McDermott once again hid his eyes behind his Ray-Bans. He had recovered his composure.
“Okay, we’ve got some time until tonight,” continued the lieutenant. “How about watching a couple of players golf?” he suggested.
“Thank you, Lieutenant, but I don’t know a thing about golf. Plus, I’m dead, I didn’t sleep at all last night. And I can’t stand the heat and the humidity. I’d rather go back to the motel and rest.”
“Please yourself. I have a car and the driver can take you back and pick you up again later. How about seven thirty?”
“Okay, you’ll tell me about the golf later? See you tonight, Lieutenant.”
Sweeney unwound his legs from under the green table using the sand wedge as a cane.
He was whistling an improvised jig as he left the white tent.
What a strange bird! thought McDermott
