“No.”
“Boat type?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t think I can help you.”
“Evan is about six feet, longish hair, a hundred and eighty pounds and with a pretty girl.”
“That covers about half our people,” the woman said. Stone thanked her and they left.
“Time to wear out some shoe leather,” Dino said.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
They started to walk around Key West Bight, checking other marinas, but got nowhere.
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“I think that’s what we need,” Stone said, pointing at a boats-for rent sign.
“Feed me first,” Dino said, pointing at a sign that said raw bar.
“Okay, but keep an eye peeled for Keating.”
“I only saw his back,” Dino said, “but if I see a familiar back, I’ll let you know.”
“What would I do without you?” Stone asked. 2 9
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STON E A N D D IN O walked into the Raw Bar, a large, opensided barn of a place, which was rapidly filling for lunch. They were given the last free table along the waterfront, overlooking the marina area. As they sat down, Dino looked over the railing into the water and pointed.
“Hey, look at that,” he said.
Stone peered into the water and saw half a dozen large fi sh measuring about four feet each, swimming among a lot of smaller ones.
“I guess they know where to go for lunch,” he said. Dino was perusing the menu. “I want conch something,” he said.
“What have they got?”
“How about conch fritters?”
“Sounds okay to me.”
A fetching girl—all the waitresses were fetching—took their order and brought them glasses of iced tea.
“How long have we got to find this guy and get him to sign?”
Dino asked.
“A week, give or take.”
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