Chapitre 7: Chapter 7

Hugo Waite.

Philip Manuxet.

Louis Aquino—victim.

It was a short list anyway, but that last name rubbed Vergil wrong. The Manuxet was a river somewhere around these parts and it seemed almost too obviously a fake name. Distracted by his notebook, he walked right into the back of Hogan and they both nearly stumbled into the carcass on the beach. It might have been a porpoise or a dolphin in life, but now it was little more than ragged rot stuck to somegnawed bones. He grabbed Hogan’s hand involuntarily and hauled him a step away from the stink before noticing his impropriety. Hogan chuckled at his blush. “Watch it, buttons.”

With their business concluded, Hogan shook hands with the foreman and if he hadn’t been so fixated on the other man’s hands, Vergil likely wouldn’t have noticed him slipping an envelope of cash up a jacket sleeve. The foreman scowled and tried to reach for his own wrist, but Hogan shook his head. “Lost wages for today. Got to keep the boys fed, right?”