"Do you think," said the investigator, "there might be some stripers over at Cuttyhunk?"
"Maybe," said Tony. "And then again, maybe not. Why don't you go over there and see for yourself?"
"I believe I will, Tony," the investigator said.
A little before noon next day, the investigator walked down the main street of Vineyard Haven, another island town, and turned in at Bangs Market. Mr. Bangs himself, a strong, ruddy-complexioned man of 60 or so, was behind the counter slicing some summer sausage for an order.
"Mr. Bangs," said the investigator, "I don't suppose you remember me, but I spent some time here on the island a few years back and I used to come in here occasionally. I was always partial to your S.S. Pierce line of canned goods and that special olive oil you handle."
Mr. Bangs put the sausage on the scale, peered over his glasses and then cut another couple of slices.
"Your face looks familiar," he said, "but if you're looking for that special olive oil, you're out of luck. A man from Edgartown came in the other day and cleaned me out of my last six cans and I don't know just when I'll be able to get any more of it."
"Oh," said the investigator, "I'm not here looking for olive oil, Mr. Bangs. What I'm doing is conducting an investigation of the striped bass."
Betraying no emotion, Mr. Bangs wrapped up the sausage and looked for the next item on his order list.
"What I wanted to ask you, Mr. Bangs, sir," the investigator went on, "do you still have the grocery store over on Cuttyhunk Island?"