TIPPING POINT
Chapter 14
Time passed surprisingly quickly. You didn't have to be having fun, Horatio realised, you simply had to be getting old. Which he was – sixty-one, though he rarely felt it. Jogging, hiking, swimming – lots of swimming – and his body was still lean and fit. More so than it used to be, he thought. It wasn't vanity – who, after all, was going to see him? It was more that, living alone and so remotely, the last thing he needed was ill-health.
Having driven for thousands of miles in his first months of wandering, now he hardly drove at all. He fetched supplies every two or three weeks, and that was it. He had no visitors. Well, apart from three sturdy German tourists who mistook his lane for a hiking trail. Their English was limited, his German non-existent, but they were soon – politely - re-directed. Horatio went out next day and added a chain and a 'Private' notice to the gate.
Henry proved a joy. He was loyal to a fault, never far from his master's side. He wasn't noisy, unless any animal – usually a squirrel – invaded his space. The only time he objected was when he was left behind, but Horatio never took him in the car when he was going to have to park it somewhere. Far too hot… Once or twice, back in Miami, he had seen the distressing sight of animals, overheated to death, being removed from cars. Like it or not – and he certainly didn't – Henry stayed behind. He showed few signs of a compromised heart, except for panting a lot. It was difficult to keep him from over-exerting himself. He seemed to love life, and to love having a home and a master. Horatio wondered how he had ever come to be homeless.
And Horatio finally put pen to paper…
Dear Eric
I know it's been too long. I tried to write you, really I did, but there was so much I couldn't put into words. I seemed to need some distance/time.
Now I'll try again. I know you got my old job – amazing what you can find out on the internet. I hope it proves more of a pleasure than a burden. I know it can be both. I also know that you'll do a brilliant job.
So… what happened? I lost it, Eric, plain and simple, lost my grip on reality and the concept of right and wrong. I couldn't face the scumbags day-in, day-out, and then see the justice system giving them soft sentences. Some people just need eradicating, period. No, it wasn't my call to make, I know that. And vigilante-ism has no place in a police force. If ever you feel yourself going down that road, please heed the warnings before it takes you over.
Hell, what gives me the right to give advice! All I know is, I went on too long and then I went too far. And then I couldn't face any of you, and I ran away.
I am so so sorry for doing that. I should have explained myself, to you and Calleigh at the very least, and taken my punishment. But, too late now. Two years nearly… I can't believe it. So please, try to accept my apology and don't think too badly of me. Perhaps just take it as a warning of what can happen.
I don't know how many of the old guard are still there, but pass my apologies on to them too. They deserved better than me, and I'm sure they now have it. I hope at least some of you have found happiness with partners, kids, dogs, whatever. It's not easy to be alone, but too easy to let it happen. It creeps up on you.
I'm in California at the moment. I'm okay, health good, got a dog to keep me company… Life's very different, but not unenjoyable. I may come back to Miami one day. Just not yet. Don't worry about me (if indeed you do – probably flattering myself).
You know the song? 'Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention'. Not so. I regret so much. I'd like to do it all again, differently. The faults are all mine – thinking I was above getting hurt, 'losing it'. Well, I found out, didn't I? Not quite as resilient as I thought I was!
Take care, brother. I will try to keep in touch more, and again, I'm sorry for letting you all down.
A rather humble,
Horatio
P.S. Just re-read this. I think it's a bit self-pitying! However, as I've written so many letters, only to throw them away, I'll send this one. I do get my self-pitying moments, I admit it!
He addressed the letter to the lab, thinking that Eric had probably moved home by now. Then he put it to one side. He'd mail it next time he was out. Maybe.
In all the time he'd been there, he'd never seen anyone on the beach. Consequently, he was startled to climb down the path one day, and see a woman, sitting some way away, staring out to sea. Henry took off in the opposite direction, while Horatio sat down and watched the woman. In truth, he felt annoyed at an intrusion on 'his' beach.
She caught sight of him, got up, picked up a backpack, and sashayed over to him. Dressed in shorts and tee shirt, with a bandanna round her fair hair, she appeared young… mid-twenties, perhaps? As she got close, he realised she was probably ten years older than that. Not unattractive, just a little 'worn'. Aren't we all? She flashed him a warm smile, and got a slightly cooler one in return.
She held up a hand in a 'peace' sign. "Okay, man?"
"I'm okay. You?"
"Oh, I'm good. Have to be, don't you?"
Horatio chuckled. "That's true." He remembered his somewhat dormant manners. "Sorry – I just never see anyone down here. What's your name?"
