CHAPTER NINE
“Too bad the kid’s description isn’t going to help much,” Ald stated as he, Rey and I sat at a beachside café, watching people amble past.
The weather had changed dramatically since noon; it was pleasantly warm with no breeze or clouds. Sunset was but a few minutes away and several tourists were taking photos from various vantage points—beach, boardwalk, balconies.
Rey picked up a fat fry, jammed it into a SUV-sized mound of ketchup, and scrutinized it like a mycologist studying culture in a screw-top tube. “He earns a quick twenty bucks to run in and order flowers, pay with cash and provide a note regarding address and drop-off details. And all he remembers is that the guy who ‘hired’ him was of average height and build with dark hair peeking from beneath a beanie and dark
