by Dana Mentink
They both laughed. The phone rang. He sighed. “I’ll just let the machine pick it up.”
“Have you hired a receptionist yet?”
“No. I’ve had several applicants, but I’m a perfectionist in that area, too, I guess.”
The door crashed open and Ellen Foots strode in, a plate of plastic-wrapped muffins in her hands. “Hello, Dr. Soloski.” Her face tightened when she saw Ruth. “Oh, hello, Ruth.” She turned her attention back to the dentist. “I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d bring you some breakfast. I just whipped these up this morning.”
Ruth peeked at the plump muffins. Blueberry, topped with crumbs, and very familiar. They looked exactly like the kind sold at Monk’s shop, a far cry from the hockey puck variety Ellen provided for the last library function. She watched the giantess smooth her frizzy hair.
Doctor Soloski patted his trim waist. “Oh. Why, thank you. I’ll save them for later. Have to keep the body in shape and all.”
“Of course. I’m a real fitness nut myself. I saw you out running one day, early. What time do you usually go?”
“Well, the time varies according to my schedule.”
Ellen nodded. “Did you look over my application? I do have a dental health background, you know, and I could whip your schedule into shape in no time. If you don’t take control of your schedule, it will take control of you, I always say.”
Dr. Soloski’s eyes widened a bit. Ruth gave him a sympathetic look and left the dentist with the formidable librarian.
Outside she found Alva stroking the pearlescent interior of the abalone. “It’s a fine shell, ain’t it?”
“Yes, Alva, but you weren’t very polite to the dentist.”
Alva blinked. “No?” His eyes narrowed with mischief. “I’ll bet he’d rather have me in that there office than her.” He pointed at Ellen Foots through the window. The woman seemed to have cornered the unfortunate dentist by the water cooler.
“I think you may be right about that.”
She treated Alva to a chocolate milk, which he dribbled a bit due to his numb mouth, and herself to one of Al’s black and white cookies. Thoroughly satiated with carbohydrates, she walked Alva home. It was close to one o’clock when she headed up the driveway to her small cottage. From the outside, it was impossible to detect the havoc Carson had created in his attempt to repair termite damage to an exterior wall. To the unsuspecting visitor, it was a cozy three-bedroom bungalow, surrounded by hydrangeas and a massive lemon tree.
She inhaled the delicate aroma of citrus as she approached the house. The scent always soothed her nerves. Before she could open the front door, an enormous man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair stepped out on the front step and wrapped her in a hug.
“Monk.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I missed you. I feel like you’ve been gone forever.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Me, too, baby. Me, too. Let me see you. How are you feeling? You look fantastic.”
She laughed. “I’ve been told I look waxy and glazed. How is your father?”
“He’s doing well. That stroke isn’t going to slow him down for a minute. He’s as determined as a freight train.”
“Sounds like you came by your genes honestly.”
“My mother is beside herself with excitement about this baby.”
“I wish I could just be excited and leave all the other worries behind.”
He rubbed her shoulders. “Don’t you fret. We’re going to work it out in good time. I’m just glad to be back home, with the crazy stuff that’s going on here. Did they figure out what happened to that diver? I couldn’t believe it when you called to tell me. The riptides must have gotten him.”
“They’re still investigating as far as I know. Let’s go inside. I want to hear all about your trip.”
He did a quick sidestep to prevent her from entering. “Well, honey, there’s something I should tell you before you go in.”
“Has Carson done something again? What else could he possibly have broken? We’re already down one lamp and a picture frame. Is he aware that we’re going to have to put a baby in that room in a matter of months?”
“No, no. It’s not the house.”
“It’s not the house?” She took in his uneasy expression. “What’s wrong, Monk?”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say anything was wrong. It could be a real good thing, I mean, after you’ve got some time to think about it.” He shifted his weight to the other foot.
“Monk.”
“I know I should have called, and actually I tried, but you weren’t home and I had to make a decision. I hope I did the right thing.”
