Stone returned to the car, where Dino was waiting, and got in.
“Nice lady,” Dino said.
“Yes,” Stone replied, “she is.”
“Can Tommy and I buy you a drink?” Dino asked, pulling away from the terminal.
“You certainly can,” Stone said.
THE THRE E O F them sat at the bar at the Key West Yacht Club and raised their glasses.
“To complicated cases,” Tommy said. “They’re the most fun.”
They drank.
“I have news from the state cops,” Tommy said. “This afternoon the cops in Hobe Sound found a woman in a stolen car behind an abandoned service station, one bullet in the head. No I.D., but she fits the description of Gigi Jones Keating.”
“That’s interesting news,” Dino said.
“There’s more: She had an apartment in South Beach, and they searched it. Found a stash of mixed drugs, too much for personal use. They figure that she was in business with Charley Boggs in some way, and that’s how the big stash got left on Evan’s boat.”
“She was a piece of work,” Dino said.
“Sounds like her hit man didn’t trust her,” Stone said. “Any word on him?”
“The state cops tell me Manny lawyered up right away. My guess is he’ll make a deal before he goes to trial, and then we’ll fi nd out who the guy is.”
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Dino shook his head. “Not Manny,” he said. “He knows that at his age he’ll die in prison, deal or no deal. He won’t rat the guy out.”
“By the way,” Tommy said, “the state guys said the only reason they caught Manny was he forgot to take off his belt at airport security, and the buckle set off the metal detector. Except for that, he’d be in Mexico now.”
Everybody had a good laugh.
“Are you guys really leaving tomorrow morning?” Tommy asked.
“At long last,” Dino replied, “though I hate to go.”
“We’ve loitered long enough,” Stone said.
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