The next day, Sam went out to the house and found the pool contractors hard at work, jack hammers attacking the old pool. "Won't be long now," Bill said. "They'll be digging in a couple of days."

"How come there isn't a dumpster or something out in the driveway?"

"Ah," Bill said with a chuckle, "why drag all that concrete to the landfill and then drag a lot of dirt back here? They'll use it to fill the hole and then put dirt on top. About five feet of it."

"Good. The dirt I mean. Toby wants to plant an orchard there."

Bill looked at the space with a calculating eye. "Yeah, citrus. Have more oranges, lemons, and kumquats than you can shake a stick at." He turned back to Sam. "Keep that man, Sam. Keep him happy, keep him safe and keep him close. He's got a good eye and good ideas. If I was bigger-had a bigger business-I'd hire him just like that. A little experience and he'd be a firecracker of a designer. Besides that, he's a nice guy."

"I have every intention of keeping him, Bill. Making him a designer? I think the hotel might have something to say about that."

"He'd still make a great designer," Bill grumbled.

On Thursday, Sam arrived at the Coroner's Office a half hour early and had to walk around until noon. He knew he was overly anxious, but couldn't help himself. He just had to see some pictures of the man they'd pulled out of Martin's bathtub.

At exactly twelve, he went through the glass door and into the office. Matt was waiting for him at the counter and took him back into the filing section right away.

"I sent them all to lunch a few minutes early," he said. "Gives us a little more time."

He showed Sam the banks of filing cabinets and the console of the new computer system. "We're still putting the old stuff into it," he said, punching a few buttons, "but all the recent stuff goes in right away." He typed something into the machine, and a copy of a form appeared on the screen, in full color. "Here's the final report. You'll note that he didn't die from slashing his wrists."

"What? Not from..."

Matt chuckled. "Not a chance. He hardly cut much of anything. Was the water red?"

Sam thought for a second. "Well, it was sort of pink. And the paramedics put bandages around his wrists when they pulled him out."

"So he wouldn't get blood all over them and the body bag. No Sam, this guy died because he was doped to the eyeballs with Xanax, Sonata and alcohol. Looks like he slashed his wrists just for good measure, although with that many drugs in him, I don't see how he stayed conscious long enough to do it."

"What... What are those drugs he took? Stuff off the street?"

"No, no," Matt said. "You don't know a lot about drugs, do you?" Sam shook his head. "Well Xanax is a tranquilizer, a pretty powerful one, and Sonata is a sleeping pill, again a very powerful one. Mix those up with a couple of drinks and you're guaranteed to not wake up."

"I guess he was a little bit depressed because he couldn't find a job, and maybe that made him have trouble sleeping but..." But this isn't Martin, he thought. How did he get some guy to take all those drugs? "That's a lot of pills to swallow, isn't it?"

"He didn't swallow pills. According to the police report, he'd dissolved them in a rather potent margarita. They found the glass on the shelf by the tub." He typed something else into the computer. "But you're not interested in how he actually did it, are you? I thought you just wanted to see the pictures."

"Uh... Yeah, the pictures. So I can get this whole damn thing out of my mind once and for all."

A picture of Martin-or a man who was supposed to be Martin-suddenly appeared on the screen. He was still in the bathtub; evidently it was the first picture taken. You really couldn't see the face since it was taken from behind, and you couldn't make out the dick either. It was blurred, under the water.

"Are there others?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yes. Lots of others. I told you, they photograph everything." He typed another command and a page of thumbnail pictures appeared. "Here," he said, looking closely at the thumbnails, "we'll bring up a few of these."

Number seven hit the jackpot. It was taken from above, a full body shot, and it clearly showed the man's face and the fact that he was circumcised. It was all there, the change of skin color on the shaft somehow emphasized by the lighting.

"Can... Can you make a print of that?" Sam asked.

Matt laughed. "You going to put it under your pillow at night? Or maybe out on the Internet?"

"No. I just... I just want to have it, to look at it when I..." He stopped, knowing he was beginning to babble. "I just want it."

Matt shook his head but pushed the "print" button. Why this man wanted that picture was a complete mystery to him, but he figured it was okay to do for a friend. The department rules said he couldn't, but what the hell. Anyway, the picture was public property.

"Just don't go showing it around. I could get into a lot of trouble for this." He went into another part of the office and came back, holding the print out to Sam.

"I owe you for this, Matt. Drinks are on me next time."

Matt grinned, regaining his good humor. "Got to be careful there, Sam. You could be offering a bribe to a public servant." He handed Sam an envelope for the print. "On the other hand, a drink before dinner probably wouldn't count as a major bribe."

Sam laughed. "I'm glad to hear that. Next dinner, whatever you want." He slid the picture into the envelope and looked at his watch. "Can I buy you lunch?"

Matt shook his head. "The girls will be coming back pretty quick, so I think I'd better take a pass on lunch."

"Then I'd better be getting out of your way." He gave Matt a quick kiss. "Thank you, Matt. I really appreciate this."

