behind her like a grotesque halo.
When Colin saw her eyes, open and staring, a look of horror burned into them forever, he dropped the glass from his hand and crumpled to the brick patio. It was Chicago all over again, and he was passing out.
LOOKING BACK-50 YEARS AGO
A small boy who was unable to visit his mother, who was in the maternity ward at the Long Island Hospital in Seaville, found a novel way to get around the rules. The staff was greatly amused as the 12-year-old climbed a tree near the window of the room in which his mother was in bed, and sitting on a limb just outside the window, held a lengthy conversation with his mother.
TWO
When Colin came to he saw the face of the blond. Her blue eyes were open now, concerned and not smiling.
'Are you all right?' Annie asked.
He felt chagrined, taking a dive like that. How many bodies had he seen in his life? One hundred? Two, three? But it was different now. Still, he couldn't explain that to this woman he didn't know.
'Colin?' she said.
'Hey, pal, speak,' Mark ordered.
Colin turned his head away from the woman, and looked into Mark's handsome face, the prematurely gray hair disheveled.
'Should I ask where I am?' he said, trying to joke.
'Why not?'
'Where am I?'
Mark said, 'At the scene of a crime, so get your ass up.'
'Easy now.' It was Sarah.
Colin sat up slowly, his shoulder aching from the fall. He saw that the other men were still standing around, most of them staring at the body in the pool, but a few were looking at him, making him feel worse.
'Are you sure you're all right?' Annie asked.
Colin wondered why she cared, but was glad she did. 'Yeah, sure, I'm okay.'
Annie smiled. 'Too much dip.'
'I wasn't drinking,' he said defensively. He got to his knees, then to his feet, wavering a second.
Mark grabbed his arm. 'Hey, take it easy.'
'I was just kidding,' Annie said.
He ignored her.
'Don't look at the floater again if you don't want to,' Mark said quietly.
'No, it's okay, I just… I just…'
'Skip it.'
Their eyes locked in understanding. In Seaville only Mark and Sarah knew about it. He wanted things to stay that way.
'Maybe you should go home,' Sarah suggested.
'No. I'm fine now.'
Colin and Mark walked to the edge of the pool. She was still floating there like something from one of those lagoons in horror films. But it didn't get to him now. He made himself detach, like the good newspaperman he was.
A siren wailed in the distance. Colin wondered if it would be a patrolman or the chief himself. He liked Chief Hallock. They'd taken instantly to each other, and that was valuable to Colin. Mark had no rapport with the man, couldn't reach him. Colin knew it burned Mark that he'd won Waldo Hallock the first week on the job, but Mark was fair and smart, knew it was good for the paper, so he kept his ruffled feelings tamped down.
The siren died in front of the house. Patrolman Albert Wiggins was first through the gate, hatless, his short- sleeved blue shirt showing big wet patches under the arms. The chief followed, white shirt immaculate, his hat set at a jaunty angle, back farther than regulation.
Waldo Hallock was forty-eight and he'd been chief for twenty years. During his third year on the force all policemen were required to take a civil service test. Hallock was the only one of five men who passed, and he was immediately promoted to chief, replacing the current one, Charles Gildersleeve. And now his son, Carl, detested Waldo.
Gildersleeve hurried over to him, clutching a handkerchief, which he used to wipe his sweating neck and face.
'Don't know how this happened, Slats,' he said to the chief, calling him by his high-school nickname. 'I never saw this woman before. I don't know what's going on here. This is a mess.'
Hallock tilted his head to one side, took off his hat, exposing his full head of black hair, not a gray one in the bunch, reached out a long arm and gently but firmly pushed Gildersleeve to one side. ''Scuse me, Stinky,' he said, using Carl's high-school nickname, and walked to the edge of the pool.
The chief returned his hat to his head and Colin wondered if he'd taken it off just to show that thick thatch of black to white-haired, balding Gildersleeve.
'Got to get her out,' Hallock said to Wiggins. 'Call the M.E.'
'Right.' Wiggins walked away.
'You guys want to help?' Hallock asked.
Colin felt his stomach flip-flop. He couldn't touch the body. Never again. But what could he say?
'You don't have to, you know.' It was Annie, behind him.
Mark called to Doug Corwin and Ray Chute to give a hand. He stepped in front of Colin, making it impossible for him to get near the pool. The chief didn't seem to notice, and in a minute Wiggins was back, so there were five, pulling and lifting.
Colin looked down at his feet. He wanted to get the hell out of there. But it was humiliating enough without running like some chickenshit. And he had to stop being rude to this Annie Winters who was only trying to be nice and helpful. He turned to speak to her but she wasn't there.
Then he heard the flumping sound of the body dropping onto the patio, and he forgot about Annie. The men drew back, creating a space, and Colin was suddenly part of the group staring down at the dead woman.
Light-colored hair hung in long hanks around the swollen face and over shoulders that looked like they might explode. Colin avoided looking at her eyes. A piece of material was knotted around her throat like a ragged jabot. His gaze drifted to her chest, where cuts ran from the bottom of her neck over her breasts and down to her navel.
'Anybody recognize her?' Albert Wiggins asked.
There was nervous laughter.
'You must be joshin', Al,' Ray Chute said.
'Just thought I'd ask.'
'Carl,' the chief called. 'C'mere.'
Gildersleeve, handkerchief still working overtime, scurried across the patio. He'd removed his sunglasses and they hung against his chest, one bow hooked over the edge of the pocket of his pink linen jacket. The two men stared at one another, their mutual lack of admiration evident.
'You know this woman, Carl?' Hallock asked.
Gildersleeve's face flushed in anger. 'I told you I didn't. Don't try an' pin this thing on me.' He turned toward Mark. 'And don't you go writin' this up in the paper, Griffing.'
Mark looked surprised. 'Now, Mayor, you know I have to report the news.'
