“Yes, sir.”

“His name?”

“Scout McIlvey.”

Trixle takes out his handkerchief and blows his nose. His jacket is too small. It pulls across his back, making his muscles bulge and his shoulders pinch together. He puts his handkerchief back in his pocket and looks down at his clipboard. “Supposed to be on the one o’clock boat. You understand that you must get a signed permission for the exact boat a visitor is on?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you must meet the boat your visitor is taking?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And keep your visitor with you at all times?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not sure who let him on-”

“What do you mean, sir, who let him on? He’s here now?” I ask.

“Not now. No. Without the correct paperwork, I had to send him on his way.”

“You sent him away?”

Janet can’t cover her smile now. It’s popping off her face. She lives for stuff like this.

“He’s not supposed to be on the ten o’clock. What did I just explain to you?”

“Mr. Trixle, please… Scout was here and now he’s gone?”

He nods his pin head. “Without the correct John Hancock I had no choice but to-”

I’m practically flying down the switchback, my feet barely making contact with the road. But I don’t need to get too far before I see the Coxe, our ferry, on its way back to San Francisco.

The boat was in the dock for twenty whole minutes before it headed out again. Trixle had waited until they weighed anchor to come find me. Of course he did.

4. MURDERERS AND MADMEN

Same day-Monday, August 5, 1935

I head for San Francisco on the next boat, but Scout isn’t waiting for me at Fort Mason. I’ll bet Trixle didn’t bother to tell him there’d been a mix-up on the time. I’ll bet he just said Scout didn’t have permission to visit.

Scout doesn’t have a phone, so I have to walk all the way to his house in the Marina. When I find him, he takes out the letter I wrote him with the ferry time on it. In between the one and the colon is a blotch of ink that kind of looks like a zero. He thought it was 10:00 instead of 1:00.