That evening he showed the picture to Toby and told him about the drugs in the man's body.

"So, do you think he took the drugs to kill himself and slashed his wrists just as good measure?" Toby asked.

"I don't know. But think about the other possibility."

"You mean someone gave him the drugs to kill him and then slashed the wrists to make it look like suicide? That only works if, one, the "him" isn't Martin, and two, Martin found a guy who looked just like him-or at least enough like him to pass as him. Which, to my way of thinking, is highly unlikely."

"I know it's far-fetched, but the fact remains that the man in this picture," Sam tapped his finger at the appropriate place on the photograph, "is circumcised, and Martin was not."

Toby sighed. "Well, I think maybe I need to see a photo of Martin."

"I don't know; that may not be possible. But everyone here has seen it. Hell, most of them have had it. Ask anyone."

They decided they'd ask some of the guys at the pool on Sunday afternoon.

On Friday, they went to Melvin's for dinner. Sam had insisted because he'd had such a good lunch there with the Prime Timers. Toby was suitably impressed, but was not particularly happy that they had to wear coats and ties. "I wear that every day at work," he'd reminded Sam several times. "Why would I want to wear it for dinner, too?"

"Because we have to go there and because the food's really good." He brushed Toby's lips with a kiss. "And because you'll really like it, despite the coat and tie, which, by the way, make you look almost as handsome as you do when you aren't wearing anything at all."

Toby really did like the place, coat and tie notwithstanding.

Over two desserts, instead of their normal shared one, Toby said, "Sam? I think it's time we came at least as far as the twentieth century."

Sam looked blank.

"A computer, Sam. You really need to learn to use one."

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, you could have gone out to that web site, what is it, OlderAndBetter? The one Martin was on. Maybe you could even find a picture of him there."

Sam contemplated that for a moment. "Couldn't you do that? I mean, you have a computer at work, don't you?"

Toby laughed. "I can just see my boss now, walking into my office and finding me looking at naked men on the company computer. He may be gay, Sam, but at work he's all business."

"Your boss is gay?"

Toby looked up. "I guess. I mean, he has a boyfriend and all. We never talk about it, but it's pretty much common knowledge."

"Does he know you have a boyfriend, too?"

Toby thought for a moment while the waiter poured coffee. "You know, I really don't know. We don't talk much about personal stuff around the office, but he probably does. They all probably do."

Sam finished the last of his crème brûlée. "How?"

"Because, Sam, I've been so very happy since I got back from Denver. It's something you can't hide, and they're smart enough to put two and two together."

Sam rubbed his ankle against Toby's calf. "Damn, I love you."

They bought a computer the next day.

On Sunday, they went out to their Las Palmas house to see how things were going. They were surprised to see that digging had begun on the new pool. The dirt that had been dug up was now covering the broken concrete in the hole where the old one had been.

"Man, these guys work fast," Toby said, looking in the hole. "I guess we can't change our minds now."

"You want to? We can stop them if you do."

Toby grinned. "I'll bet you would, too. No, Sam, I'm pretty happy with what we're going to get." He paused for a second. "Did you hear that? How easily that we're rolled off my tongue?"

Sam pulled him into a hug. "Yes, and it makes me very happy. Maybe... Well, maybe I've got the partner I think I've always wanted."

Toby attempted a shrug but couldn't quite pull it off, wrapped up in Sam's arms as he was. "Doesn't matter. You've got me."

In the late afternoon, they went out to the pool at the condo and poured themselves glasses of wine. "You know, Sam, I'm really getting to like this naked socializing. Maybe we shouldn't move out of here after all."

Sam patted him on the butt. "With that pool and shower and urinal you designed? No, I think we'll be happy in that house. And we'll have our own naked parties. Besides, I don't think we should sell the condo. That way, we could come here any time we want. We could use the gym, swim in the pool and drink the wine on Sunday."

"Really? You're not going to sell the condo?"

Sam shook his head. "I've been thinking about it, too, and, like you, how much I like these guys and the whole ambience of the place. So, unless you feel strongly otherwise, I think we should keep it."

"Agreed."

In the course of the afternoon and early evening they talked with most of the guys and thought again and again how pleasant the camaraderie was. It was something they really didn't want to give up.

During dinner Monday night, Sam asked Toby what he thought he should do. "After looking at that picture, I know the man isn't Martin. Maybe it's some kind of look-alike, but that doesn't matter. It's not Martin, and Martin's no longer here. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Toby wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Call the police. Dump it in their laps, and let them deal with it. That's their job." He shrugged. "Besides, there's nothing else you can really do."

"I guess you're right. They're probably going to laugh at me, maybe throw me out of the station house, but I have to do it."

He did it the next day. He called Officer Andy, who turned out to be on vacation and wouldn't be back until the following week. Sam was a little reticent about talking with anyone else, so he decided he'd just wait until Andy came back. After all, it wasn't as if he had any idea where Martin-the real one-was. When Toby came home from work, he agreed.

