by Matt Coyle
Female voices approached on my left. Two women. Perfume commingling. More spicy than floral. Younger women. Probably thirties. The swish of a plastic shopping bag.
No threat.
Outdoors, away from the sanctuary of my home guarded by Midnight, my life morphed into constant threat-level assessment. Blind vigilance. Like animals hunting in the wild, criminals look for the weak and vulnerable to prey on. And I’d never been more vulnerable. Attitude and physical projection were the first line of defense. Head and chest high, confident walk. Even when I couldn’t see where I was walking.
And that was just for random criminals whom I’d never come across before. If any enemies from my past were on the hunt, I wouldn’t be able to see them coming. I had to find other ways to spot them. Or hear them. Or smell them. Even if I could, what then? Start shooting in the dark? Lock myself in my house twenty-four seven? Arm whoever I was with and tell them to shoot anyone I thought smelled suspicious?
There wasn’t a good answer. Nonetheless, I continued to use my heightened senses. If the day ever came, I intended to make it as difficult as possible for whoever tried to harm me.
“You get what you needed out of me?” I asked Moira as we walked at half speed down the sidewalk. Really three-quarter for me, half for her. Her short, sturdy legs fast twitched like an NFL running back’s. The speed of her gait was matched by the speed of her intellect.
“I won’t know until you give me your read on Turk.” Her voice trailed back to me from her slight forward position. A breeze pushed briny ocean air up from La Jolla Cove a quarter mile away.
“I’d like to, but it’s in braille.”
“Clever.” Her tone conveyed an opposite opinion.
“How stupid do you think I am?” I asked as we passed two sets of footsteps going in the other direction. A man and a woman, by their sound.
“Moderately. Why?”
“You asked me to be at your meeting with Turk because you knew I’d call him out on any bullshit and get under his skin.”
“Why would I do that?” I wished I could see the smirk on Moira’s face.
“So you could see how he’d react when pushed. You got to keep your distance but still have a bird’s-eye view while I did your dirty work.”
“Like I told you, my main reason was for your read on Turk. Deception or truth in his voice. The fact that you would probably antagonize him, like you do to just about everyone, was an added bonus. We can discuss it in the car. Right now, I need to focus on keeping you from getting run over.”
“Glad my disposition is a benefit to you.”
“It’s certainly not a benefit to you. Wait.” Moira stopped walking. The whoosh of cars passed by on the street. We’d come to the end of the sidewalk on the west side of Prospect. A railing was straight ahead. Cave Street circled below on its journey to Coast Boulevard. Moira turned us to the right. “Damn. I forgot there wasn’t a crosswalk here.”
“I can tap my way out into the middle of the street. That might stop traffic.”
“Don’t give me any ideas.” More car sounds. Prospect was one of the busiest streets in La Jolla and our stay at Muldoon’s now put us into early afternoon. Rush hour for shoppers and tourists.
Footsteps shuffled to a stop directly behind us. Single person. Long strides. Athletic. Something slightly heavier than tennis or running shoes, with a soft Vibram-type sole. Like a cop or military tactical boot. A silent stop to all but the blind.
The breeze off the ocean died, and I caught a deodorant scent mixed with a hint of sweat, and human musk. I knew the deodorant. Dove for Men. A brand I used when I had to fly and needed a travel-size antiperspirant. The person behind us was a man. Probably my age or younger.
Complete silence behind me against the sound of traffic on the street. An unnerving stillness. When I was a street cop, I learned to sense danger in the stillness of silence. I used that skill as a private investigator. Did I still have it? The tingle along my spine told me, yes. I turned my head to glance at the man. To spot the danger and let it know I was aware. But of course, I could only see shades of darkness.
“Okay.” Moira. “It’s clear. Step down. Let’s hustle.”
We stepped off the curb and walked at a speed that would have been about my normal gait before I lost my eyesight. I heard the soft-soled footsteps behind us. The Dove wearer was close. Moira stopped me after step twenty-one.
