He padded over to the counter, stood facing me. His sun-cracked skin looked like he’d been left out in the elements fifty years too long, the wrinkles as deep as river channels. I thought the hat was taking the nautical theme a bit too far, but maybe it came with the job, like blue shirts at the Apple Store. In a far corner, an old office phone sat on a desk piled high with newspapers, boating mags, and more thick rope tied in odd knots. After a full sweep, my eyes settled on a large glass container down the counter a ways. The sign on it read TIPS. I wondered what the man possibly did to warrant a gratuity.

I handed him my card and waited while he read it. He looked from it to me, then blinked, trying to work it through. Maybe he’d never encountered a working PI before, or was it that I was a female PI? Or perhaps he just didn’t get a lot of black chicks down here in the old marina office.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” I said, “about Tim Ayers.”

He flicked a look at the card again. “Huh, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a private peeper. You got cop written all over you. My Spidey senses must be off.” He held out his free hand for a shake. I took it.

“Quint Anderson. Cap, if you want to get familiar.” He pointed to the captain’s hat, then took a full, and very obvious, sweep of me. “Nope, you don’t look like a peeper at all.”

I met his eyes again when they made their way back up to my face. I’d already taken my sweep when he ambled over. Only fair.

“Tim Ayers,” I repeated.

“Heard you.”

Cap looked like he drank a lot. His nose was splotchy, bulbous, and spider veins crisscrossed flushed cheeks. I got a faint whiff of hard liquor, masked some by bath soap and aftershave. Watery dark eyes met mine and held. Sneaky. That’s how I’d describe the look. Like he was a banker of secrets, but dealt only in deposits, not withdrawals. That didn’t bode well for my getting anything useful, but I wasn’t about to let things go without at least giving it a shot.

His chin flicked upward; he cocked his big head. “You working for somebody, or just nosing around freelance?”

I smiled. “I’m not at liberty to say. What can you tell me about Ayers? Who’d he hang out with around here? Did he have any run-ins?”