Their Internet connection was installed on Thursday, but of course it didn't work. The phone company said they'd get right on it.

When Sam went out to the house on Friday, he found trenches jack-hammered into the floor, especially in the kitchen and bathrooms but also in just about every other room. "What the hell is all this?" he asked Bill.

"New plumbing. Your unshaven buddy moved around all the stuff that uses water and gas so we have to put in new lines. New sewer lines as well."

"Well, why not run them through the walls or on the roof or something?"

Bill led him over to the outside wall of living room. "This is why," he said, tapping on it. "It's glass, floor to ceiling and almost wall to wall. Can't run plumbing through a glass wall."

"So the layout of the kitchen and bathrooms is really chiseled in stone-or rather concrete?"

"It is now. I hope you're going to be happy with it."

Sam shrugged. "I'm only half of who has to be happy with it. And with this kind of stuff, the junior half." He thought for a minute and got an idea. "Bill, could you guys mark where everything goes? Like with chalk or something? I'll bring Toby out tomorrow so he can make sure everything is just where he wants it. Could you do that?"

Bill laughed. "As long as your checkbook holds out, I can do anything you want. I'll put the guys on it right now."

As Sam was leaving, Bill came out to the car and handed him a couple of sticks of orange chalk. "It's David's idea. We'll do the layout on the floor in blue, and if anything needs to be changed, have Toby make corrections with this so we'll know what to do. Okay?"

Sam thought it was an excellent idea.

When Toby got home that evening, he checked the Internet connection and found that it still didn't work. He called the help-desk number and, after a half-hour wait, spoke to a guy who said that they were behind and a crew was working nights to get caught up. He promised that they'd be on line by tomorrow, Sunday, for sure. Toby was very polite to the guy but let off a lot of verbal steam after he hung up. Sam didn't say a word; he just pulled Toby into a hug and let him vent.

The next day they went out to the house and were pleasantly surprised. Not only had the workmen indicated what each trench was for and where it's pipe or cable would come out, they had outlined the footprints of the cabinets, appliances and fixtures as well.

Toby did have a few changes to make, but they were minor and probably the result of a simple miscommunication. They were finished in a couple of hours. Toby was very happy with the outcome.

It was very hot in the house, and by the time they were finished, sweat was dripping off both of them. They'd taken their shirts off, and Sam had lamented the fact that they couldn't take their shorts off as well and work naked. "It sure would be cooler, the sweat evaporating from our skin rather than just making our shorts wet," he said. "But if we take our pants off, sure as shootin', Andy or Tom or someone will wander in to see what we're doing."

Toby mopped his chest. "So? You've never been seen naked before?"

Sam laughed. "Well, I guess a few guys have seen me in that state."

"Besides, you don't have to worry about Dan and Tom. They've already seen you naked."

"When?"

"In that picture, silly. The one of you on the diving board?"

"I'd forgotten about that. Yeah, I guess I don't have any secrets from anybody."

"Well," Toby said, running his hand along Sam's fly, "not me, anyway."

When they were finished Sam suggested they go next door and see if they could bum a tall, cool, alcoholic drink. Toby concurred.

When they rang, Tom answered the door. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in, dripping wet. Come in, guys, come in. We're out by the pool."

They went through the house and out back, where the water misters were making the patio cool.

"I imagine you both need a tall gin and tonic," Tom said. "Go ahead and get in the pool while I fix them." He turned to Dan, who was lying on a lounge chair. "You ready for a refill?"

Dan nodded and held out his glass. Then he turned to Sam. "Well, go on. You heard the man. Get in the pool and lower that body temperature."

Sam looked at Toby and laughed. "You're right," he said, "there are no secrets." He stripped off his shorts and jumped in the water. Toby was right behind him.

Once Tom had set out the drinks, he shed his shirt and shorts and joined them. Dan followed, and the four of them spent a quarter hour or so in the cool water. When they got out, Dan said, "Don't bother with those shorts. Let the air dry you, it'll cool your innards."

They spent an hour, talking and sipping cool drinks, all four of them naked. When Sam described what they'd been doing at the house, Tom insisted on seeing it. "But don't get dressed yet," Dan said. "I've got to get something." He went inside and came back with two things. One was a digital camera, and the other was a silver-framed picture.

"I want to update the picture," he said, showing them the picture of Sam on the diving board. "We don't have a board, but I guess it'll do if you just stand over there at the edge of the pool."

Sam dutifully went to the indicated spot and posed as if he were about to dive into the pool. Dan took several shots and then asked Toby if he'd mind if he took a shot of both of them. Toby nodded and went over to Sam and put his arm around his shoulder. Sam did the same to Toby; they looked like a couple of grade-school best friends. Dan was delighted. Then they put their shorts on and went to inspect the house.

After the inspection, Sam asked if they'd like to go to dinner and suggested Boscoso. Everyone was agreeable, and so, after a quick trip home to change, they all four ended up having martinis and pasta in Boscoso's air-conditioned dining room .

When Sam and Toby got home, the Internet connection still didn't work.