Rafael's Mermaid
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PART 2
Sea Spray
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CHAPTER 3
Pam stopped to study a miniature seascape in a gallery window. She wouldn't have been able to explain why it was different from the hundreds of other watercolor seascapes that dotted the shops along Dolores Street. There was just something about the way the fine brush strokes swept up the curve of white sand along the edge of the vivid blue water that caught her imagination. It was like the idea of an ocean, rather than an actual representation of sea and land.
She glanced in the door of the shop uncertainly. By rights, she should be back at the Inn studying her briefs right now. It wasn't a vacation, after all, she reminded herself. She had told everyone at the office she'd be working on the Point Lobos file and that's what she planned to do.
But somehow, when she pulled onto the Scenic Road that ran along Carmel Beach the day before, the coruscating thoughts that had haunted her all the way up the coast had stilled. She felt peaceful for the first time in more than 24-hours. This little painting might remind her of that peace in the horrible days that were sure to come when she got back to reality and Ralph.
She had just resolved herself to go inside and ask about the price when a navy blue shape appeared at her elbow. She didn't glance up. That type always took the slightest bit of notice as permission to start hitting on her in the most outrageous ways.
The last thing she was interested in right now was wasting time fending off some clueless Casanova.
"That's a nice one," said a deep, rumbling voice just above her left ear. "I think you should get it."
She froze. She would know that voice anywhere, in dreams or awake. It was the second-to-last voice she wanted to hear right now.
"Bill," she said slowly, not looking away from the painting she could no longer see, "What are you doing here?"
"Partly just admiring this lovely piece of art," he said. "But mostly I'm watching the reflection of the two garbanzos across the street."
She stared straight ahead. If she didn't know Bill, this would sound like some kind of wild ploy. But she did know Bill. And she knew wild ploys weren't part of his standard repertoire.
"Thanks for not turning around," he went on conversationally. "I probably shoulda mentioned that right away, but that's par for the course today. Why don't we step into this shop for a minute so I can get a better look at your tail- uh, I mean the guys tailing you."
Wordlessly, she turned and walked through the door of the shop. Bill followed her a moment later, guiding her with a light touch on her elbow to the back corner of the shop by an open glass case full of ceramic knick-knacks.
When she finally looked up at him, he was staring over her head out the multi-paned window at the front of the store. His graying hair looked windswept and his jeans and jacket looked rumpled and road-worn. His hazel eyes were a deeper green than usual, a sign she knew meant deep emotions were in play. She couldn't read them in his impassive expression.
She risked a glance and after a moment picked out two bulky weight-lifter types studying a display of French crockery in the store across the street. They looked completely unfamiliar. She had no idea what would make Bill think they were following her.
"Bill," she said slowly, trying to control her seething emotions, "What are you doing here? Did Ralph send you?"
"Hmm?" he said conversationally, still focused on the window. "No, honey, Ralph didn't send me. What are you doing here?"
She took a deep breath. How much should she tell him, she wondered. How much did she want him to know?
"Hold it," Bill said before she could speak. "Let me rephrase that. I know why you're here. I heard-"
She felt the blood rise in her face.
"You heard about it?" she said, struggling to keep from shouting, as if all of the half dozen people in the small space couldn't hear their conversation anyway.
"Did Ralph tell you about this one, too?" she said. "Is there more I should know?"
"No, no, hold on," he said, glancing down at her and looking away quickly. "You've got it turned around. I heard you two over the communicator Sunday, that's all."
"No," he said, staring out the window. "Ralph didn't tell me about Rhonda. I was as surprised as you."
"Maybe not in the same way," she said levelly.
"No, probably not," he agreed. "Listen, let me lay out the whole scenario for you before you ask any more questions, 'cause I'm doin' a bad job of answering 'em."
He glanced over at the glass case at his shoulder and lifted out a ceramic creamer in the shape of a cow.
"Do me a favor," he said, handing her the creamer, "And look at this little cow pitcher thing real hard while I talk. The boys across the street are getting restless."
She did as he asked, although it went against every instinct. She would have been much happier, she realized, pushing over the cabinet and storming out of the shop.
Instead, she listened as he explained about hearing their conversation, tracking her down, and that he hadn't talked to Ralph at all since Sunday.
Under normal circumstances, she might have been angry about the tracking her down part. But under the current circumstances, she decided, that was a very small thing to be concerned about.
