“Your mom keeps an old Honda Accord up by the main road entrance. She’s never used it as far as I know,” said Frank. “She left me a key to start it up every month or so to keep the battery charged. I can run up to the house and grab the key.”

“That would be great. Also, would you mind if I left my SUV in its place for a little while?”

“Not at all. All I ask is that you come and go during marina business hours. Seven in the morning to ten at night.”

“Works for me,” said Devin.

He returned to the packed parking lot and studied the cars before approaching the waterfront side of the restaurant. Devin was mostly looking for anyone hiding in their vehicles—the obvious giveaways on this sunny, hot day being rolled-down windows or running engines. By the time he reached the restaurant entrance, Devin felt confident that the parking lot was clear. A blast of air-conditioned air washed over him when he opened the door to the bar and main dining area, where a young woman greeted him from the adjacent hostess stand.

“How many in your party?”

“One,” said Devin. “Possibly two?”

“It’s about an hour wait for a table,” she said. “Or you can try and squeeze into the bar.”

He glanced toward the packed bar area, not thrilled with the idea of reading his mother’s file seated shoulder to shoulder among a boisterous crowd. Nor did he relish the thought of cracking open a dozen freshly steamed crabs under cramped conditions. He studied the faces for a moment, neither seeing anyone he recognized nor receiving a knowing glance that might indicate his mother’s friend was here. Devin could study the file outside while he waited for a table, then enjoy the leisurely meal his mother had promised. Maybe by then her friend would have arrived.

“I’ll put my name down for a table,” said Devin.

“Sure. What’s the name?”

“Devin.”

“You don’t happen to be Devin Gray, do you?” she asked.

“That’s me,” he said.

“Perfect. I have a table waiting for you,” she said. “Your friend’s been here about an hour and a half. I seated him ten minutes ago.”

He followed her into the bar area to a bank of three pub tables, tucked away next to the windows facing the parking lot. The tables hadn’t been visible from the hostess stand. Karl Berg sat at the farthest table, shaking his head and smiling. Devin wasn’t surprised to see Berg here.

“I’ll send someone over with menus,” she said.

“That would be great. Thank you,” said Devin.

Berg offered a hand, which Devin reluctantly shook before removing his backpack and sitting down. The man looked exhausted, his eyes red and watery behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

“You look like you drove through the night to get here,” said Devin.