“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Stone said. “We were all street detectives, and only Dino prospered in the work. Tommy and I got out when we could.”

“Yeah, Stone, sure,” Tommy said. “I retired in good order; you got your ass bounced by Captain Leary and the other brass.”

“True enough,” Stone said. “There’s enough in that story for a novel. I’ll tell it to you when I’m drunker.”

“Speaking of drunk,” Spottswood said, “we’re all invited to a party on a yacht next to the club.”

“The traditional one?” Stone asked.

“She’s a 1937 Trumpy,” Spottswood said. “A member here, the local tennis pro, Chuck Chandler, just fi nished restoring her.”

“There’s that name again,” Stone said.

“Yeah, the Chuck Choke. He hasn’t lived it down yet.”

“Come on, let’s go see Chuck’s new boat,” Terry said. They walked out of the bar and around to the yacht; her name on the stern was Choke II. They stepped aboard into the large cockpit, which was filled with people drinking with both hands. A tall, deeply tanned man in his late thirties with sun-bleached hair made his way toward them, and Spottswood introduced them to Chuck Chandler. A pretty girl with a tray of champagne glasses came over and gave everybody one.

“She’s very beautiful,” Stone said to Chuck.

“Yes, she is,” Chuck replied, watching the girl walk away.

“I was referring to the yacht, but I can’t argue the point. She’s a Trumpy, I hear. The yacht, I mean.”

“Yep, 1937.”

“How’d you come by her?”

“I had a client at the Olde Island Tennis Club for some years, and he died last year. I had been helping him with the finish work on the restoration, and to my astonishment, he left her to me. She already had new engines and electronics, and her hull had been painted. All I really had to do to her was a hell of a lot of varnishing.”

“You did a very fine job,” Stone said, touching a bit of mahogany.

“How many coats?”

“Ten, and I’ll give her another coat every year. It’ll give me something to do in the summers, when business is slow.”

“You know your varnishing, Chuck.”

“I had a lot of experience restoring her predecessor, a thirtytwo-foot one-off that I lived aboard. This one is forty-four feet, and, believe me, the extra room is going to come in handy.”

“May I see below?” Stone asked.

Chuck led him down the companionway and into the saloon. There was a built-in dining table and a galley tucked into a corner, a chart table and seating for eight or so.

“Gorgeous,” Stone said.

“There’s just the one cabin, aft,” Chuck said, pointing the way. Stone found a handsome stateroom, white and mahogany, with a nice head and shower and a double berth. “Perfect bachelor quarters,” he said. “How many of these were built?”