Skeleton Sea

CHAPTER 50

We dragged out of Oscar Flynn's house and squinted at the view from the hillside down to the sea.

The morning's fog had vanished.

The sun was low on the horizon and the ocean was golden.

The dazzling daylight blinded me, for a moment, to the near view. And then I spotted the figure sitting on the carved stone bench at the edge of Flynn's patio.

Lanny Keasling. He wore his blue Sea Spray windbreaker. He held a paper grocery bag on his lap. He waited for us to approach — casting a brief curious look at Violet Russell as she swept by, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape, heading for the stairs down to the driveway.

When we drew up in front of Lanny he handed the bag to Tolliver.

Tolliver opened the top of the bag, where Lanny had crimped it, and looked inside. He took his time. And then he said, “How about that.”

Walter nosed in and had a look.

And then it was my turn.

How about that, indeed.

Half an hour later, after Lanny finished his story, Tolliver offered him a ride back into town. Lanny politely declined, saying he had a ride waiting.

I spotted the figure down below in Flynn's driveway. Her orange-blond hair bushed out from beneath a ball cap and she hunched in a blue windbreaker.

As Walter and Tolliver headed for the steps to the driveway, I turned back to Lanny. With my last shred of stamina, of sociability, I said, “You did good,” and I held out my hand.

He looked at me so intently that I figured he didn't trust what I was offering, and he surely had reason to wonder about anybody's offerings or assurances, but in the end he was polite Lanny Keasling and he bobbed his head and put his hand in mine and we shook.

I was offering respect. I hoped he understood that.