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7
ALTHOUGH THE MORNING WAS BRIGHT AND THE SKY CLEAR, a cold breeze, at least by Southern California standards, made Coltrane retreat from the patio outside his bedroom. “Brrr,” he said, cinching his robe tighter, turning toward Je
“It’s nicer in here anyhow,” Je
“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
“And the day’s young yet,” Je
“You’re going to wear me out.”
“As long as I didn’t wear this guy out.”
She pointed toward the erection that he showed when he slipped off his robe.
“Since when did you like talking dirty?” He eased under the covers, feeling her warmth.
“You call that talking dirty?”
“At the very least, I’d call it suggestive.”
“And what do you call this?”
“I’m a little distracted at the moment. Maybe the word will come to me if you do it again.”
“Something better come.”
“And the day’s young yet,” Je
“I did. It was fun. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to beg off.”
“Oh?” Je
“Yes. I promised Greg’s widow that I’d come over and spend some time with her and the kids.”
“Oh.” The inflection was now one of understanding. “I didn’t know you’d spoken with her.”
“I guess it slipped my mind.”
“I’ve never met her, but please tell her I’m very sorry about her husband.”
“I will.”
“That coffee you mentioned would sure taste good right now.”
The kitchen was a mess from the marinara and meatball di
“Ouch,” Je
“Forget it,” Coltrane said. “Come on. We’ll go out for breakfast.”
When they got back at twelve-thirty, they lingered in front of the house.
“If your visit with Greg’s widow ends early, come over to my parents,” Je
“I will,” Coltrane said. “Wish them a happy New Year for me.”
Je
“What?”
“Get a camera and take my picture?”
“Take your picture?”
“It’s a new year,” Je
“If it would make you happy, it would make me happy.”
A minute later, he was back with his Nikon, positioning Je
“The background makes you look even more blond,” Coltrane said. “In fact, you look radiant.”
As her eyes brightened the way he had hoped they would in response to his compliment, Coltrane snapped the picture.
NINE
1
GREG’ S WIDOW TURNED OUT TO HAVE A HOUSE FULL OF company: her parents, her sister, friends from where she worked at an insurance company, friends from the police department, not to mention neighbors. Paying their respects, they came and went. Although Greg’s widow looked as if she hadn’t been getting much sleep, she was making an effort to cook a turkey for the holiday, but it was clear that there wouldn’t be enough to feed everyone, and Coltrane stayed only an hour, leaving well before di
Hollow, he decided not to return to Packard’s house but instead to take Je
2
WHEN COLTRANE HAD FIRST ARRIVED IN LOS ANGELES seventeen years earlier, feeling a compulsion to learn as much as he could about the area, he had been intrigued to learn that Malibu – for him, the name had mythic overtones – was actually many different places: the Commune, where upper-echelon show-business personalities lived within a guarded, gated community; the beachfront, where narrow two-story town houses abutted one another for what seemed miles, a narrow road in front, the ocean in back; a long string of gas stations, motels, and quick-food restaurants along the PCH; and, farther north, where the ocean and the highway diverged, a rustic community of expensive homes on large wooded lots reached by mazelike meandering roads that for the most part did not have an ocean view. Coltrane could smell the salt breeze. He had the sensation of being near water. Apart from that, he could have been in an exclusive section of the San Fernando Valley.
It was along one of these meandering roads that Coltrane now drove. Pausing occasionally to check a map that he had bought at a service station on the Pacific Coast Highway before turning off it, he continued west, or as much as he could in that general direction, sometimes having to retreat because of errors he made due to unmarked streets, other times reaching a dead end where the map made it seem that the road he was on co
Glancing at his watch, seeing that the time was already almost three o’clock and that he was close to wasting the day, he calculated that it might take him another twenty minutes to backtrack and get over to the road he wanted. That was assuming the road would be marked and he wouldn’t have more difficulty finding it. Why bother when his destination was practically before him? Je
He heard the pounding of surf before he saw the ocean below him. He was on a steep ridge that looked down on the road he wanted, a line of impressive homes hugging the coast, no one in sight. In contrast with Malibu’s famous beaches, the shoreline here was almost entirely gray rock. Intrigued by the whitecaps hitting those rocks, as well as by the red tile roofs on some of the homes, Coltrane raised his camera, chose a fast shutter speed to freeze the waves, and took several photographs.