“Curb.”
We stepped up onto the sidewalk and Moira waited on the corner. Mr. Dove passed behind us as particles of his scent floated in the air. Again, my instincts forced me to turn in his direction.
“Did you see that guy?” I said in a low tone to Moira.
“What guy?”
“The guy who just passed behind us. Thirties, athletic. Maybe a cop, or a soldier?” I realized how stupid the cop or soldier reference sounded, but I didn’t care. I was riding adrenaline and instinct.
Moira’s arm shifted to the right like she turned her upper body.
“I don’t see a cop or a soldier or anyone like that. How can you tell what he looks like?”
“An educated guess. You didn’t see the guy behind us before we crossed the street?”
“No. I was watching traffic so you didn’t become a hood ornament. Is there a problem?”
“No.” Maybe. Probably not. I hadn’t been down to La Jolla since I was shot. Maybe the trip to my old haunts had put me on instinct overload.
Moira led me across another street. We walked for three or four minutes until she stopped and opened the door to her Honda Accord for me.
“I should have valeted the damn car and expensed Turk for it,” she said and waited for me to get into the passenger seat. I listened for her to enter through the driver’s door.
“Does that mean you’re taking the case?” I asked.
“I need to hear what you have to say first.” She started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Did you believe Turk when he said he loved Shay?”
“I think so, but I’ve never seen him in love. Maybe this is what being in love looks like for him.”
“Do you believe that he’d just move on with his life if he found out that Shay was seeing someone else?”
“The old Turk wouldn’t have blinked.” Inertia tried to pull me to the left and then pushed me back into the seat as Moira turned right and climbed the hill before Prospect bisected Torrey Pines Road. We stopped at the light at a forty-five-degree angle in astronaut blastoff position. “But he’s changed.”
“Do you believe him or not? Would he just move on with this life?” Terse. The old Moira.
“I don’t think so. He might be trying to convince himself that he would, but the guy I just listened to doesn’t want to lose his girlfriend.” Push to the right as Moira turned left onto Torrey Pines. “If your real question is would he hurt Shay or himself if we found out she’s cheating on him, the answer is no. Turk’s changed, but not in that way. If anything, he seems gentler.”
“You said if we found out she’s cheating on him.” She rode out the “e” sound of “we.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But I heard it, too. My subconscious had forced “we” out of my mouth instead of “you.” It told me, and Moira, what I didn’t want to, but needed to, hear.
“I’ll split the retainer sixty-forty.” The tommy-gun delivery. “After all, I’m doing all the driving.”
Despite my subconscious interjection, I didn’t want to be a private investigator anymore. To get tangled up in other people’s problems. Make a bad decision, or even a good one, and have people get hurt.
But I couldn’t avoid the fact that getting out of the house today and trying to solve the puzzle of Turk Muldoon’s emotions had given me a lift. A rare lightness. A purpose. My only purpose since I lost my eyesight had been to learn how to cope and adapt. I’d been isolated by my situation, but even more so by my own narrow goals.
I needed something new, even if it was something old. And
even if it was a charity case. Moira didn’t really need my help. I couldn’t be part of a two-person surveillance team. The best I could hope for was not to be a liability. But I could live with that. Losing my eyesight had forced me to be more dependent upon other people. At least it had so far. I was slowly regaining a sense of independence but couldn’t lie to myself that I was all the way back. I’d take the charity because I needed it to move forward. I wouldn’t even bother to swallow my pride.
Plus, I didn’t have to worry about the effect my decisions would have on other people’s lives. I wouldn’t be making any decisions. Moira would. My goal was to aid her however I could to help Turk. And be a friend to him again if we had to deliver bad news.
“Deal.” I shifted in my seat and thrust my right hand toward Moira. Her small hand grabbed mine and gave it one firm shake.
“I’m the Boss.” Punctuation on the end of the handshake.
