Killer, Come Back to Me

“A fool can’t answer that,” I said.

He nodded at the sea breaking over rocks, toward a point where fog bands crossed a jut of land that fingered out to sea. “Look beyond that curve, Hank? There’s an old California mission out there.”

“Under water?”

“About twenty feet under. On a clear day when the sun cuts down, the water’s a blue diamond with the mission held inside it.”

“Still there, intact?”

“Most of it. They say some of the first padres built it, but the land settled slowly and the little cathedral sank. On clear days you can see it lying there in the water, very quiet. Maybe it’s just a ruin, but you imagine you see the whole thing; the stained glass windows, the bronze tower bell, the eucalyptus trees in the wind—”

“Seaweed and the tide, huh?”

“Same thing. Same effect. I wanted Sherry to see it. I wanted to walk along the cliff bottoms, over those big rocks with her, and bake in the sun. Bake all the old poison out of me and all the doubt out of her. The wind does that to you. I thought maybe I could show Sherry the little cathedral and maybe in a day or so she’d breathe easy and sit on a rock with me to see if we could hear the bell in the church tower ringing.”

“That’s from the bell-buoy at the point,” I said.

“No,” he said, “that’s farther over. This bell rings from in the water, but you have to listen close when the wind dies.”

“I hear a siren!” I cried suddenly, whirling. “The police!” Hamphill took my shoulder. “No, that’s only the wind in the holes of the cliff. I’ve been here before. I know. You get used to it.”

I felt my heart pounding. “Boss, what do we do now?”

I shut up. I looked down at the white concrete road shimmering in the night and the fog. I saw the car sweeping down the highway, cutting through the fog with scythes of light.

“Boss,” I said. “Take a look out this window.”

“You look for me.”

“A car. It’s Finlay’s sedan, I’d know it anywhere!”

Hamphill didn’t move. “Finlay. I’m glad he’s come. He’s the one that caused all this. He’s the one I want to see. Finlay.” He nodded. “I want to talk to him. Go let him in, quietly.”

* * *

The car ground to a stop below; its doors burst open. Men piled out, crossed the drive swiftly, crossed the porch; one ran around back. I saw guns with fog wet on them. I saw white faces with fog on them.

The downstairs bell rang.

I went down the stairs alone, empty-handed, clenched my teeth together, and opened the door. “Come on in,” I said.

Finlay thrust his bodyguard in ahead of himself. The guard had his gun ready and was pop-eyed to see me just standing there. “Where’s Hamphill?” Finlay demanded. A second gunsel stayed just outside the door.

“He’ll be down in a minute.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t try any rough stuff.”

“Oh, hell,” I said.

“Where’s Sherry?”

“Upstairs.”

“I want her down here.”

“Particular, aren’t you?”

“Shall I hit him?” Finlay’s bodyguard asked him.