“Hey!” Chad called out in protest as they passed another target-rich restaurant.
“Thought you guys might enjoy this one,” Smith ducked through a battered door of a covered marina slip—the boathouse framework so aged that it was a miracle it still stood. The next heavy rainfall—which happened all the time in the tropics—might bring it down.
“Wow!” Richie sounded as if he was going to give birth to kittens on the spot. Duane’s eyes finally adapted to the shadowed interior.
“Cripes!” He felt as wholesome as Richie, but Duane didn’t know what else to say.
The boat inside the shelter was long and low. Actually, it wasn’t that low, but it was so long it was difficult to get perspective on it. It was a hundred feet of sleek. Its three decks—waterline with portholes plus two upper decks—were s
