“Duval’s boat,” he said, when he reached the sea wall.
“That guy seems pretty well known around here,” I said.
“Sure is,” he said, and grinned.
I lit a cigarette and gave him one.
“Kind of quiet here,” I said, looking up and down the deserted beach.
“Sure is,” Mac said. “No one bothers us. We get along.”
“I guess you do,” I said.
“Hear there was some excitement over at Paradise Palms,” he said, after a pause. “A political killing. The radio’s been yelling its head off.”
“I heard that too,” I said.
“I reckon it’s no business of ours.”