blue sky. The streets were agreeably abustle but not swarming like the corridors of a hive, as sometimes they could be. San Franciscans, reliably a pleasant lot, were still in a holiday mood and, therefore, even quicker to smile and more courteous than usual.
Following a splendid lunch, having just left the fourth gallery on his list and strolling toward the fifth, Junior didn't at once see the source of the quarters. Indeed, when the first three rapid-fire coins hit the side of his face, he didn't even know what they were. Startled, he flinched and looked down as he heard them ring off the sidewalk.
Snap, snap, snap! Three more quarters ricocheted off the left side of his face-temple, cheek, jaw.
As the unwanted change pinged against the concrete at his feet, Junior-snap, snap-saw the source of the next two rounds. They spat out of the vertical pay slot on a newspaper-vending machine; one hit his nose, and the other rang off his teeth.
The machine, one in a bank of four, wasn't filled with ordinary newspapers, which cost only a dime, but with a raunchy tabloid aimed at heterosexual swingers.
The slamming of Junior's heart sounded as loud to him as mortar rounds. He stepped back and sideways, out of the vending machine's line of fire.
As though one of the quarters had dropped into his ear and triggered a golden oldie in the jukebox of his mind, Junior heard Vanadium's voice in the hospital room, in Spruce Hills, on the night of the day when Naomi died: 'en you cut Naomi's string, you put an end to the effects that her music would have on the lives of others and on the shape of the future
Another machine beside the first, stocked with copies of a sexually explicit publication for gays, fired a quarter that hit Junior's forehead. The next snapped against the bridge of his nose.
You struck a discord that can he heard, however faintly, all the way to the farthest end of the universe
Had Junior been chest-deep in wet concrete, he would have been more mobile than he was now. He had no feeling in his legs.
Unable to run, he raised his arms defensively, crossing them in front of his face, though the impact of the coins wasn't painful. Volleys flicked off his fingers, palms, and wrists. ? That discord sets up lots of other vibrations, some of which will return to you in ways you might expect
The vending machines were designed to accept quarters, not to eject them. They didn't make change. Mechanically, this barrage wasn't possible. ? and some in ways you could never see coming
Two teenage boys and one elderly woman scrambled across the sidewalk, grabbing at the ringing rain of quarters. They caught some, but others bounced and twirled through their grasping fingers, rolling-spinning away into the gutter. ? Of the things you couldn't have seen coming, I'm the worst
In addition to these scavengers, another presence was here, unseen but not unfelt. The chill of this invisible entity pierced Junior to the marrow: the stubborn, vicious, psychotic, prickly-bur spirit of Thomas Vanadium, maniac cop, not satisfied to haunt the house in which he'd died, not ready yet to seek reincarnation, but instead pursuing his beleaguered suspect even after death, capering-to paraphrase Sklent like an invisible, filthy, scabby monkey here on this city street, in bright daylight.
Of the things you couldn't have seen coming, I'm the worst.
One of the coin seekers knocked against Junior, jarring him loose of his paralysis, but when he stumbled out of the line of fire of the second vending machine, a third machine shot quarters at him.
Of the things you couldn't have seen coming, I'm the worst? I'm the worst? I'm the worst
Mocked by the silvery ping-ting-jingle of the maniac detective emptying his ghostly pockets, Junior ran.
Chapter 60
Kathleen in the candlelight, her ginger eyes a glimmer with images of the amber flame. Icy martinis, extra olives in a shallow white dish. Beyond the tableside window, the legendary bay glimmered, too, darker and colder than Kathleen's eyes, and not a fraction as deep.
Nolly, telling the story of his day's work, paused as the waiter delivered two orders of the crab-cake appetizer with mustard sauce. 'Nolly, Mrs. Wulfstan-enjoy!'
For the first few bites of crab in a light cornmeal crust, Nolly suspended their conversation. Bliss.
Kathleen watched him with obvious amusement, aware that he was savoring her suspense as much as he was the appetizer.
Piano music drifted into the restaurant from the adjacent bar, so soft and yet sprightly that it made the clink of silverware seem like music, too.
At last he said, 'And there he is, hands in front of his face, quarters bouncing off him, these kids and this old lady scrambling around him to snare some change.'
Grinning, Kathleen said, 'So the gimmick actually worked.'
Nolly nodded. 'Jimmy Gadget earned his money this time, for sure.'
The subcontractor who built the quarter-spitting coin boxes was James Hunnicolt, but everyone called him Jimmy Gadget. He specialized in electronic eavesdropping, building cameras and recorders into the most unlikely objects, but he could do just about anything requiring inventive mechanical design and construction.
'Couple quarters hit him in the teeth,' Nolly said.
'I approve of anything that makes business for dentists.'
'Wish I could describe his face. Frosty the Snowman was never that white. The surveillance van is parked right there, two spaces south of the vending machines-'
'A real ringside view.'
'So entertaining, I felt I should have paid for those seats. When the third machine starts whizzing coins at him, he bolts like a kid running a graveyard at midnight on a dare.' Nolly laughed, remembering.
'More fun than divorce work, huh?'
'You should've seen this, Kathleen. He's dodging people on the sidewalk, shoving them out of his way when he can't dodge them. Three long blocks, Jimmy and I watched the creep, till he turned the corner, three long blocks all uphill, and it's a hill that would kill an Olympic athlete, but he doesn't slow down once.'
'Man had a ghost on his butt.'
'I think he believed it.'
'This is a crazy damn wonderful case,' she said, shaking her head.
'Soon as Cain is out of sight, we yank up our tricky vending machines, then haul the real ones out of the van and bolt 'em down again. Slick, fast. People are still picking up quarters when we finish. And get this-they want to know where the camera is.'
'You mean-'
'Yeah, they think we're with Candid Camera. So Jimmy points to this United Parcel truck parked across the street and says the cameras are in there.'
She clapped her hands in delight.
'When we pull away, people are waving across the street at the UPS truck, and the driver, he sees them, and he stands there, kind of confused, and then he waves back.'
Nolly adored her laugh, so musical and girlish. He would have made all sorts of a fool out of himself, anytime, just to hear it.
The busboy swept the empty appetizer plates away as the waiter arrived simultaneously with small salads. Fresh martinis followed.
'Why do you think he's spending his money for all this tricky stuff?' Kathleen wondered, not for the first time.
'He says he has a moral responsibility.'
'Yeah, but I've been thinking about that. If he feels some kind of responsibility? then why did he ever represent Cain in the first place?'
'He's an attorney, and this grieving husband comes to him with a big liability case. There's money to be made.'
'Even if he thinks maybe the wife was pushed?'
