“Inside,” the Saint said, “the creeps are giving to Esteban. I don’t know if you’d call that a fair exchange.”
He looked up as a waiter arrived.
“Esteban’s compliments, sir. Would you and the lady care for anything?”
“Very handsome of Esteban,” the Saint said. “We’ll have double Manhattans made with a good bourbon, and—”
He broke off as a flat splat! broke the silence off in the direction of the sea, seeming to come from a clump of magnolia trees.
“What was that?” Patricia breathed.
“Probably a backfire, miss,” the waiter said. “Somebody having trouble with a car.”
“On account of driving it into the sea?” Simon said, and swung a leg over the rail.
“Could a motorboat do that?” Pat asked.
“No, darling. Come on.”