Her last shred of patience evaporated. “Monk, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now I am going to start to howl at the top of my lungs.”
Before he had time to answer, the door behind him opened.
Ruth’s mouth fell open in shock.
Chapter Five
Jack tightened the strap of his helmet. The bike wobbled as he pedaled, as if the wheels had a different direction in mind. After a few minutes he achieved the proper pedal to steer ratio and headed up slope, skirting the shadow of Finny’s Nose.
This is ridiculous. I’ve got a murder to investigate. What am I doing on a bike right now?
In spite of his negative thoughts, he recognized the perfect beauty of the day. The Monday afternoon was warm, brilliant June sunshine broken by the thick canopy of eucalyptus and pine trees that bordered the trail. The scent of cedar mingled with the faint tang of the sea. Jack’s cell phone chirped. He lurched to a stop and answered. He had to wait for Nate on the other end of the line to finish his sneezing fit. “God bless. When are you going to take some allergy medicine?”
“When they can make some that won’t put me to sleep. You remember what happens when I fall asleep.”
Jack smiled. Usually Nate’s triplet girls attempted to paint his nails or use him as a Barbie dive platform when he slumbered at home. “What do you have from the lab?” “Nothing yet,” Nate said before he blew his nose. “And I’m still trying to find next of kin. Where are you? You sound winded.”
“Uh, out. I’ll be back in the office in a few hours.”
Nate laughed. “Right. Tell Bobby I said hello.”
Jack grunted and clicked off the phone just as Bobby coasted up. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the combination of exertion and the temperature.
“Hi,” he said, feeling his stomach do the two-step.
“Hi.”
He fiddled with the handgrips and ran a finger under his chin strap. “So, uh, here we are.”
“Yes, here we are.” She sipped out of a water bottle.
“Nice day for a bike ride.”
She wiped her mouth. “Yes, it is, but I have to admit I’m surprised, Jack.”
“About what?”
“Lots of things. You’re not in the office the Monday after a murder, for one thing.”
“I went in early this morning, so I’m due to have a break. The bike riding idea was perfect.” He took in her skeptical look. “I’m trying to find balance.”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t picture you as the bike-riding type.”
He laughed. “Would you believe I’m a man of mystery?”
“No. Closemouthed, yes, but not really the mysterious type.”
“Guilty as charged. I couldn’t resist your invitation to go for a ride.”
The wind picked up her black hair and tousled it across her eyes. “That’s a surprise. Seems like you resist me plenty.”
Jack stared at her, drinking in the pink of her cheeks, the wild sparkle in her dark eyes. Resist her? He couldn’t get through one hour of the day without thinking about her, wondering where she was, wishing he could be there next to her. He tried to think of a safe way to put his feelings into words. Before he could answer, she stowed the bottle and pedaled off up the slope.
He gritted his teeth and followed.
The road was mostly gr
avel by the time they hit the top of Finny’s Nose. Jack tried to control his gasping breaths as he dismounted and pressed a hand to the cramp in his side.
Bobby hiked past a cluster of manzanitas and sat on an outcropping of rock that provided an unobstructed view of the vast Pacific. A hummingbird zoomed in to check out the strange visitor to his territory, and she stayed still to put it at ease. The bird hovered for a moment, as if exchanging a greeting with her.
Jack watched her profile, the small nose, determined chin, short hair fluttering in the wind. For a moment, his breathing grew even more unsteady. He wanted to say so many things but found himself speechless.
“I always pictured California as having clear blue water and golden sand, until I came here.” She regarded the gray waves that thundered onto the rocky beach below. He joined her, and they took in the gulls circling the beach in a great noisy cluster.
“I imagine that’s what Frederick Finny was looking for when he wrecked his ship trying to smuggle rum along this coast. He was probably surprised about the beaches, too.”
She giggled. “At least he got a mountain named after him.”
