He signaled for the waitress and she came almost immediately, a young girl, very mod, like the other waitresses, the busboys, the girl in the muumuu. As he gave her money for the drinks and a tip, he asked her if she knew the woman he had been drinking with, and she smiled quizzically, wrinkling her nose.

“But you were with her,” she protested.

“I know her name, that’s all. I want to know more about her.”

The girl’s amusement began to die. “Oh, I guess I’ve seen her, but I don’t know her.”

On impulse, Hook took another five-dollar bill out of his wallet. “Ask some of your friends that work here, will you? Anybody can tell me about her, I’ll give them this.” He showed her the bill.

Nodding, but looking frightened now, she left him and went over to one of the bartenders, an older man who appeared to be in charge of things. She said something to him and he looked across the room at Hook and then back at the girl and shook his head. Then both of them returned to work, ignoring him. Hook waited a few minutes, finishing a cigarette. Then he got up and left.

Outside, the coolness of the night struck him as fresh as rainfall, even though it smelled of the sea, that fabled odor of fish and brine that to him was not half so sweet as the bouquet of spring clover. Above the palms across the street the moon had turned the deserted beach into an extension of itself, white and cold and barren.

He had crossed State Street and was halfway up the next block, heading toward the row of motels there, when he heard footfalls behind him. Turning, he saw one of the busboys from the restaurant coming after him, running across the street against the traffic light. By the time he reached Hook, he was almost out of breath.

“Mister, you serious about that five bucks?”

“Yes. Why? You know her?”

“Liz Madera? Sure. Who don’t?”

“I don’t.”

“She’s a swinger.”

“That, I know. Tell me what I don’t know.”

The boy was short and muscular, shivering in white chinos and a Hawaiian shirt. “Like what?”

“Whatever you can think of.”

The youth grinned, not very attractively. “For one thing, you won’t get anywhere with her. She’s Jack Douglas’s girl.”

“The man who runs for Congress?”

“Among other things.”

“What other things?”

“Like he’s just a wheel, that’s all. He’d be pretty tough competition.”

“Is he married?”

“Sure. He’s establishment, man. But not too establishment, if you know what I mean.”

It was something, perhaps everything. And anyway Hook was too exhausted to stand there any longer, so he took the five-dollar bill out of his pocket and gave it to the youth, who thanked him.

“One more thing,” Hook said. “Did you hear about the boy who was killed this morning, on the beach, north of town?”

“He jumped, didn’t he? The paper said he jumped.”