Vincent looked over at the house and saw someone else coming out—a young guy, this time. Thirtyish, white, the same sort of simian heaviness as Sly Crow. This had to be a son, surely.

The guy asked a second time where Andre was, and then seemed to get it. He said, ‘You show up under false pretences, you can fuck off right now.’

Walking over fast to show he was serious, but the guy called Delroy had a hand up, patting the air. ‘Sly, easy, easy, easy.’

Vincent said, ‘Sly Junior, huh?’ Looked at him, nothing in his face, and said, ‘Yeah, clearly I am here under false pretences, because I’m not Andre, am I?’

Sly Junior came over and stood close, making his size apparent. He had that puffy look young guys get when they’re gym-built: dumbbell muscles keeping warm under beer fat. ‘You another cop?’

Vincent looked down at himself—the t-shirt, the shorts, the flip-flops—and was unsure how such an impression had been created. He said, ‘No.’

‘So what do you want?’ Voice softer now, brow furrowed. An air of querulous entitlement.

Vincent said, ‘All I’m doing is standing on your driveway, and you’re in my face. So you can understand how I’m wondering what exactly you’re into?’

That got a smile out of him. ‘As I understand it, someone shows up on your property, you don’t have to play Q-and-A with them. You can just say, Fuck off.’

Vincent let that have a few seconds, Delroy and the kid both seeming pretty happy with the line.

Vincent said, ‘You seen the news? Two guys broke into a house on Mountain Drive this morning and murdered three people.’

‘Yeah. I don’t get why you’re talking to me about it.’

Vincent said, ‘Because one of the dead guys is called Eugene Lamar. And about an hour before he died, your father had Andre Gutierrez shaking him down for two million dollars.’

‘I didn’t hear my name in any of that.’

‘It’s good you were listening. What I’m asking is: Where are they?’

No answer. The guy’s gaze was drifting, maybe trying to work out what he could get away with, given there was a cop out on the street.

Vincent said, ‘Hey, look at me.’

Sly Junior looked at him, head on an angle, face dripping with affront and disbelief. ‘Man, what the fuck do you want?’

Delroy said, ‘Junior, let’s just be cool. Man’s leaving in a moment, I believe.’