The next day, Saturday, I cruised the beach area hoping to see my homeless pals. I didn’t intend to make this my life’s work. I thought the coroner’s office had a better chance than I did of picking up a proper ID on Terrence Last-Name-Unknown. However, since I’d scored the dead man’s first name the day before, my modest success was now spurring me on. Pearl’s antagonism was a motivating factor as well. If she’d known me better—or at all—she’d have realized that her surliness was more of a challenge than an insult.

I was still debating the purchase of the cigarettes Dandy had implied might open the floodgates where Terrence was concerned. I questioned the ethics of supplying the trio with tobacco products as a means to an end. Given current scientific research, I think it’s fair to point out that smoking’s not a healthy practice, and I was reluctant to foster the habit among those who could ill afford it. On the other hand, as Pearl had so tartly observed in our first conversation, what business was it of mine?

Having sacrificed my principles, I was left with the burning question (as it were) of which brand to buy. I had no way to evaluate the virtues of filtered cigarettes versus nonfiltered, or mentholated versus nonmentholated, so I was forced to throw myself on the mercy of the minimart clerk, who appeared to be fourteen years old—too young to buy cigarettes let alone to sell them to me.

I said, “I could use some help here. What’s the cheapest brand of cigarettes you have?”

He turned and picked up a pack of Carlton’s, which he placed in front of me.

“Is this what the homeless smoke?”

Without a change of expression he reached under the counter and pulled out a generic brand I’d never heard of.

“I need two more.” I’d already decided I’d better provide a pack for each so no feelings would be hurt.

He put two additional packs on top of the first.

“How much?”

“A buck nine.”

“That’s not bad,” I said. I don’t smoke myself, so I didn’t know what to expect.

“Each.”

“Each? Are you kidding me?”

He was not. I paid for the three packs and tossed them into my shoulder bag. Three dollars plus change seemed like a lot to pay, but maybe I could claim the deduction on my Schedule A when tax season rolled around.

There was no sign of the threesome as I drove along Cabana Boulevard on my way home.

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