Keeping the slouch, I looked around the bathroom as I rinsed my hands. One old guy stood at a urinal, a young kid was washing up. Nothing there to worry about. I grimaced into the mirror, set the hat just so, and headed out of the bathroom.

The entrance I had come in was to the left, I darted right and ducked into a little shop selling candy and books. At the end of the shop was a door that led to the gas station. As soon as I stepped through the door, a white-and-green cab shot out of a parking spot and came right at me, swerving at the last second so that the front passenger door stopped right at my hip. I opened the door, looked in, and hesitated a moment before jumping inside. Off we went, hitting the northbound exit of the highway.

“Why the hell is she here?” I said, thumbing toward the backseat.

“The lady insisted on coming,” said Joey Pride.

“We have to drop her somewhere.”

“Don’t think she’ll be dropped.”

“Monica,” I said angrily. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You told me to meet Joey,” she said.

“And give him the message and then let him go off without you.”

“That second part sort of slipped my mind.”

“Monica.”

“Charlie is going to tell you what he knows about my sister.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I need to be there. I told you I waited long enough for the truth.”

“You couldn’t get rid of her, Joey?”

“I had about as much success as you’re having. But it makes the view in my rearview a hell of a lot nicer, I’ll tell you that.”

“And why are we in a cab? I told my father to tell you to borrow something different.”

“I did. From my friend Hookie.”

“But it’s still a cab.”

“Not my cab. So where are we headed?”

“To a morgue, most likely. This is a foul-up. This is a complete mess. Were you followed?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“I got the eyes of a falcon. We’re clean.”

“For the time being. We’re not going to be able to get rid of you, Monica?”

“No,” said Monica.

“Crap. Okay, I have to make a call. Joey, keep going north until we reach 295 East, then go over the Delaware Memorial Bridge. We’re heading into the Garden State.”

We were traveling east, toward familiar turf. If all was going as planned, by now Skink would have led my tail through Baltimore and toward Washington, D.C. I figured two more thugs in the nation’s capital wouldn’t make much difference. Elect them to the Senate, turn them into whips, we might actually get something done.

“It would be quicker if we take the expressway,” said Joey.

“No, this road is perfect,” I said, and it was, a two-lane jobber heading through small towns and farmers’ fields, past small produce markets selling tomatoes and leeks. We went slowly, and every now and then we pulled over to the side of the road and let people pass. No one seemed to be hanging back with us.

“I ain’t seen Charlie for fifteen, twenty years,” said Joey. “He’s been more memory than real, a wisp of smoke. Don’t know if I should hug him or slug him in the face.”

“A little of both, I expect,” I said. “I talked to the prosecutors about you, Joey.”

“And what did them little darlings say?”

“They agreed to a deal. They’ll give you immunity if you tell them everything you know about the robbery.”

“Just the robbery?”

“And the girl.”

“Yeah, I figured she would be involved. What does immunity mean?”

“They can’t do anything to you.”

“Then maybe, after all is said and done, I don’t deserve no immunity.”

“There’s a lot of ways you can make amends for whatever happened, other than going to jail.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me how, Reverend.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Thirty years ago you tried to save your life through a crime. That didn’t work out so well. Maybe this time you can save it by looking clear-eyed at what you are and what you did. Maybe you can make amends by becoming something better based on the truth.”

“I’d rather do the time.”

“You know what it’s like inside better than I do.”

“You made that deal for me?”

“Yes.”

“What do I owe you?”

“You’re paying it off as we drive. Pull in over there.”

“It’s empty.”

“Perfect,” I said.

We were at an abandoned farmer’s stand on the left side of the road. Schmidty’s Farmer’s Market was long deserted, the stand falling in on itself, the signs advertising summer corn and vine-ripened tomatoes weathered and worn. I got out of the taxi and did a quick inspection. The weeds and trees on either side of the lot had encroached upon the center, leaving it like an oasis within the middle of an overgrown woods. Between the collapsing structure and the road was a gravel lot, and behind the stand was another parking area, this second lot overgrown with high grasses and stalky weeds. To the side of the stand was a picnic table that was still in decent shape. Apparently the place was now used as a rest stop for travelers caught in Sunday-evening traffic driving home from the shore.

“About how far are we from the ocean?” I asked Joey.

“Maybe twenty,” said Joey.

“Okay, I have to make a call.”

“Does he know I’m with you?” said Joey.

“He will,” I said.

I went off to the side of the stand, looked around again and flipped open my phone.

“Let’s go,” I said when I had climbed back into the cab. “Keep heading east and follow the signs to Ocean City.”

CHARLIE WAS sitting on a bench on the boardwalk. He was wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses and his usual socks in sandals. His idea of a disguise. After what happened last time, this would not have been my first pick for a meeting place, or my second or my third, but Mrs. Kalakos told me to find Charlie at the same location and hadn’t given me much choice about it, so here I was.

“Nice costume,” I said as I sat beside him and handed over a vanilla custard I had bought him.

“I look like I drive NASCAR. Do I look like I drive NASCAR?”

“The sandals cinch it. Couldn’t you have picked someplace different?”

“Who would think we’d be dumb enough to meet at the same corner of the boardwalk?”

“Not I,” I said.

“Everything arranged?”

“Yes, it is.”

“What’s the deal?”

“You answer all their questions, don’t hold anything back, tell them everything you know about the Warrick gang and the robbery, especially about your old friend Teddy Pravitz, and you’ll be given protective custody with no more than a couple of years. After that, if you want witness protection, you can get it.”

“Can they back out once I show up?”

“Not really. I have the offer in writing, and I’m going to take a precaution to make sure they keep their word.”

“I have to tell them everything?”

“Yes.”

“Even about the girl?”

“That’s the most important part.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’ve been holding it in for a long time now, haven’t you, Charlie?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You once told me your life had turned to crap. I think it’s because of what happened to the girl and the way it’s twisted you around, the way it twisted all of you. You wanted to do that robbery to start a new life, but look at the life you ended up with, more crime, more filth. And then flight, turning yourself into a vagabond. It’s all because of the girl. You can’t start anew without coming to grips with the crimes of your past.”

“What does my mom say?”

“She just wants you home. To say good-bye.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She looks pretty chipper, actually. She wanted to show me her knife.”

“I told you from the start she’d outlive us both. What about that guy you set me up with? What was his name? Lilac?”

“Lavender.”

“Right.”

“Here’s the story. I set it up so that your agreement with the government does not require that you give them the painting. The only thing that can screw up your deal with the government is if you don’t tell them the entire truth. Selling the painting to Lavender Hill could constitute a crime not covered by the agreement. Lying about selling the painting could screw up your plea deal. But the amount of money realized could be enormous. I can’t make the decision for you, but I can relay any message you want to send to Mr. Hill. Put it in an envelope without showing it to me, and I’ll get it to him. What’s in the message and how it works out after that is up to you.”