They’d spread tarps on the grass in the very spot where I’d first made their acquaintance. Dandy was stretched out on his sleeping bag and Pearl was sprawled on a blanket. A third fellow had joined them, and while I didn’t get a good look at him, I wondered if he was going to be a regular now that Felix was gone. I drove past them and pulled into the public lot, where I parked and got out.

The makeshift memorial that had sprung up in the wake of Terrence Dace’s death was looking forlorn. The jars of wildflowers were still grouped together in the sand, but the water was gone and flowers themselves were wilted. The tower of carefully balanced stones had been dismantled. There was no sign of a rock sculpture for Felix, but he’d died in the hospital whereas Terrence had died on the beach. I couldn’t even pretend to understand the unspoken rules for honoring the fallen comrades of those who had no homes.

Dandy watched me approach. Pearl ignored my arrival, except for the face she made, which expressed equal parts disdain and indifference. I suspected she was still miffed at me for not rushing to comfort her during her outburst at the news of Felix’s demise. She paused to light a cigarette and then continued sipping from a soda can that was doubtless laced with whiskey.

I paused on the path within range of them. “Mind if I sit down?”

Dandy moved his backpack. “Make yourself at home.”

He was nicely turned out; fresh shirt, a sport coat only slightly threadbare along the cuffs. As far as I could tell he hadn’t been drinking. Then again, he held his liquor well and he might have been covering. At least there was no pint bottle in sight and when Pearl offered him the soda can, he declined.

As I sat down, Dandy introduced me. “This is Kinsey. She’s a good friend of ours.”

“They call me Plato, the preacher man,” he said. He doffed an imaginary cap and his smile showed a mouth devoid of teeth. Plato was emaciated, a good sixty-five years old, with a frizzy head of gray hair and a long unkempt beard and mustache. His ears were crusty along the edges as though dusted with powdered sugar. His face had that odd red-brown hue that suggested a life spent outdoors without a proper slathering of SPF 15.

I said it was nice meeting him and he said words to the same effect.

That settled, I sat on the section of tarp Dandy’d cleared for me. The ground was damp and hard and even with a layer of plastic and a sleeping bag on top of that, I wasn’t sure how to arrange myself in any semblance of ease. Nor was I clear on how I’d get to my feet again. “I have news about Dace.”