The Protector

2

The Harrisburg library had a dark curved glass exterior and a spacious reference area with numerous computer stations. Cavanaugh and Jamie roamed the stacks, bringing various volumes to a table in an out-of-the-way area.

"Listen to this," Jamie whispered. "The bay at Carmel-by-the-Sea, as the town's really called, is at the tip of a huge underwater gorge that rivals the Grand Canyon. Geologists are fascinated by the place."

"That explains one of the books," Cavanaugh said.

"Also, the town's famous for its writers, artists, and photographers." Despite the emphasized word, Jamie managed to keep her voice low. "Ansel Adams lived there. So did Edward Wes-ton."

"I know who Adams is, but who's-"

"You said you thought the photography book Prescott had was pornographic."

"It had a kind of sexy name and a nude on the cover."

"Passion?"

"What?"

"Could the book have been called Forms of Passion? Take a look."

Jamie slid the book across. The photographer's name was Edward Weston. The cover had been removed, but when Ca-vanaugh flipped through the pages, he came to the most beautiful nude he'd ever seen.

"This was on the cover," he said.

A slender young woman sat with her head bowed, her forehead resting on an upraised knee. She was naked and yet no private part was exposed. Her sensuous pose reminded Cavanaugh of an earlier photograph of a pepper that looked like two people making love. Another page showed a magnificent seashell with the same erotic contours.

"Passion." Cavanaugh stared at the photos. "For everything."

Then Cavanaugh came to landscapes of what the book said was Point Lobos, near Carmel. Page after page showed the same beautifully rugged seacoast that had been in A Summer Place and Play Misty for Me.

"Is there any doubt Prescott was crazy about this area?" Jamie asked.

A librarian going by didn't seem to notice Cavanaugh's bruised face, but she did give Jamie a stare for talking.

Looking apologetic, Jamie peered down at the books. As soon as the librarian was gone, she whispered, "You said Prescott had an interest in golf. Pebble Beach is one of the most famous golf courses in the world-it's slightly north of Carmel. You said he had a gourmet's taste for food. According to this, Carmel has more great restaurants per block than just about anywhere. To nail down the connection, all we need to do is figure out how Robinson Jeffers fits in."

"I've already done that." Cavanaugh slid his notes across to her. "Jeffers and his wife, Una, visited Carmel in 1914 and were so struck by the area that they stayed there the rest of their lives. Jeffers bought land, hauled chunks of granite from the beach, and spent years building a stone house and a forty-foot tower. He called the place Tor House after some rock formations in England. He and Una died there."

Cavanaugh showed her a book of Jeffers's poems, drawing attention to two lines.

I built her a tower when I was young- Sometime she will die-

"Prescott and I discussed those lines about the tower when I first met him, but I had no idea what they referred to," Cavanaugh said.

"Now you do."

"Now I do."