I had a whole six irons in pay from my time on the Hurricane. With the two still in my stomach, I was a wealthy man. Okay, not man, Quinlan. Okay, not wealthy either. I could survive for a few days if I had to pay for a hotel. Like it or not, I was going to have to get back on a boat quickly. But I couldn’t go back to the dock now. The cops would certainly remember me and the trunk. I could change my appearance, but not the trunk. Or could I?