"So what I need to know," he said at the end of the speech, "Is what you're working on here that would make somebody send two sides of beef from the local Muscle Beach Club to follow you. I'm guessing it's not 'cause you look so nice in that dress."
She glanced up in surprise and caught the frozen look on his face.
"Christ," he said softly, "I really didn't mean to say that. Maybe we'd better just call the cops and I'll go ahead and slope off to the Old Fed's Home."
She smiled in spite of herself as she put the little ceramic cow back in its spot on the shelf.
"I'll take my chances with you," she said softly. "On a bad day, you're my best bet."
He shrugged noncommittally.
"Yeah, well," he said, "We'll see what you say if I get us out of here without a fire fight. So tell me what you're working on."
"Oh," she said, picking up a green glass dolphin and turning it over in her hands. "It's an environmental impact case. Some local activists petitioned our office to help them file a 'friend of the court' brief on the effects of a proposed land deal on the Monterey peninsula. If it goes forward, it will change the shape of the land delta off the coast and could potentially impact migratory patterns for a number of species. They're concerned that it hasn't received the requisite due diligence from the zoning authority and there may be kickbacks involved. They think a filing will help them raise money for a proper-use study. I'm here doing interviews."
He nodded.
"Some tree huggers want you to help 'em stop a dirty land deal."
She blinked
"Um, yes," she said. "Only they're whale huggers I think."
"Right," he said. "Okay, here's the scenario. These no-neck garbanzos are provided courtesy of the local Uncle Moneybags-"
He raised his eyebrows and she obediently filled in, "Fiodor Glenn."
He blinked.
"You kidding?" he said.
She shook her head.
He inhaled sharply.
"O-kay," he said, "With a name like 'Fiodor,' stands to reason you'd have a chip on your shoulder. So Fiodor sends the brain trust around to check up on you. See who you're talking to."
He looked down again.
"Who're you talking to?"
She sighed.
"Well, nobody yet," she said. "Since I got in yesterday afternoon I haven't done much except-"
She looked down at the green glass dolphin. Saying, 'except cry and feel horrible about myself,' sounded much too pathetic to say out loud.
"Except be miserable," he said.
She looked up and found him studying her with such an intense expression of understanding, that she felt the tears start in her eyes again. She drew in a shuddering breath, trying to reassert control.
He didn't hold her or pat her hand or put an arm around her shoulder. He didn't touch her at all. If he had, she knew, she would have gone to pieces right there in the shop. He just nodded and looked back toward the window. The muscles in his strong jaw clenched.
"So you haven't talked to the locals yet," he said tightly. "That's good. That means Fiodor's flunkies are still playing watch-and-wait. We'll let 'em do plenty of both. You want that picture?"
He looked back down at her and cocked an eyebrow.
"It's a beaut," he said. "I'm gonna get it. You keep playing with your dolphin there and wander over toward that inside door."
He cocked his head toward a door in the back wall marked "Employees Only." She frowned.
"What are we going to do?" she said.
"Give Heckyl and Jeckyl heartburn," he answered.
She did as instructed. She carried the dolphin closer to the inside door and pretended to study it under the halogen micro-spotlight hanging from the ceiling there.
It was strange the things you could get used to, she thought. A couple of years ago, being trailed by hired goons would have been a noteworthy experience. But after a few years of gangsters, Russians, and the American Nazi Party, she could almost take a couple of thugs in stride. Still, she was glad she didn't have to do it alone.
The cash register chimed and Bill appeared at her elbow with a flat package wrapped in brown paper.
"Ready?" he said.
She nodded and placed the dolphin carefully on a nearby display stand.
Bill took a step forward and she let him herd her backwards toward the Employees Only door.
"Step on through, perfectly normal," he said under his breath. "The little girl behind the counter'll be too shocked to say anything, I guarantee."
Just as he said, Pam turned silver doorknob and pushed the door open. She stepped through into a plain white room lined with neatly stacked cardboard boxes. Bill stepped in behind her and closed the door. They walked quickly past a time clock and small card table supporting a Mr. Coffee that was bubbling through the end of brew cycle.
Bill inhaled deeply as they walked through a cloud of coffee scented air.
"First thing we do," he said. "Is coffee-up. I ain't had any crank since LA. I'm starting to DT."
She nodded as he reached past her to push the safety bar on the back door.
"I wouldn't mind a cup, eith-" she started, but was interrupted by a small voice from the inner door.
