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A
Evidently Lucas had radioed for a lift back to Mott. He had left the Lorelei so A
“Tell me a story,” A
“What kind of a story?” Molly asked. “One where all the bad guys die?”
“One where nobody dies and the girl gets Robert Redford.”
“Is this a New York story, or do they live happily ever after?”
A
“If they do they never pay me a hundred and fifty bucks an hour to hear about it. What’s wrong, A
“Zach’s still dead.”
“Zach and Franco.”
“Better make it a story with no plot and great costumes,” A
“That turned out to be a hoot. At eight hundred and twenty bucks a pop, I wasn’t allowed to sip the elixir of the gods, of course. Us peons had to settle for some French stuff. But the Palates sipped and swirled and sniffed. Three of them said it was the True Vintage-not unlike, I gathered from their tone, a splinter from the True Cross-and the other two swore it was a hoax. My client was in the hoax contingent, as you might imagine. Nothing makes a bona fide Seeker more neurotic than having one of his fellows stumble across the holy grail before he does.
“How’s that for a story: mystery, romance, tuxedos. And Zach’s still dead. What’s up, A
“A diver who worked here was killed on one of the wrecks. I just got done telling his wife.”
There was sympathetic silence from New York. In the background A
“You know the saddest part?” A
After she got off the phone with Molly, A
Nights in the desert had never seemed dark to A
Footsteps, muted voices intruded and she stood up, melted into the trees off the path. Two people, walking without a light, came up the trail from the marina. They sat on the bench A
A
A
Patience Bittner found A
Patience swept out through the double doors like a woman pursued. At the railing she stopped, her hands resting on the wood, her head drooping forward. A
“Don’t be afraid,” A
Patience screamed. A short stab of sound.
“Sorry,” A
“Oh Lord…”
A
“Do you always creep about like that?” the woman demanded.
A
Patience had recovered herself; her irritation at being startled had passed. Using her hands like a woman still night-blind, she shuffled over from the railing and sat down on the deck near A
“Amygdaloid.”
“Not your days off. I remember.”
“No,” A
“Found? My God. Tell me!” A
“Shh. Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay,” A
“My God,” Patience said again and she moaned, a ghostly creaking in the night. “Where was he?”
“Inside the Kamloops.”
Patience twitched. A
“De
Eulogy was the first step toward recovery. Patience Bittner would be all right. A
“Do you have a place to sleep?” Patience asked.
“I’ll sleep on the Lorelei.”
“Ralph’s a sweetheart, but his housekeeping leaves something to be desired. Stay with Carrie and me.” A
Patience put the lodge to bed at midnight and A