“More of a big hill really.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a stranger picking his way along the sand. The man was tall, his gait purposeful. Jack wished they were closer so he could make out the face. Strangers were uncommon on this rough bit of coastline. Visitors tended to gravitate toward Honey Beach or the quaint shops and restaurants in town. Many made a beeline for Roxie Trotter and her fishing excursions.
And some visitors wound up murdered on Finny’s unforgiving shore, he reminded himself. The cameraman was actually the third murder since last October.
Bobby handed him a thermos of coffee. Her fingers seemed to generate their own heat where they touched his hand.
“You brought coffee? How did you know I’d be ready for some?”
She smiled. “Because I’ve never known you not to be in the mood for some java.”
He took a hefty slug of the brew, burning his tongue in the process. “When is Monk coming back?”
“He flew in this morning. Apparently he ran into Ruth’s son at the airport.”
“Bryce?”
She nodded. “Bryce is going to stay with them, I think.”
Jack wondered how that would go over with the man’s newly pregnant mother. Then his mind raced ahead to the implications of Monk’s return. “But you’re going to stay for a while? That’s what you said, right?”
“Maybe until Ruth’s baby comes. Or until I get a job offer. I’m not sure.”
He watched the soft curve of her lip, so prone to break into a smile. It brought him back to another face, a face from his other life. The two faces were so alike, and so different.
Bobby fixed her black eyes on his. “What are you thinking about?”
“Me? Nothing.”
Her brows knitted. “Here’s an idea. How about you tell me the truth? Even if it’s personal or you think it makes you look silly.”
There was no anger in her words but a trace of sadness that he wanted to erase. He tried to breathe out the weight that settled in his chest. “I was thinking about Lacey.”
“You miss her.”
“Yes. She’s been dead for more than two years, but it doesn’t feel like that sometimes.” It seemed like only a moment ago when he’d gotten the call. Lacey dead from a brain hemorrhage at the foot of their driveway, with their toddler son, Paul, watching it all from the window. Was it only a few years ago? Or a lifetime?
The stranger Jack had noticed before now disappeared around a rugged cliff. Jack cleared his throat. “She was always asking me to take time away from work. To go on picnics or bike rides, especially after Paul was born. She was a big one for taking nature walks.”
Bobby’s voice was low. “And you didn’t go very often?”
“Not enough.”
“She sounds like a very smart woman.”
“She was. She had a lot of heart, like you do.” He looked down at his scuffed shoes.
“Jack, do you feel guilty for having feelings for me?”
He swallowed. Hard. He wanted to deny it. Instead the words came out haltingly, like a deer trying to stand on newborn legs. “I. . .yes.”
For a moment she was expressionless. Then her face lit with a smile. She leaned toward him and pressed her lips against his, soft and gentle. “Thank you for being honest. I guess you really do care about me.”
When his breath returned, he wanted to crush her to him, to bury his face in her neck and shut out the world, and his guilt. Instead he whispered a prayer. “God help me.”
Bobby gave him that sideways tilt of her head. “He is, Jack. He’s helping you heal.”
“How do you figure?”
“It’s like being in the ocean and swimming back to shore. You’ve got to go through the rough surf sometimes, but it has to be done, no matter how uncomfortable. Otherwise, you’re just—”
“Treading water?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Exactly, and sooner or later that doesn’t work anymore.”
His phone rang again. With clumsy fingers he answered, listening intently. “I’m on my way.”
“I hope it’s not another body.”
“No, not this time, but I do have to get going.”
Bobby laughed and checked her watch. “Well, that was one hour and forty-three minutes away from work. Not bad.”
He sighed as they retrieved their bikes. “It’s a start, anyway.”
The station was in the usual state of chaos when he returned. Alva lay on his back on the front counter. His heavy black boots overlapped one side of the Formica, and his knit cap jutted over the other, a tiny blue pom-pom clearly visible. “I wanna report a theft. I got my rights to report a crime, ain’t I? Look in here, just look why don’tcha?”