“When haven’t you been?”
“Smart ass.”
“What’s the plan for Shay Sommers, boss?”
“I’ll pick you up at eight fifteen tonight, and we’ll drive down to La Jolla and park somewhere within view of Eddie V’s. If Shay follows the routine Turk mentioned after she gets off work, she’ll stop at Muldoon’s to see him and then go to La Valencia.”
“And you’ll be following her on foot?” A statement more than a question
“Yep.” We slowed to a stop. Had to be at the stoplight at Torrey Pines and La Jolla Shores Drive.
Moira’s response made me think back to working cases as a P.I. Tailing targets on foot used to be my favorite part of the job. Blending into the background. Following the mouse to the cheese. A lot of the time, there was no cheese, no payoff. The target was just out for a day of shopping or a night out on the town. Still, my body dosed me with a jolt of adrenaline every time I followed someone on foot. Even more so than in a car.
As much as I’d sworn off private investigative work, and couldn’t continue to do it anymore even if I wanted to, I knew I’d be envious as soon as Moira left the car tonight and tracked Shay Sommers on foot.
Reverberations from a life that wasn’t anymore.
CHAPTER FIVE
MY PHONE RANG as I sat on my deck and convinced myself I could smell the ocean miles away. Midnight stirred against my leg when I picked up the phone from the table.
“Rick?” Turk.
“Yeah.” A call I didn’t expect to get after our talk in Muldoon’s.
“I just wanted …” Uncertainty. A side he rarely me showed when I used to know him. “I didn’t expect you to show up with Moira MacFarlane today.”
“I can quit if it’s a problem.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” He paused. I didn’t fill the silence. Turk had something to say, but hadn’t figured out how to say it yet. I had time. A lot of it. “I should have visited you in the hospital in Santa Barbara or dropped by your house when you came back to San Diego.”
“No worries.” I wasn’t sure what to say. We hadn’t been close for a long time. I hardly ever saw him the last few years. Even when I’d used Muldoon’s as a meeting place for clients, Turk and I seldom went beyond hellos or head nods, if we saw each other at all. “I never gave it a thought, but thanks for mentioning it. We’re good.”
“I actually didn’t call to apologize.” A nervous chuckle. “I am sorry about not visiting you, but I really called to … to explain things about Shay.”
“Explain what?” I kept my voice light. I didn’t want him to reconsider talking to me about her.
“I know you don’t understand why I hired Moira. I can barely understand it myself.”
Another pause. I let the silence fill the void.
Turk finally continued, “Shay’s different from anyone I’ve ever dated. I … You remember the uilleann pipes hanging above the bar?”
Irish bagpipes handed down to Turk from his father. Turk took them off the wall every St. Patrick’s Day and played “Danny Boy.” Just like his father before him.
“Of course.”
“When I turned forty, I gave up on the idea of passing those down to a child. Gave up on the idea of keeping the restaurant in the family. My time for children had passed while I played the field like I was a twenty-year-old. I hadn’t given the idea of having children much thought when I was younger. I should have.”
The image of Colleen, my late wife, floated into my head. She often did. Still, fifteen years after her death. This time a memory. We were on Stearns Wharf in Santa Barbara eating ice cream cones and trying to one-up each other with goofy names we’d give our kids. I thought I had all the time in the world back then.
“It’s not too late,” I said. Unconvinced about my own timetable.
“You’re right. Shay made me see that. We’ve talked about having children. She’s changed my life.” His voice quavered. “That’s why deciding to hire a private investigator was so hard. It’s a shitty thing to do. The worst thing I’ve ever done, but … I have to do it.”
“We’ll find the truth.” Emotion I didn’t expect filled my voice. “Moira is the best private investigator there is in San Diego. We’ll get you what you need.”
I didn’t know how I could help Moira find the truth about Shay Sommers. Only that I had to try.
