period of time before she allowed it to slaughter her family. Perhaps Maggie, now, was its mistress. Something to think about.
Wandering among the display tables and shelves, Gorman loaded his arms with souvenir items: a strip of six color slides showing the front of the house and several of the murder scenes; half a dozen picture postcards; the glossy eight-by-ten-inch booket rich with text and photos; a shotglass with a gilt sketch of the house; a coffee mug sporting a color rendition of the house and the legend beast house—malcasa point, calif; a plastic back-scratcher with the same legend along its shaft and a white hand with claws for raking the itch; finally, two bumper stickers— beware of the beast with a hand at each end, claws dripping red blood—and I LOVE BEAST HOUSE with an illustration of the building. Gorman had grinned when he picked up that one.
He browsed the shop for a while longer, but found no more items relating specifically to Beast House. He carried his load to the cashier. Without a word or smile, the man started ringing up the items. He looked frail and oddly prim with his gray workshirt buttoned to the throat, but he’d obviously neglected to shave that morning. His chin was spiky with gray stubble. Gorman cleared his throat to conceal the sound of switching on his recorder. “Have you worked here long?” he asked.
“Long enough.”
“Have you ever seen the beast?”
“Nope.”
“Do you believe it actually exists?”
“You took the tour,” the man said without looking up.
“Yes.”
“Them folks didn’t die of the whooping cough.”
You wouldn’t know, of course, what became of the three bodies I happened to notice behind the house last night? What, he wondered, might the fellow say to that?
“Comes to twenty-nine dollars sixty-eight cents.”
Gorman paid cash. He watched for a receipt, but the tape was still curling out of the cash register when the man crinkled up the top of the loaded bag. “May I have the receipt, please?”
“I got no use for it.” He tore it loose and slapped it down on the counter.
Gorman hurried out of the house. Squinting against the brightness, he looked for Tyler and her friends. They were nowhere in sight.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Shall I take you back to the motel?” Abe asked.
Tyler, slumped in the passenger seat with her knees propped against the dash, shook her head and slowly unwrapped the stick of Doublemint Nora had given her. “I don’t think so,” she murmured. “I don’t think I want to be alone.”
Abe felt helpless, looking at her. He wished he could make her misery go away. He wanted to hold her gently and tell her it would be all right, but he knew that only time could blunt the shock and sorrow.
“Hey,” Nora said, “why don’t we head over to the beach? I always feel better at the beach when I’m low.”
Tyler folded the chewing gum and put it in her mouth. “I’d like that.”
“My trunks are at the motel,” Jack said.
“We’ll just walk on the sand.”
“I think I might like to swim,” Tyler said.
Her comment surprised Abe and pleased him. Many people in her place would want only to curl up alone with their loss. Her attitude seemed healthier than that. “Swim we shall,” he said.
“We didn’t even bring our suits,” Nora reminded her. “I didn’t, anyway, did you?”
“I want to buy a new one.”
“Sure. Okay. Me too.”
Abe pulled out and drove slowly up the road. “Why don’t we let you off at a store? You can buy your suits. Jack and I’ll go on back to the motel for ours, and we’ll pick you up in about fifteen minutes.”
“It may take longer,” Nora said.
On the next block, Abe spotted the sign for Will’s Sporting Goods. White lettering on the display window announced guns, tackle, swimming and camping accessories. “How about there?” he asked.
“We can give it a try,” Nora said.
He pulled to the curb. Tyler met his eyes. “Hurry back,” she told him.
“I will. We’ll meet you right here.”
She opened the door and climbed out. Nora pushed the seat-back forward. She looked at Abe as if about to say something, seemed to change her mind. She joined Tyler on the sidewalk. Abe waited for a car to pass, then swung onto the road.
“Christ,” Jack said. “The poor kid.”
“She’s holding up pretty well.”
“Gutsy.”
“Yeah.”
“Nora said she almost married the guy once. She finally figured she’d screwed up by turning him down, and came here to give him another shot.”
Abe nodded. He scanned the building fronts.
“Nora also said she was having second thoughts about it all. ‘Cause of you.”
Abe said nothing, but he felt his heart speed up.
“She thinks Tyler’s really fallen for you. No taste.”
Abe grinned. Then, down a sidestreet to the right, he spotted a pair of flag standards on the sidewalk. He turned. The gray stone building might be a post office, he realized, but it turned out to be the city hall.
“What are you doing?”
“You take the car. Get the trunks and some towels, and meet me back here. I want to do some checking.”
“On Jenson?”
“You got it.”
He eased in behind a pickup truck, left the keys in the ignition, and handed his room key to Jack. He left the car. He crossed the road at an angle away from the administrative offices’ entrance, heading for a blue, five-pointed star suspended above a set of double glass doors. The doors read, police department malcasa point. Pushing one open, he entered a deserted waiting area. A partition of frosted glass ran the length of the countertop. He stepped up to one of its three windows.
“We’ll want to impound it,” said the man. He was sitting on the corner of a nearby desk, his back to the window.
The female officer nodded. Her tan uniform was too tight across her broad chest and hips. She must be twenty-one, but she didn’t look it. She wore her hair short, in a cut similar to Tyler. Her eyes were on the other cop, and she didn’t notice Abe.
“Have Bix tow it in, but I want you supervising.”
“Oh, great. Bix is my favorite human.”
“Fortunes of war, Lucy. He’s a jerk, that’s why I want you out there. Give him half a chance, he’ll screw up the works just to spite us. Soon as it’s in the yard, let me know. I’ll want to go over it myself.”
“Right.”
“Bix puts a grope on you, you have my permission to deck him.”
She had a nice smile. “I’ll run him in for nauseating a police officer.” She started to turn away, and spotted Abe. With a nod, she signaled that they had a visitor.
The man looked over his shoulder, smiled, and scooted off the desktop as Lucy headed for a side door. He was taller than Abe, with a lean, creased face. His gray hair was long at the sides as if to make up for what he lacked on top. His eyes were the same gray as his hair. Sniper eyes, Abe thought. But cop eyes, too—wary and somewhat bemused.
