“There are traces of cocaine in the van, but Evan’s car is clean. They fi gure Boggs’s stash is near, and Evan is there to buy, so they haul everybody in. Evan’s story is he’s having dinner at a restaurant called Antonia’s, on Duval Street, and he’s just parking there. There’s a walkway from that parking lot to Duval. Tommy checks Antonia’s, and sure enough, Evan has a reservation there.

“Asked about what words were exchanged between Evan and Boggs, Evan says he was just asking the time, since he forgot to put his wristwatch on after showering.”

“So Tommy cuts Evan and Gigi loose.”

“Right. Charley Boggs, too.”

“Did you ask where we could fi nd Boggs?”

“He lives on a houseboat in Garrison Bight. You got that map?”

Stone produced the map, but their conch fritters arrived.

“Eat ’em while they’re hot,” the waitress said.

Stone dipped a fritter into some red sauce and took a bite. “Hey, good!”

Dino was trying one, too. “Kinda chewy, the bits of conch, but lots of fl avor.”

They finished the fritters and ordered key lime pie, then Stone spread out the map. “Here’s Garrison Bight,” he said.

“That’s where the yacht club is, too, Tommy says. We’re meeting him there at seven.”

They ate the key lime pie.

“I could get used to this,” Dino said.

Stone waved for the check. “Let’s go rent that boat.”

THE BOAT WAS an 18-foot Boston Whaler, a fl at-bottomed fi berglass craft, with a 40-horsepower outboard attached.

“You know how to handle this?” the renter asked, handing Stone the keys.

“Yep.” Stone stepped into the boat, checked the fuel tank and started the engine. “How do we get to Garrison Bight?” he asked. The renter spread out a chart. “You go out into the harbor and keep to your right, past the old submarine base over there. You go under a bridge and straight ahead, past some Navy family houses, and your first right turn is into Garrison Bight.”

He handed Dino the chart and pushed them off. Stone got under way slowly. “Let’s stop at the fuel dock,” he said.

“All the boaters end up there sooner or later.”

“Whatever you say,” Dino said, settling into the seat ahead of the steering pedestal. They were sheltered from the sun by a Bimini canvas top.

Stone pulled up to the dock, showed the photo of Keating to the man and got a negative response. They pushed off again, then spent an hour motoring from boat to boat, hoping to get lucky.

“No luck,” Dino said finally. “Let’s go see Garrison Bight.”

Stone took one more look at the chart, then motored past the breakwater. “Before we do, let’s go take a look at the boats at anchor.”