Her boss is a former Deckie, as the company's workers call themselves.

They were ashamed that he was their son and not Deckie.

Deckie's eyes glazed over and he began looking toward the house.

If Deckie even went to the room.

Only just in time, he managed to seize the deckie's shoulder and arrest the blow before it was struck.

He knew Deckie was out somewhere because his stuff was still piled on his bed.

Deckie walked around the pool toward him.

Paulie said all that, but not until Deckie was on the other side of the pool, walking into the poolhouse.

Shasa stood back and nodded to the deckie.

The deckie glared at the impatient young officer.

Paulie thought he was joking, like old friends joke with each other, but Deckie seemed to take umbrage.

So Paulie turned and walked away from Deckie.

He was trying to think of why it was he didn't kill Deckie when he had the chance.

"Celie and I were worried about you," Deckie said.

I didn't kill Deckie that day.

He never saw Deckie again.

It was not that he hated his relatives-- except for Deckie he didn't think they were particularly evil.

"Till one of them drops dead of a heart attack on the tennis court and the widow sues Deckie for making him play."

"Nobody will believe you," said Deckie.

The deckie pushed the door open wider and ignored everything: the door, the tools, the bench, the bosun.

Celie shrieked and pulled away from Deckie, looking frantically for the top of her swimsuit, which was floating about ten feet out.

Death seeped out of Paulie, reaching for Deckie.

Deckie looked faintly bored, as though he had to answer these stupid questions all the time but he had been raised to be polite.

"His employees won't have to try to lose in order to suck up to Deckie," Uncle Howie said.