CHAPTER SIX
I TOOK MIDNIGHT for a walk around the neighborhood in the late afternoon. My cane in my right hand and the leash in my left. I lived on a cul-de-sac and we only walked around the block so we wouldn’t have to cross a street or venture up or downhill. Midnight stayed close to my side. He never went too far ahead or lagged too far behind like he sometimes did before Santa Barbara. He seemed to know that I now had limitations. I’d considered getting him guide dog training but was told he was too old. I decided to learn to use the cane, so the guide dog question was moot.
Somehow Midnight seemed to pick up some of the training on his own. Two weeks ago, he stopped me in front of a driveway when a car started to back out without seeing us. The driver apologized effusively once she realized that she could have hit us. Without Midnight, I might have been roadkill. Or, at least, road-injured.
We did five horseshoe laps, then retreated back home. I took off my sunglasses and set them down onto the bench next to the front door when I entered my house. Nobody but Midnight there to see my face and he didn’t seem to care.
I led him through the laundry room into the two-car garage that still had one car parked in it. My Honda Accord. I’d bought an Accord for P.I. work years ago. It was the most popular car in Southern California and blended into the background on a stakeout or tail. I guess I’d kept it because I hadn’t yet given up on the dream of getting my sight back.
I never had to look at the car, but knew it was there every time I went into the garage to work out on the used universal gym I got cheap from a former client. The ten to twelve grand I could get for the Accord would only buy me another two or three months of figuring things out before I found a new job. Whatever the hell that might be. The Accord stayed. For now.
I’d spent a lot of time in the garage the last few months. I hadn’t only worked hard to strengthen my other senses in an effort to offset my loss of eyesight, I’d strengthened my body, too. Instinct told me to fortify all my defenses and assets now that I’d lost my most important sense. I’d even cut way back on alcohol and sugar. The sugar was the hardest, but I had to admit I felt better physically than I had in a long time. Probably looked better too.
The strength of my mind was still up for debate, but I’d been working on that, too. Deciding to help Moira with Turk’s case was part of that work. A small step toward the light.
Leah called me at 7:00 p.m.
“How was your day?” The sweet voice I’d learned to rely on over the last nine months.
“Good. Moira came by today. We went down to La Jolla and saw Turk Muldoon.”
“Wow. Great.” Light, pleased voice, like I’d made her proud. “But I thought Muldoon’s did
n’t serve lunch.”
“We didn’t meet for lunch. Turk hired Moira to work a case.”
“Really? Why?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, but I’m helping out.” All the work I did as a P.I. was confidential. Even to the woman I loved.
“You’re helping her out?” Her voice went up at the end. “I don’t understand.”
“She asked me to help because I know Turk.” And to throw me a financial bone.
“Is this a dangerous case? How can you help?”
There it was. How could I help?
“I can trip bad guys with my white cane or hold up a tin cup for quarters in case we need to buy some gumballs.” I wanted to pull back the words as soon as they left my mouth.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Sad.
“I apologize. Reflex.” A situation where I should have swallowed my pride. My mind and my pride still needed a lot of work. “I’m going to help Moira in any way she thinks I can. She’s paying me and we both know I need the money.”
“We’ve talked about this, Rick. I can help you out with bills until you decide what you’re going to do.”
Charity from Leah or a somewhat charitable paycheck from Moira. Leah’s business had suffered since she’d taken up dual citizenship with me in San Diego. Her heart was bigger than her bank account, and I didn’t want to sap either.
“I know. I appreciate that, but Moira asked for my help.” If I took the money from Moira, I could feel that I’d somewhat earned it. With Leah, I’d be a burden.
“But you’re not a private investigator anymore.” Adamant. “That job almost got you killed, for God sake. I don’t want you to get hurt again. Physically or emotionally. I know what that job does to you.”
I told Leah things I’d never told anyone else. She showed me all of who she was, the good and the bad. That’s why I loved her. I showed her as much of me as I could. But not everything. No one knew all the bad. And no one ever would.
