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sidewalk kiosks mingled with the ocean breezes. Palm trees lined the busy avenue, shading a stream of pedestrians from the morning sun. A river of dawdlers in flip-flops, he thought. Their slow progression would have irritated Jack at some earlier time, but not today. There were no deadlines, no appointments. Life was on temporary standstill.
    Clothing stores were plentiful on Kalakaua, and Sommers needed clothes, but he was also wary of laying out too much money in any one store and becoming a conspicuous consumer who might stick out in some shopkeeper’s memory . Buy a little here, buy a little there, he thought. Never too much at one place. Nothing too extravagant. Try not to return to the same place too often . New rules to live by.
    Sommers needed to make Room 212 more livable. He bought an assortment of cleaning supplies and spent the afternoon scrubbing down the room. New bedding, new pillows, new pots and pans, and even a new window curtain helped to erase the gritty feeling he’d experienced when he first opened the door. He told Glenn that it would be unnecessary for the housekeeping staff to care for his room, that he would do it himself, thank you very much. Glenn responded, “You’re talking to the housekeeping staff, and you’re very welcome.”
    The Coral Reef had no Internet service, but the coffee shop around the corner had free Wi-Fi. The library down the block had free Wi-Fi. He could get by. For transportation, a four-year-old, blue Acura in excellent condition was available at a nearby dealership. Sommers purchased the car with funds wired from his Panamanian account and titled the car in the name of Eugene Wilson at his Kaiulani Avenue address. His vehicle registration provided him with yet another ID. Things were starting to come together for him, and he was sure it would not be too much longer. He expected to hear good news any day.
    *   *   *
    D AN GIBSON, A BUNDLE of nerves since Harrington went missing, received a call from CPD detective O’Herrin. “Did you locate Dennis Harrington?” Dan asked cautiously, fearing the worst.
    “Not yet, but we found his car. It was parked at the North Avenue Beach.”
    “At the beach? Why would it be at the beach?”
    O’Herrin paused. “We saw no indication of foul play. There may be all sorts of explanations. All we know is that his car was left in the lot at North Avenue. It was snow covered and locked. We had it towed to the pound at Randolph. I just thought I’d let you know. If you have a key, you can come and pick it up.”
    “Will you keep looking for Dan? Will you canvass the area?”
    “The immediate area is a vacant, snow-covered beach. We did take a look around, but we didn’t see anything. If you’re talking about canvassing the people who live in the high-rises across Lake Shore Drive, no, sir, we do not intend to do that. But we’ll keep his MP file open.”
    “Is it against the law for me to post signs in the area? You know, like, ‘Call me if you have information.’”
    “I don’t see the harm, sir.”
    *   *   *
    J ENKINS HURRIEDLY ASSEMBLED HIS firm’s executive board. The e-mail was short and to the point: Emergency meeting in the conf. room. 2 pm. Serious situation. No excuses.
    “Who owns this Loan Services account?” a partner asked after Gil had narrated his story.
    “We don’t know yet,” Gil said. “I’ve requested all of the information from Exchange. It should be here soon.”
    “Who’s at fault here, Walter?” another partner said. “Is this our fuckup?”
    Jenkins gestured for Gil to answer.
    “I hate to keep saying this, Preston,” Gil said, “but we don’t know yet. There may be several explanations for the missing funds.” He counted them off on his fingers. “One, the money may, in fact, be sitting at the bank and the bank is wrong, they’ll find their error and straighten it out. Hell, it might be a firestorm over nothing. Two, there could be some glitch in the Internet transfer