He looked toward the front door and saw three uniformed Palm Beach police officers, one of them Dan Griggs, vainly trying to fight their way through the onrushing crowd. Stone grabbed a post next to the bar and hung on for dear life. Finally, when most of the crowd had fled the restaurant, he was able to make his way through the stragglers to Dino, who was now bending over Bartlett, feeling at his throat for a pulse.

Frank and Margaret Wilkes stood huddled against the wall, Frank cradling his sobbing wife’s head on his shoulder. Margaret was spattered with blood. Bartlett’s date was nowhere in sight.

“He’s dead,” Dino said, holstering his weapon.

Stone looked around the restaurant for Lundquist but did not see him. Thad and his party were standing against the opposite wall of the restaurant, having wisely not joined the panicked crowd. Thad waved and called out, “We’re okay. Do what you have to do.”

Stone resumed his search for Lundquist and found him under an overturned table. Lundquist had taken a round in the chest, and he had been trampled by the crowd. His nose was badly broken where someone had stepped on it, and there was blood everywhere, but Stone found a pulse.

Griggs and his men finally got into the restaurant and rushed toward Stone.

“We need an ambulance,” Stone said as Griggs arrived. “Lundquist is still alive, but he’s bad. Bartlett is dead. Dino shot him almost at the same time Bartlett shot Lundquist.”

“There’s an ambulance outside,” Griggs said. He spoke into a handheld radio.

“There are probably some injured people in the crowd, too,” Stone said. “It got pretty ugly.”

A pair of EMTs made their way into the ruined room, toting a stretcher and equipment, and immediately began working on Lundquist. Stone stepped away to let them do their work. He followed Griggs over to where Dino stood.

Dino handed Griggs his gun. “You’re going to want this.”

Griggs nodded and examined Bartlett closely, picking up his weapon by its trigger guard and handing both guns to one of his officers.

Stone went to the Wilkeses, picking up a stray napkin along the way. He dabbed at the blood on Margaret’s face, and she barely seemed to notice.

“I want to get her home,” Wilkes said.

Stone turned to Griggs, who had heard, and nodded.

“Chief Griggs will want to talk to you in the morning,” Stone said.

“I saw it all,” Frank said. “Paul had a gun; it was all his fault.”

“Griggs and his men were waiting outside the restaurant to arrest him quietly, but the Minneapolis cop ruined it all.”

“Is he dead?”