," McCoy said, waiting as long as he could.

Ivan let his brown eyes meet McCoy's steel blue eyes. He wanted there to be no doubt, he was giving the man the facts.

"He came here last year. He was watching me. He cut down the brush on wilderness 1 to watch the shop. I called Harry, the senator. I told him to tell the Company, 'I'll shoot Mason if he comes near me.'"

"You have a gun?" McCoy asked.

"The one the Company gave me to protect myself," Ivan said.

McCoy thought about Ivan's words for several minutes. He drank coffee to help him think. He looked out the huge window at the front of the shop. He watched a boat preparing to enter the Gulf.

"The Company company? That's why you didn't tell the sheriff where you worked with Mason. That's why Harry's involved."

"That's why," Ivan said.

"Why tell me this?" McCoy asked.

"Because I trust you. You know murder. I didn't kill Mason. Yes, I threatened him, because he threatened my life here. I didn't kill him."

"I never thought you did, but you've told me you have a motive and endless opportunities to do the guy. I can tell you, that isn't good if someone doesn't stand up, raise his hand, and say, "I killed Mason." Do you know how guilty that makes you look, Ivan?"

"That's also why I'm telling you. I already figured out that I'm in deep shit. As soon as Gerald finds out about the threat, he's going to arrest me. I don't know what to do about that, McCoy. Any suggestions?"

"Your local sheriff is the least of your worries, My Friend. You are going to be accused of killing a CIA operative. The Company isn't going to like that Mason is no longer among the living. I wouldn't want to be you. Deep shit doesn't even come close to the difficulties you are about to have."

"No," Ivan said. "I suppose not. I don't know what I can say. I was warned not to say anything about my activities by the station chief in Cambodia. I followed that advice up until right now. Clay knows most of the story. He knows what I couldn't tell him for his own safety, Gerald's a nuisance. He's not dangerous. The longer he's sheriff, the more insufferable he becomes. It's the Company that worries me. The final thing that was said to me, when I was released after serving out my five year contract, 'We know where to find you if we need you.' That's why Mason was here last year. I'm sure it's why he came back. I don't plan to return to Southeast Asia."

"You'd rather do time in a federal prison? We're not talking a few decades here," McCoy said. "If they convict you, well, life is the best you can hope to do."

"I did not kill him, McCoy."

"He'd tell you if he did," Tag said, putting his hand over his mouth after he let the words loose in the room. "Sorry."

"These aren't people you can reason with. I know nothing about the Company. What I've heard from other government agents, they do almost anything they decide to do. Forget everything you've been told about whether they can or can't operate inside the US."

"That's why I threatened Mason's life. I wasn't going back over there. I have a life, people I love, and I won't go back," Ivan said.

"Tag?" McCoy asked.

"I trust Tag with my life. He took a bullet for me once," Ivan said.

McCoy looked toward Tag and nodded. Tag nodded back.

"You were going to tell me about you and Mason," McCoy said. "I'd like to hear about that. Don't say anything that puts you in more jeopardy than you're already in. I can read between the lines."

"Mason was my handler in Cambodia. I didn't know, know him. We had no relationship beyond him debriefing me when he was instructed to. He was supposed to keep me from getting in over my head. He was not a man I trusted. I saw him in action twice. I didn't like what I saw. As I said, we had no relationship."

"So, let's see if I have this straight, you told a senator about your intention to kill this guy, and now he's dead?" McCoy asked.

"Yep! I figure threatening him wasn't my best move, under the circumstances. I wanted him to go away. I didn't want to shoot him."

"No, maybe not," McCoy said.

Under the circumstances, McCoy knew, he'd arrest Ivan for the murder of Mason if it took place in Chicago.

"You've put yourself in serious jeopardy, Ivan. I know you didn't do this. I don't know how to prove that. I know what devious minds look like. You're about as devious as my sainted mother" McCoy said.

"You think I'm in a lot of trouble though?"

"Motive. Opportunity. The guy is staying at your campground. You didn't think that threat could come back to bite you on the ass?"

"Didn't think. Reacted. I saw them forcing me to go back over there. I thought I'd rather die than put myself in their hands again."

