“I just got a call from him,” says Clarence. “Boy is scared out of his mind. Thinks they’re going to kill him.”

“Who? Who’s going to kill him?”

“He’s not sure.”

I pull two beers out of the fridge and Clarence takes one.

“Where the hell is he? Van Buren just left here. He says Dante and Walker bolted. It looks bad.”

“I know it does, Tom.”

With the sun on the way down, we sit at the counter in the kitchen.

“Van Buren also implied that Dante and Walker were at the murder scene that night.”

“They got a witness?” asks Clarence.

“I can’t tell. He was being cute about it. Why the hell would Dante and Walker be going back there after what happened?”

“Dante says he can explain everything. But right now we got to get him to turn himself in. That’s why I’m here. He respects you, Tom. You talk to him, he’ll listen.”

Clarence stares at me. “Tom, please? I’ve never once asked you for a favor.”

“He tell you where they are?”

Clarence shook his head and looked hurt. “Wouldn’t even give me a number.”

I spread my hands wide. “What do you want to do, Clarence? Wait here and hope he calls again?”

“He says we should talk to his grandma. Dante says if Marie says it’s cool, he’ll give us a call.”

Chapter 21. Tom

I CAN FEEL right then and there that this is going real bad in a big hurry, and I should not be involved. But I go with Clarence anyway.

We climb into his big yellow Buick station wagon and head west through Amagansett and East Hampton, and just before the start of Bridgehampton’s two-block downtown, we turn right at the monument and go north on 114.

Stay on it long enough, the road leads to Sag Harbor, but along the way is the one enduring pocket of poverty left in the Hamptons. It’s called Kings Highway but is often referred to as Black Hampton. One minute you’re passing multimillion-dollar estates, the next minute shotgun shacks and trailer homes, old rotting cars on blocks like in the Ozarks or Appalachia.