"Um, excuse me?" said the pretty blonde shopgirl. "I'm sorry-"
"No problem, honey," Bill said, flashing his brightest megawatt grin, "You're doin' a great job. We'll let ourselves out."
Pam suppressed a grin as she slid past his arm and stepped through the open door into the service alley behind the shop.
The bright sunlight here was almost blinding and the heat fell on her like a physical force. She blinked up at the pale blue and cloudless sky.
The silence suddenly asserted itself on her mind and she looked over to find Bill staring at her. The instant their eyes met, he coughed and looked away.
"Okay," he said and cleared his throat, "We gotta get you moved to a new base of operations while Heckyl and Jeckyl are still tryin' to find their backsides with both hands and a flashlight. You're at the Sea Spray Inn, right?"
She blinked.
"Yes," she said slowly. "I was that easy to find?"
He shrugged and started up the alley. She took two quick steps to catch up.
"It's not your fault," he said, glancing down at her as she fell into step beside him. "Most folks don't know the basics of falling off the map. There are three main rules. Don't use a credit card. Don't use your own name or any variation of it."
"Including maiden name," he added, glancing at her meaningfully. "And, most important, don't tell your unmarried lady receptionist where to reach you in an emergency, 'cause to her, three dozen roses are an emergency."
Pam cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Three dozen roses?" she said.
"They're in the car," he said. "If you don't want 'em I'll make sure the girl at the coffee shop has a really good day."
"How are you going to convince Carlisle to reimburse you for three dozen roses?" she said.
"I'm on a roll with Carlisle," he said. "I'll tell him they're for Brownie. He'll fall down tryin' to sign the chittie faster."
"Who's Brownie?" she said.
"I'll explain it later," he said. "When you see the car."
That seemed to finish the conversation and Pam began to mentally tick off the things she'd need to do to check out of the Sea Spray. Reflexively, she sidestepped a puddle of greasy water and the movement sparked a memory that abruptly thrust her back in time to Christmas Eve eight months ago.
The circumstances were completely different. She'd been driving herself crazy with wild fantasies about Bill. She'd been afraid for their safety. On some level, she'd still been angry with Ralph over his affair with Alicia.
Come to think of it, she realized, it wasn't that different. Although this time the evening was not going to end with Bill in her bed.
She had known at the time, the memory of that one night would have to last. And it had. She hated to admit, even to herself, how many times she'd browsed through the mental snapshots of that night.
One in particular, had gotten considerable mileage in her imagination. That was the picture of Bill, the thin dawn light touching his hair and face as he whispered, "Beautiful," just before she eased herself down over him.
With a start, she realized he was saying something.
She caught "-on me, if you want," and then he looked down at her.
"Uh, what?" she said intelligently.
"Coffee," he said, looking at her oddly. "On me, if you want it. I'll get it while you're packing and meet you outside the hotel. Here we are."
She looked up in confusion. There was the turquoise and white gingerbread trimmed house. He had indeed led her out of the alley and to the front of the Inn while she'd been lost in thought.
"Um, sure," she said, "Coffee sounds great. Light, no-"
"No sugar," he finished, "No problem. If you get done before I get back, don't leave the building. Wait for me in the lobby."
She nodded her agreement and waited for him to turn away. He continued to stare at her.
"What?" she said at last, feeling a blush start in her chest.
"Well, go on in," he said, cocking his head at the door. "Waiting inside starts now."
"Right," she said. "Sorry. I'm just a little…"
Her voice trailed off and she looked up at the light blue sky.
"You're off balance," he said, quietly. "I know. It'll get better. But not for a while."
She nodded, blinking hard and moved to step into the lobby.
She turned when she got inside the leaded glass doors and watched him walk back up the street. His long, lean legs covering the ground in easy strides.
She gave herself a little shake and moved to the staircase, nodding at the girl at the desk as she passed.
Upstairs, she walked to her room, the last on the first floor and the one with the best partial view of the sea.
She'd been lucky to get it in season, she thought, as she slotted in her room key. Thanks to that last minute cancellation. She hoped the lodging Bill came up with would at least be pleasant enough to work in. She had limitless faith in him as a friend, but somewhat more circumscribed faith in his taste in accommodations.
She pushed open the door and froze. She'd heard about rooms being ransacked. Now she knew what it looked like first hand.
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- continued -
Rafael's Mermaid
Author's Note:
This concludes the first posted installment of Rafael's Mermaid. Sign up for an Author Alert to be notified when the continuation of Part 2 is published.