"The life you have. Clay, your son, you would rather be dead than spending your life loving them? There's always a way out that doesn't include death, Ivan. You have more to live for than most people I know."

"I knew all that when I made the threat. I wanted it to go away, and it did, until this morning on wilderness 2. I don't know what he was doing here, but I'm not surprised trouble followed him here."

"Why Harry?" McCoy asked. "He's that close to you?"

"No, Clay's Harry's boy. I'm Clay's boyfriend. It's complicated. Harry gave me one of his business cards when he was running for congress. He knew he'd be elected to his father's old seat. He already set up his office in DC. I was trying to get into Vietnam. The Company men caught me 'illegally entering a war zone.' I don't even know if that's a thing or not, but they said it was and they say and do whatever they want. After they caught me, they found Harry's card in my wallet. One of them apparently dialed the number, and then hung up when Harry answered."

"Harry immediately put a trace on the call?"

"Bingo," Ivan said. "He knew what it was about right away. I'm Clay's boyfriend. He gave me his card to please Clay. He put his career on the line for me, McCoy. He probably saved my life. I knew he could get a message to Mason's people, and he did. Mason left and I hadn't seen him again until this morning."

"And you called Harry and told him you intended to kill Mason."

"That's a bit harsh. I qualified it with, 'if he comes near me.' It was up to him how close he wanted to get, knowing the consequences."

"Let's back up a bit. Why were you trying to get into Vietnam? That sounds about as crazy as anything I've heard lately. Guys your age were trying to avoid going to Vietnam if my memory is right. I wasn't smart enough to be one of them, but I was nineteen. They counted on us being gung-ho, once they waved the flag at us."

"It's a long story, McCoy," Ivan said. "I was young."

"I just happen to have some time on my hands, although I've got to go spend some time with my wife, after you give me the details on how a nice boy like you got mixed up with the Company."

Ivan sipped his coffee and the story unfolded from the time Boris Aleksa went onto the MIA list during the Vietnam war.

"That is the craziest damn story I've heard, and I believe every word of it," McCoy confessed.

"So, do you think there's a way I get out of this?"

"Not a chance. You fuck with the Company, Son, and your days are numbered. They have long memories and you are short on time. The only person with enough juice to help you here is that senator, but I don't even know how he'd help you. Call in a favor maybe."

"I figured as much. The sheriff isn't a big fan either," Ivan said.

"I noticed. He already is looking for a way to pin this on you. He's going to have you locked up before the day is out. The CIA is the wild card. They'll move on this when their ready."

"He'd been here since Sunday night. Mason," Ivan said. "I saw the registry. Never looked twice at the name Lib Samon. I didn't even recognize the son-of-a-bitch. If I'd seen his eyes, heard his voice, I'd have known it was him."

"What was he doing here?" McCoy asked no one.

"Most people come here are your average Joe getting away for a few days. I try to respect the guests' privacy," Ivan said.

"Don't think I don't appreciate that," McCoy said. "Why was he here? We know that and we might figure out who killed him."

It was an hour and a half after McCoy went to walk with his wife that Clay got back to the shop.

"What's going on?" Clay asked as he came in. "My kid was less than forthcoming when I gave him the third degree. I'd have gotten him to talk if I had more than three miles to grill him?"

"It's almost eleven. The school is a five minute drive. It took you all this time to drive to school and back? You get lost?" Ivan asked.

"No, I had an article for a newsletter to get out. I've been at the Conservancy doing that," Clay said.

"You know how ridiculously quiet this place usually is, Babe?"

"Yeah," Clay said, suspicion in his voice.

"There was a fire on wilderness 2 this morning," Ivan said.

"Yes, it takes two fire trucks and the sheriff to put out a fire on a campsite no bigger than a postage stamp?" Clay asked.

"Did I mention the body on wilderness 2? Mason's body?" Ivan added, leading the witness.

"And why does that name sound familiar?"

"Mason is dead on wilderness 2. His campfire got out of hand. We went to put it out. McCoy found Mason's body that I missed in the smoke. Did you happen to know that Angus McCoy is a homicide detective, Babe?"

