canary to room temperature yet.
The fifty-caliber slug went in dead center between his eyes, opening after impact to leave little of his head intact. The man was never to be disturbed during these morning hours. His secretary would not discover the body until nearly noontime. By then, Nick was off the island and on his way west.
“Hey, look there, Carol, it’s Mister Pulp Fiction.”
“Shush, Dan, quit repeating Joe’s insults! Hi, Nick.”
Nick sat on a camping chair in the sand of Otter’s Point Beach. The ocean vista fronting the small beach calmed considerably as it flowed into the narrow cove. A steep rocky cliff poked out to blunt the ocean’s force on the left, while waves crashed rhythmically against the craggy rock barriers jutting out of the water on the right. Although the nearness to the path and road made satellite uplinks a bad idea, Nick loved to visit Otter’s Point in the early morning hours. He liked the cold and salty-tasting air.
Nick looked behind him to the stone wall separating the beach from the road above. It snaked along unevenly to a roughly hewn beach access stairway. He waved at the old couple picking their way carefully down the rock steps to the sand and stood up to greet them.
“Joe told us you stopped in for coffee and insults again this morning,” Dan said, shaking hands with Nick. “He mentioned you were headed here. Where’d you take off to these past couple weeks?”
“Don’t be so nosy, you old goat.” Carol rebuked her husband, but looked at Nick expectantly anyway.
“Field work for Diego’s new adventure,” Nick answered with a smile. “I journeyed to the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Las Vegas for research on romance.”
“Oh…you…bugger,” Carol gasped, shaking her finger at Nick as Dan laughed.
“You suggested I needed more romance in my creepy novels, Carol,” Nick replied, while innocent confusion beamed expertly from his features. “I aim to please.”
“I never…oh, I see…it’s ‘poke fun at the old lady’ day.” Carol tried to look at Nick with stern reserve but started giggling as if she were eighteen instead. “You never give Diego a sense of humor either, by the way. You’re funny, Nick. Diego could be funny.”
“A funny assassin?” Dan snorted. “Oh please…”
“Between you and me, Carol, I can’t give Diego too much of my personality.” Nick looked both ways for witnesses before leaning toward Carol conspiratorially. “It would give away my secret identity.”
This drew laughter from both Dan and Carol. Dan held out the thermal cup he had in his hand to Nick.
“Here, Hemingway, we bought you a cup of coffee for the beach.”
“God bless you, sir.” Nick took the cup in both hands, imitating a street urchin in a Dickens’ novel. “You do the Lord’s work this gray morning.”
“Notice how we’ve been talking for ten minutes, and he still hasn’t told us anything,” Dan said. “The least we could get is a straight answer to one simple question in payment for hauling that heavy coffee all this way for you.”
“I went east for research. I took pictures and notes all along the route for stops I’m using in my work-in- progress. Then, I came back. Simple as that.”
“You take pictures, of course.” Carol thought about it for a moment. “Then you’d have something to jog your memory for a particular piece in your writing.”
“Damn, you’ve dragged the secrets of bestsellers from me. Now, what will I do? You know, of course, that the Writer’s Guild will send people after me for this, don’t you?”
“We thought maybe you had a girlfriend somewhere,” Carol persisted, ignoring Nick’s humorous sidestep.
“Actually, up north, I did see a woman I’d like to know better. It was-”
“Is this another joke?” Carol cut him off.
“Give him a chance to finish a sentence, oh Grand Inquisitor.” Dan needled Carol with practiced ease.
“I’m sorry, Nick, go on.” Carol reached out a hand to touch Nick’s windbreaker while glaring at Dan.
“I’m making Pleasanton one of the main points in the story I’m doing,” Nick went on, grinning at the couples’ continuous repartee. “I stopped in for lunch at an Applebee’s up there and saw a waitress I took a real liking to. I have to do more field work in Pleasanton and I figured to haunt the Applebee’s restaurant while I’m working.”
“I don’t know that I approve of you dating a waitress,” Carol replied, stunning Dan, who gaped at her as if she had grown a third eye.
“You were waitressing when we met.” Dan recovered quickly, smiling with satisfaction as his factual addition to the conversation made Carol blush.
“See.” Nick put his arm around Carol’s shoulders. “It worked out for you.”
“On second thought,” Dan said, cupping his chin as if in deep thought, “Carol may have a point.”
“I need more caffeine before taking both you weasels on at once this early in the morning.” Carol sighed, shrugging off Nick’s arm. “Sorry, Nick, that came out wrong. When are you going to Pleasanton again?”
“Later in the day, when the rush hour traffic’s over.”
“You’re really taken with this waitress,” Dan speculated.
“And with my research, so I can remain in this lap of luxury,” Nick added.
“We’d better get going.” Carol tugged on Dan’s jacket. “My knees are starting to ache. It’s cold down here in this wind, and I’ve had enough morning exercise.”
“I can go get the car, honey,” Dan offered quickly. “You can sit here with Hemingway while I get it.”
“No… I’m not that sore.” Carol grasped Dan’s hand. “Let’s move. Bye, Nick.”
Nick waved. “Bye, Carol. I’ll see you two at the cafe.”
Nick watched the couple trudge up the rock steps to street level, still gripping each other’s hands. Something sharp and annoying stabbed into the dark recess of his mind, bubbling unease to the surface, bringing a bitter taste to his mouth. Nick sat down again on the camp chair. He pulled the windbreaker hood over his short-cropped brown hair, squinting out at the waves again as the cold sea breeze blew across the beach.
Timing his entry after carefully watching the ebb and flow of patrons into the Applebee’s restaurant, Nick entered as a table opened in Rachel’s area. The greeter, a young teenage girl, grabbed up a menu and led him to the table he had hoped to get.
“I’ll have this cleaned up right away,” she told Nick, handing him the menu.
“No hurry,” Nick said. A busboy came over to clean the table only moments after the girl returned to the front.
Rachel hurried over to the table, having seen Nick sit down. Nick noticed her nametag had ‘Kim’ on it as she smiled at him in greeting.
“Hi, I’m Kim. I’ll be your server today. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Iced tea, please, and I’ll have the soup and salad.” Nick pointed out the entry in the menu. “Blue cheese dressing on the salad.”
“Coming right up, I’ll get your iced tea. Be right back.”
Rachel returned a few minutes later with Nick’s iced tea. As she set the table for him and put the ice tea down, a fortyish woman slipped into the chair across from Nick.
“I’m sorry.” The woman apologized excitedly. “Are…are you Nick McCarty?”
“Yes,” Nick answered. The best-selling author had forgotten for a split second that his picture was on millions of book covers.
“I knew it! I’m Denise.” The woman held out her hand and Nick shook it. “I’ve read all your books-mostly because my husband made me-at least in the beginning.”
Denise laughed at her own admission as Rachel looked from Denise to Nick curiously, knowing she should get moving, but unable to command her body away from the table.
“My husband will freak.” Denise put a piece of notebook paper in front of Nick with a pen. “Can I get your autograph? Ron will go ballistic when I show him.”
Nick wrote ‘to Ron and Denise, thanks for your support,’ signed it, and passed the pen and paper back. “Nice
