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Prologue

NOVEMBER 1957

Even though killing Ray Waters had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, Laurie carried it off with a certain old-world grace. He poured a scotch for each of us, asked the ladies to step outside, and then shot Ray in the chest.

If Laurie had consulted me before he started blazing away I would have urged moderation, but I wasn’t altogether heartbroken when Waters copped it. I helped Laurie dump the body at sea, and later I took Waters’ car to Mascot airport, to make it look like he’d left the country. Which in a way he had.

We went our separate ways. Time passed. I started thinking we’d got away with it.