Meaning breakfast at Deacon’s, down by the wharf, and then nine holes of golf—sometimes at Montecito, sometimes over at Hidden Oaks. Vincent nosed them forward and waited as the automatic gate rolled aside. So far he liked the guy—liked that he set high standards for himself, but didn’t impose them on others: here he was in a white suit and string tie, looking like Colonel Sanders, but he didn’t mind Vincent wearing shorts and flip-flops, shirt still a little damp from the ocean.

Lamar said, ‘They teach you how to surf in the Navy?’

Naval service was his official cover story, which wasn’t actually shading the truth too much. He’d done seven years with them before the official transfer. He pulled out of the driveway and turned right, aiming for the long clockwise route that would take them along the waterfront.

He said, ‘No, they taught me to swim okay, but board riding wasn’t really in the syllabus.’

What he found funny about Lamar was that he never mentioned Erin. Vincent figured if he had a daughter who got invited on CNN, he’d be inclined to boast about it. But the only time they’d talked about her was when he’d asked Lamar if there was an active threat against her, whereupon the old man had just scoffed and said she was paranoid. Vincent got the distinct impression that Erin was not a topic for discussion.

Lamar said, ‘I wondered if it was like Apocalypse Now. You know that scene where they do the helicopter raid, hit the waves afterward?’

Vincent thought back to it. ‘Is that when he does his “napalm in the morning” line?’

Lamar smiled, a bright row of false teeth. ‘Yeah, you might be right.’

Vincent said, ‘I met a few characters like that. The Robert Duvall guy, I mean. Shirt off and liking the destruction. But I didn’t see a lot of coast. Learned to surf in New York, actually.’

‘Oh really? Bet that’s a sentence doesn’t get said too often.’

‘No, well, you won’t get a wave in Manhattan, but there’re places around. I used to go down to Coney Island, Rockaway sometimes, catch the subway out there.’

Lamar nodded. ‘My brother learned when he was in the service. I’ve got a photo of him riding a board at Waikiki. October ’41, it was. Then Pearl Harbor happened, and I don’t imagine there was much time for having fun.’

He’d mentioned a brother in the service a couple of times now, but Vincent didn’t want to get into battle stories.

Lamar said, ‘Anyway.’ He slapped his thighs, a tidy drum patter. ‘Give us some music.’

‘What do you feel like?’

Lamar said, ‘How about The Blue Nile?’