"Frankie."
"Hi, Frankie. Short for Frances?"
She shrugged. "Suppose. I've always been Frankie. This your beach?"
He raised his eyebrows, questioningly.
"I mean, is it private here?"
"Not that I know of. Please, help yourself. Sit down."
He watched her drop neatly into a cross-legged position beside him.
She looked at him, openly curious. "So what do you do? You don't look like a bum."
"Nothing. I'm retired."
"You look kinda young to be retired."
He was flattered but tried not to show it.
"Retired from what?"
"Nosy, aren't you?" he replied amiably. "I was a cop."
She looked alarmed. "Oh Jeez, trust me to find a cop!"
"I'm not one now."
"Do you, sort of, give up the oath when you retire?"
"What do you know about the oath?"
"I've been around. I've had cops."
He chuckled at the choice of words. "I'll bet."
"So where were you a cop? Here? I mean, LA?" she asked.
"You ask too many questions."
"Is it a secret?"
"Nope. New York, then Miami."
She seemed impressed. "Wow, Miami! I'll get there one day. Why did you come here?"
"Fancied a change."
She nodded thoughtfully. "I'm like that. I like to keep moving. What's your name?"
"Horatio."
"Say again?"
"Horatio."
"Jeez, your Mom must've hated you! Bet you had a hard time at school."
"They tried." He gestured to himself. "Red hair and a name like that? They only tried once, mind."
"Tough guy, were you?"
"Still am, Frankie."
She regarded him, her head on one side. "I believe that. So how'd you get here?"
"What? California?"
"No, stupid! Here. This bit of sand."
"I live nearby." He pointed vaguely behind him. "What about you?"
"Hitching up to Frisco. Last guy was a groper, so I got out. Just came to sit on the beach for a bit, then I'll get going… Hey, who's that?"
Horatio looked where she indicated. "That's my dog, Henry."
"Oh, he's cute! Here, boy…"
The dog galloped up, licked Horatio, and took a circumspect sniff at Frankie. Deciding she was harmless, he gave her a quick lick too, before trotting off to explore the tideline.
She grinned. "Matched pair – Big Red and Little Red… Why are looking like that?"
"Like what?"
She laughed. "Like a cop. What are you thinking? I'm too old to be hitching round California? I'm thirty-six - just an old hippie, man."
"I didn't say anything."
They were silent for a while. Henry ambled back and settled beside his master. He was panting, and Horatio frowned. "Don't you wear yourself out, dog…"
"It's a hot day," Frankie observed.
"I know, but he's got a bad heart. He just doesn't know it. If he gets too winded, I have to carry him home. And that is not fun."
"That's sad. Poor old Henry." She reached over to stroke the dog, stroking Horatio's knee in the process.
He didn't comment on it. "What do you do? For a living, I mean."
"Anything I can get. Waiting tables. Bar work. Or did you mean, do I make it on my back? Occasionally, if I'm desperate. Why? You buying?"
"Not at the moment."
"Oh, you got someone…"
"Nope."
"You can have a free one, if you like. I'm clean."
"Frankie, Frankie! You're certainly too old to go round handing it out to any man you meet!"
"I don't! Don't be so rude. I like you, that's all."
"You don't know me." He was silent for a while. "You won't get a ride easily – not along here – will you?"
She shrugged. "Then I'll walk. Why? You going to drive me?"
"Not to San Francisco, I'm not! Look, there's a diner and a couple of shops, about ten miles north… Hardly a truck stop, but I'd think you'd find someone there. I'll drive you up there, if you like."
"Why would you do that?"
"Must be feeling kind. C'mon… You can help me carry Henry…"
That proved unnecessary. Henry, after his short rest, was quite capable of making it home. Horatio unlocked the door and let them in.
Frankie walked round, opening doors to look in other rooms, clearly unabashed at her nosiness. "Wow, what a great place…"
"I think so. I only rent it, unfortunately. Coffee, or hit the road?"
"The road. If it gets too late, I'll never get a ride. Anyway, I like to see who's offering while it's still light."
For once, he left the dog asleep on the bed, and drove north. Frankie chattered incessantly, but he didn't really mind. You can have too much silence…
As she got out, he said, "Will you do me a favor?"
"Of course."
He handed her an envelope. "Stick this in the mail for me – somewhere well away from here."
"Wow, you're a strange one." She tucked the letter into her backpack, and kissed him on the cheek. "You're a nice man, Horatio."
"For a cop? Good luck. If you're ever passing, come and have that coffee."
TBC