Win studied the old man’s face and body language. Nothing. Most people assume that somehow you can tell when a man is lying to you—that there are clear-cut signs of deceit and that if you learn those signs, you can discern when someone is telling a lie or the truth. Those who believe such nonsense are just fooled all the more. Herman Ache was a sociopath. He had probably murdered—or more precisely, ordered the murder of—more people than Frank ever could. Frank Ache was obvious—a frontal assault easily spotted and thus taken down. Herman Ache worked more like a snake in the grass, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and thus was far more dangerous.

The tees on the seventh hole were up closer today, so Win passed on the driver in favor of his three-wood. “May I ask you a question about one of your business interests?”

Herman Ache gave Win the eye, and now, yes, the snake was not so hidden.

“Tell me about your relationship with Gabriel Wire.”

Even a sociopath can look surprised. “Why the hell would you want to know about that?”

“Myron represents his partner.”

“So?”

“I know in the past that you handled his gambling debts.”

“And you think that should be illegal? It’s fine if the government sells lottery tickets. It’s fine if Las Vegas or Atlantic City or a bunch of Indians take bets, but if an honest businessman does it, somehow that’s a crime?”

Win tried very hard not to yawn. “So, do you still handle Gabriel Wire’s gambling?”

“I can’t see how any of this is your business. Wire and I have legitimate business arrangements. That’s all you have to know.”

“Legitimate business arrangements?”

“That’s right.”

“But I’m confused,” Win said.

“About?”

“What possible legitimate business arrangements involve Evan Crisp guarding Wire’s house on Adiona Island?”

Still holding his driver, Ache froze. He handed it back to the caddie and snapped the white glove off his left hand. He moved closer to Win. “Listen to me,” he said softly. “This is not a place you and Myron want to interfere. Trust me here. Do you know Crisp?”

“Only by reputation.”

Ache nodded. “Then you know it won’t be worth it.”

Herman gave Win one more hard glare and returned to his caddie. He put his glove back on and asked for his driver. The caddy handed it to him and then headed toward the woods on the left because that was the real estate Herman Ache’s golf balls seemed to favor.

“I have no interest in hurting your business,” Win said. “I have no interest in Gabriel Wire, for that matter.”

“So what do you want here?”

“I want to know about Suzze T. I want to know about Alista Snow. I want to know about Kitty Bolitar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”