Jack tried to sneak past into his office, but he couldn’t get by the angry lady in front of him.
Maude Stone stiffened her minuscule frame. “You are an idiot, Alva Hernandez. A moron of the highest degree. Why do you even pay attention to him, Mary?”
Officer Mary Dirisi reached over Alva’s stomach for a pen. “Because he’s lying on my workspace. Okay, Alva, I’ve got a report to do, so spill it. What’s the deal?”
Alva shoved a finger into his mouth and angled his face in the officer’s direction. “Aarrrgh uz iittttte ere.”
“What?” she said, pencil poised.
“Arrggh us ittt—”
Jack squelched a smile.
“You imbecile, take your finger out of your mouth!” Maude yelled so loud it echoed through the office.
Alva removed his finger. “That quack dentist stole my tooth. I had one way in the back and now it’s gone. I didn’t notice until the Novocain wore off. He stole it, sure as shootin’. That’s grand theft dentistry. He probably sells ’em on the black market to toothless people in Bangladesh.”
“I don’t think people even in Bangladesh are that desperate for teeth,” Mary said, scribbling on a form.
Alva considered this. “Well, maybe he took ’em for some other reason. Could be he sells ’em as fake relics to churches. Now my tooth might be from St. Alva, Patron Saint of Molars.”
Maude snorted. “Patron Saint of Fools is more like it. Alva, shut up and listen. Dr. Soloski probably explained everything to you, but you were too ding blasted stubborn to pay attention. I spoke to him earlier, and he told me that when he was putting in your filling, he noticed you had a chipped molar and he filed it. It’s not gone, you nitwit, it’s probably just smoothed down so it feels different.”
The old man sat up. His eyebrows undulated as he explored the area with his tongue. Mary handed him a mirror from her purse.
He peered into his mouth, moving his head this way and that to get a better view. “Well, I’ll be a smitten toad. There it is. I guess he ain’t stoled my tooth. How about that?”
“No,” Maude said, “but somebody stole your brain. Now quit
maligning Dr. Soloksi. We need all the professional men we can get in this town.”
Maude caught sight of Jack edging toward his office. “Oh, there you are, Detective. I’ve been trying to find you since Saturday. I want to know what’s going on with this murder investigation. What exactly is the status? Do you have any suspects? Made any arrests? It’s terrible for our Finny image. What will people say?”
Probably the same thing they said after the murder at the Finny Fog Festival in March, he thought. “Don’t worry, Maude. People will still flock to Finny for the clean air and great fishing. Nothing will tarnish our quaint fishing village appeal.”
Maude opened her mouth, but Jack cut her off. “I’ve got a meeting. Talk to Officer Dirisi if you have any more specific questions.”
Mary shot him a poisonous look as he escaped into his office.
He eased into his chair and took the cup of coffee Nate handed him, feeling only a twinge of guilt at leaving Mary at Maude’s mercy.
Nate blew his nose. “How’s Bobby?”
“She’s fine.” He ignored the sly smile under Nate’s bushy mustache. “What’s the word?”
“Well, we notified next of kin, a mother in Des Moines. We got the sheets back on him and it seems as though Reggie was into some trouble, small stuff mostly. Petty theft, fencing stolen merchandise, anything to earn a quick buck.”
“Funding a drug habit?”
“Nah, gambling debts.”
“Okay, the guy needed quick cash.” Jack tapped a pencil on the desk. “How does that put him in the ocean at night?”
“Could be unrelated. Maybe he dove for fun. He was into all that survival stuff.”
Jack eyed the crease in Nate’s forehead. “But you don’t think so?”
“No. What are you going to see diving at night in those rough waters? Even Jacques Cousteau couldn’t handle that in his little submarine thingy. And Reggie didn’t have a camera that we can find anyway, just a real nice underwater flashlight and some light sticks. The guys from county also found his line with a full tank attached.”