"Ops!" Clay said. "He may have mentioned it."

"You knew that and you didn't warn me not to waste anyone while he was camping here, Babe?"

"That's not funny," Clay said.

McCoy, reaching in to hold the bell, came into the shop. Only Tag noticed his arrival.

"No, considering the situation, it isn't at all funny," McCoy said. "I don't think you know how much trouble he's in," McCoy said.

Ivan and Clay looked at the door.

"Why was it you failed to mention McCoy's occupation, Babe?"

"He mentioned it the day he went with me to take Dylan to school."

"You failed to mention this little tidbit why?" Ivan asked.

"I'd accused him of trying to get into your pants," Clay said.

Tag spit out the swallow of coffee he'd just taken.

"You accused him of what?" Ivan asked, trying not to laugh.

McCoy did laugh. It wasn't at all funny at the time, but looking back on it did create a humorous side to the accusation.

Tag coughed.

"He said if I didn't tell you he was a cop, he'd forget my misreading why he spent so much time at the shop," Clay said.

"Clayton Olson, you are a piece of work. Did you give any thought to the fact I'm not interested in anyone but you?" Ivan asked.

"There is that, but he was always here," Clay said.

"There is that," Ivan said. "You do realize that I threatened to kill Mason?" Ivan asked. "You and my kid are my alibi."

"You were with me since after dinner last night," Clay said. "You left just before six to come to the shop and Dylan left with you."

"When I checked for a pulse, he'd been dead less than an hour. He died between five thirty and six this morning," McCoy said.

"Yes, but he's on one of my campsites. He's very dead. I threatened to kill him. You see the problem here, and you won't make a good witness," Ivan said.

"Why the hell not? I'm a respected marine biologist," Clay said.

"You're my partner. Dylan's my kid. There would be suspicion you were lying to protect the man you love," Ivan said.

"You've got that right," McCoy said. "You've gotten yourself into one big bind, my friend. I can testify, as an expert witness, the man died between five thirty and six. You were picking up trash a few minutes after six. I can testify to that, but besides the weakness of your witnesses who confirm your whereabouts at the time of death. I can put you on the beach, but it only takes two minutes to walk to wilderness 2, plant the knife, and walk back. That's the problem with your alibi. A good prosecutor would eat you alive."

"He'd need to be very hungry," Ivan quipped.

"I was with you all night. Dylan and I were with you after we got up at a little after five this morning," Clay said.

"There's the little problem that you're my lover and the kid is my kid. You don't think Dylan might lie to protect dear ole' Daddy-O?"

Clay only needed a minute to consider the proposition.

"No, I don't think Dylan would lie for you. We've raised him to regard the truth as an important part of his character. I don't lie. Who would trust me if I was caught in a lie, especially if I lied about the environment. They'd think I was being paid to promote a certain point of view. I don't lie because I value my reputation."

Clay had the floor and he made his case for why his testimony should be believed.

"Any alibi is better than no alibi. The problem is the threat. The problem is Ivan's access to wilderness 2. Lies are why the jury is there to figure out. They are there to decide who is lying and who isn't. I think both Clay and Dylan would be believable, but that's what I think, but I may not be objective at this point," McCoy said.

"I don't think either of you would lie for me. While I'm not objective, risking your good reputation for the likes of me isn't worth it. I don't want anyone lying for the likes of me. I've done some dumb things in my life. Threatening Mason ranks right up there with the dumbest."

"McCoy?" Clay asked. "You're the expert on murder."

"Like I say, it comes down to believability. It might be enough to steer a good investigator away from Ivan long enough for him to look in another direction, just in case. Get the attention off Ivan for long enough to find the killer. I wouldn't bet on that happening. An easy solution to a complicated case is popular with an inexperienced sheriff. You have an alibi they can't break. In front of a jury, it could be enough. Unfortunately, juries are notoriously unpredictable. With your looks and charm, you could sway them to wanting you to be innocent."

"The fact I am innocent wouldn't matter," Ivan said.

"Why'd he come here to get himself murdered?" Clay asked.

"One of the great mysteries of life, Babe. The simple truth is, that's what he did. Remind me not to threaten anyone else."


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