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The Ocean Street Motel in Floral Beach, California, is located, oddly enough, on Ocean Street, a stone’s throw from the sea wall that slants ten feet doard the Pacific The beach is a wide band of beige trah tide every day Public access is afforded by a set of concrete stairs with apier, built out into the water, is anchored at the near end by the office of the Port Harbor Authority, which is painted a virulent blue

Seventeen years ago, Jean Timberlake’s body had been found at the foot of the sea wall, but the spot wasn’t visible from where I stood At the tiuilty to voluntary ed his tune Every violent death represents the climax of one story and an introduction to its sequel My job was to figure out horite the proper ending to the tale, not easy after so much time had elapsed

Floral Beach has a population so n anywhere The town is six streets long and three streets deep, all bunched up against a steep hill largely covered eeds ThereOcean: three restaurants, a gift shop, a pool hall, a grocery store, a T-shirt shop that rents boogie boards, a Frostee-Freeze, and an art gallery Around the corner on Pal closes down after five o’clock except the restaurants Most of the cottages are one-story board-and-batten, painted pale green or white, built in the thirties by the look of them The lots are small and fenced, many with power boats moored in the side yards Sometimes the boats are in better condition than the properties on which they sit There are several boxy stucco aparts with names like the Sea View, the Tides, and the Surf ’n’ Sand The whole town reseuely faht have spent a suh, painted lith of sidewalk in front that peters out into patchy grass I’d been given a room on the second floor with a balcony that allowed me to look left as far as the oil refinery (surrounded by chain-link fence and posted arning signs) and to ht as far as Port Harbor Road, a quarter of a olf course is tucked up along the hill, but the kind of people who stay there would never come down here, despite the cheaper rates

It was late afternoon and the February sun was setting so rapidly it appeared to be defying the laws of nature The surf thundered dully, waves washing toward the sea wall like successive buckets of soapy water being sloshed up on the sand The as picking up, but it made no sound, probably because Floral Beach has so few trees The sea gulls had asse on the curb to peck at foodstuffs spilling out of the trashcans Since it was a Tuesday, there weren’t many tourists, and the few hardy souls who had walked the beach earlier had fled when the telass door ajar and went back to the table where I was typing up a preliminary report

My naator, licensed by the state of California, operating ordinarily in the town of Santa Teresa, ninety-five eles Floral Beach is another hour and a half farther up the coast I’m thirty-two years old, twice married, no kids, currently unattached and likely to reiven my disposition, which is cautious at best At the iti withrebuilt My stay at the Ocean Street Motel was being underwritten by Bailey Fowler’s father, who had hired me the day before

I had just moved back into my office, newly refurbished by California Fidelity, the insurance coe for my services The walls had been painted a fresh white The carpeting was slate blue, a short-pile wool shag that cost twenty-five bucks a yard (exclusive of padding and installation, folks) I know this because I peeked at the invoice the day the carpet was laid My file cabinet was in place, ed near the French doors as usual, a new Sparklett’s water cooler plugged in and ready to provide both hot and cold trickling water, depending on which button I pushed This was classy stuff and I was feeling pretty good, almost recovered from the injuries I’d sustained on the last case I worked Since I’m self-employed, I pay my disability insurance before I even pay my rent

My first i processes had accelerated suddenly I guessed him to be in his seventies, somewhat shrunken from an impressive six foot four It was clear fro that he’d recently dropped maybe thirty pounds He looked like a farrappling with the eleht back, with ginger strands still visible along his ears His eyes were ice blue, brows and lashes sparse, his pale skinhands he kept folded together on the crook of it were as steady as stone and speckled with liver spots He’d been helped into the chair by a woht be a nurse or a paid coh to drive himself around