Kintyre's head jerked up. After a few seconds:
"Okay. I'll just phone in to let the police know we're going."
They left the cottage and Guido took the wheel of Kintyre's old black sedan. "Any special route, Doc?" he inquired.
"Oh, I don't know. The coast highway, southbound."
"State One? It's a bastardly slow drive beyond the freeway."
"What have we to hurry for?"
Guido slid the car into smooth motion. One-handed, he lit a fresh cigarette. "My solitary trick," he said wryly.
"You sing pretty well," said Kintyre.
"Not as well as I might. That takes work, and I'm not that interested."
"What are you interested in?" Kintyre responded mechanically.