Beach Strip

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by John Lawrence Reynolds


  Tina rummaged through every site on Google about Mel’s arrest, learning the details on the three murders, including Gabe’s. She now knows more about it than I do.

  The day after Hayashida and I had tea, Helen Detwiler called, her voice warm and sweet. She apologized for her unthinking response to Walter Freeman’s suggestion that I might be stealing money from the retirement home and told me I could have my job back whenever I wished. In fact, they hoped it would be very soon, because the replacement woman wasn’t … well, she just wasn’t as efficient or as well-liked among the staff as I was.

  I told her I would think about it.

  Dewey Maas called. I told him I was considering getting a dog to keep me company when I went for walks on the beach. He said that sounded like a good idea. Then he had a better one: he needed someone to work the front of his business for him, handling appointments, selling dog food and toys, keeping the books, all of that. “We would have so much fun working together,” he pleaded.

  I said I would think about it.

  Mike Pilato called twice, the first time to congratulate me on my detective work, prompting me to thank him for the services of J. Michael Robinson. The second time, he was more direct.

  “Now that you know I’m not such a bad guy,” he said, “maybe we can have dinner sometime, a little veal Marsala, nice wine. You know, not right away. When you get over all this stuff, your husband and that testa di cazzo Holiday. You never asked me about him, Holiday. You should have. That’s the question you never asked me. I would have told you what I thought about him, what I knew about him. I knew lots. Not as much as you found out, maybe, but lots.”

  I asked why he didn’t just volunteer the information, why he didn’t tell me what he knew without me asking.

  “Volunteer?” I might have asked him to kiss the pope. “Hey, listen to me. Nobody volunteers anything, okay? Nobody but an idiota. You ask, maybe I answer. You don’t ask, you get nothing. That’s how the world works. I think a woman like you, been around the block a few times, right? I think maybe a woman like you should know that.”

  “Been around the block a few times?” I was prepared to scream at him from a safe distance.

  “Relax, relax. I mean you’re a woman as tough, maybe as smart as a man. Don’t meet many women like you anymore. You know your way around, you can still be a lady. Doesn’t mean you’re a puttana. You think maybe I invite a whore to have dinner with me? I like nice women. Nice sexy woman like you, maybe have dinner with me. You heard of a restaurant called Omera?”

  “Is it a local place?”

  “No, no, no. It’s in Positano. On the Amalfi Coast.”

  “You want me to go to Italy with you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “For dinner.”

  “And a little longer. When you’re ready. When you’re feeling ready.”

  I said I would think about it.

  Two days later, Tom Grychuk called. It was Grychuk who had phoned Walter Freeman’s office when he saw me get into Mel’s car, as he had agreed to do when I called him from Vancouver that morning. When the police arrived at the lift bridge, it was Grychuk who told them to listen for a gunshot, which was enough to send them running toward the car just as I fired the Glock, aiming behind Mel’s head.

  Grychuk reminded me that his wife had died a year earlier, which made it easier for him to ask if I would like to discuss the case, we two law-abiding conspirators, over dinner some evening. Not in Italy. Right here in town.

  I said I would think about it.

  LAST WEEK, J. MICHAEL ROBINSON PHONED to say I might have to come to his office and make a deposition for Mel’s sentencing hearing. “I understand he has told the police just about everything they need to know,” he said. “The Crown will probably want a statement from you to corroborate things and ensure that he is not leaving out information vital to the case or vital to similar cases. But you shouldn’t need to appear in court.”

  “What does a deposition involve?” I asked. I already knew. I just wanted him to keep talking.

  “For the most part,” he said, “it will be a matter of you and I discussing the case, recorded on video. This will be submitted to the Crown. If necessary, a second deposition, with the prosecution in attendance, may be required to settle their concerns.”

  I asked him what the J stood for.

  He said it stood for Jonathan.

  I asked him if there was a Mrs. Jonathan Robinson.

  He said there was. His mother.

  “Tell you what, Jonathan,” I said. “I’ll show up for the deposition on the condition that you let me call you Jonathan from now on, and that sometime in the new year you take me out for dinner twice. Once at a local Italian restaurant and, if the night goes as well as I hope, a second time at a restaurant I’ve heard about on the Amalfi Coast.”

  He said he would think about it.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  After being absent so many years from writing mystery fiction, I needed something of a support system to complete this tale, especially because I chose to write in a woman’s voice. I found it in a number of people, including the usual suspects—my darling wife, Judy, and my illustrious agent, Hilary McMahon. The professional and caring assistance offered by Iris Tupholme, Noelle Zitzer, Lorissa Sengara, Allegra Robinson, and the balance of the editorial staff at HarperCollins Canada made the entire experience a delight. Others were both helpful and encouraging, especially Deborah Grey and James McMahon. I am grateful to them all. As I suspect Josie would be.

  About the Author

  JOHN LAWRENCE REYNOLDS is the author of more than two dozen works of fiction and non-fiction. He has written six previous mystery novels and is a two-time winner of the Arthur Ellis Award. His many non-fiction books include Free Rider, which won the National Business Book Award, as well as The Naked Investor and Bubbles, Bankers & Bailouts. Shadow People, his bestselling book on secret societies, has been published in sixteen countries. A former president of the Crime Writers of Canada, Reynolds lives in Burlington, Ontario. Visit him online at wryter.ca.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Praise

  ADVANCE PRAISE FOR BEACH STRIP

  “John Lawrence Reynolds returns to the world of crime fiction with this terrific novel about a woman who refuses to believe that her husband committed suicide. It’s witty, tense and gripping, and features a beautifully realized lead character in the shape of mouthy, stubborn Josie Marshall. The beach strip is a delight to wander, a character in itself.”

  PETER ROBINSON, author of Before the Poison and Bad Boy

  “A micro-universe populated with characters that are real, sometimes tortured and always compelling. This is a great story, told by a great writer.”

  IAN HAMILTON, author of The Water Rat of Wanchai

  “John Lawrence Reynolds delivers the goods and a sassy heroine pitted against gangsters, perverts and low-life characters in this superb murder mystery that never takes its finger off the trigger.”

  JOHN FarroW, author of River City and City of Ice

  PRAISE FOR JOHN LAWRENCE REYNOLDS

  “One of Canada’s hottest crime writers.”

  TORONTO STAR

  “A beautifully crafted crime story. With this book, John Lawrence

  Reynolds assumes a place in the first rank of Canadian crime writers.”

  QUILL & QUIRE on Gypsy Sins

  “A tough, bitter and splendidly written book.”

  BOOKS IN CANADA on Solitary Dancer

  “Quite simply, a terrific book.”

  THE GLOBE AND MAIL on And Leave Her Lay Dying

  Credits

  Cover photo: Paul Knight/Trevillion Images

  Author photo: Ben Soucie

  Cover design: Lisa Bettencourt

  Copyright

  Beach Strip

  Copyright © 2012 by John Lawrence Reynolds.

  All rights reserved under Internationa
l and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition © MAY 2012 ISBN: 978-1-443-40816-5

  Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

  FIRST EDITION

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

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  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Reynolds, John Lawrence

  Beach strip / John Lawrence Reynolds.

  ISBN 978-1-44340-814-1 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-44341-095-3 (library hardcover)

  I. Title.

  PS8585.E94B42 2012 C813’.54 C2012-900616-5

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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