Tucked among all the corporate braggadocio was Garvey’s educational history. He’d completed two years of college at Cal State Northridge but hadn’t graduated. Maybe that’s why he’d bothered to list his high school. And the fact that he’d been student body treasurer during his senior year.

University High.

I checked with the reference desk and found that the library maintained three decades of local yearbooks in the reference section. Uni was as local as it got.

Finding the right volume wasn’t hard. I estimated Garvey’s age and nailed it on the second try.

His graduation picture revealed a full-faced, acne-plagued eighteen-year-old with long, wavy hair, wearing a light-colored turtleneck. Sandwiched between the top of the sweater’s collar and the boy’s meaty chin was a puka-shell necklace. His grin was mischievous.

Listed under his picture were memberships in the Business Club, the “managerial staff” of the football team, and something called the King’s Men. But there was no mention of his being treasurer. According to the Student Council page, the treasurer was a girl named Sarah Buckley. Thumbing through the three preceding yearbooks taught me that Garvey Cossack had never served in any student-government capacity.

Petty fib for a middle-aged millionaire; that made it all the more interesting.

I located Robert “Bobo” Cossack’s headshot one class back. He’d come to photo day wearing a black shirt with a high collar and a choker-length chain. Equine face, hair darker and even longer than his brother’s, a more severe blemish. Bobo wore a sullen expression and his eyes were half-shut. Sleepy or stoned—or trying to look the part. His attempts to grow a beard and mustache had resulted in a halo of dark fuzz around his chin and spidery wisps above his upper lip.

No affiliations below his picture other than the King’s Men.

Also in the junior class was a very skinny Bradley Larner, wearing tinted aviator glasses, a button-down shirt, and peroxide surfer-do that obscured half his face. The part that was visible was as dispirited as Bobo Cossack’s.

Another King’s Man.

I searched the yearbook for mention of the club, found a listing in the roster of school service organizations but no details. Finally, in a breathless account of the homecoming game I spotted a reference to “the revelry, high jinks (and other good stuff) perpetrated by the King’s Men.”

An accompanying snapshot showed a group of six boys at the beach, wearing bathing trunks and striped beanies and clowning around with cross-eyed grins, goofy poses, behind-the-head rabbit ears. The beer cans in their hands had been blacked out clumsily. In one case, the Miller logo was still visible. The caption: Surf’s Up! but the King’s Men crave other liquid entertainment! Partying at Zuma: G. Cossack, L. Chapman, R. Cossack, V. Coury, B. Larner, N. Hansen.