Dean Koontz - From the Corner of His Eye

Of the things you couldn't have seen coming, I'm the worst.

One of the coin seekers knocked against Junior, jarring him loose of his paralysis, but when he stumbled out of the line of fire of the second vending machine, a third machine shot quarters at him.

Of the things you couldn't have seen coming, I'm the worst ... I'm the worst ... I'm the worst....

Mocked by the silvery ping-ting-jingle of the maniac detective emptying his ghostly pockets, Junior ran.

KATHLEEN IN THE candlelight, her ginger eyes a glimmer with images of the amber flame. Icy martinis, extra olives in a shallow white dish. Beyond the tableside window, the legendary bay glimmered, too, darker and colder than Kathleen's eyes, and not a fraction as deep.

Nolly, telling the story of his day's work, paused as the waiter delivered two orders of the crab-cake appetizer with mustard sauce. “Nolly, Mrs. Wulfstan—enjoy!"

For the first few bites of crab in a light cornmeal crust, Nolly suspended their conversation. Bliss.

Kathleen watched him with obvious amusement, aware that he was savoring her suspense as much as he was the appetizer.

Piano music drifted into the restaurant from the adjacent bar, so soft and yet sprightly that it made the clink of silverware seem like music, too.

At last he said, “And there he is, hands in front of his face, quarters bouncing off him, these kids and this old lady scrambling around him to snare some change."

Grinning, Kathleen said, “So the gimmick actually worked."

Nolly nodded. “Jimmy Gadget earned his money this time, for sure."

The subcontractor who built the quarter-spitting coin boxes was James Hunnicolt, but everyone called him Jimmy Gadget. He specialized in electronic eavesdropping, building cameras and recorders into the most unlikely objects, but he could do just about anything requiring inventive mechanical design and construction.

“Couple quarters hit him in the teeth,” Nolly said.

“I approve of anything that makes business for dentists."

“Wish I could describe his face. Frosty the Snowman was never that white. The surveillance van is parked right there, two spaces south of the vending machines—"

“A real ringside view."

“So entertaining, I felt I should have paid for those seats. When the third machine starts whizzing coins at him, he bolts like a kid running a graveyard at midnight on a dare.” Nolly laughed, remembering.

“More fun than divorce work, huh?"

“You should've seen this, Kathleen. He's dodging people on the sidewalk, shoving them out of his way when he can't dodge them. Three long blocks, Jimmy and I watched the creep, till he turned the corner, three long blocks all uphill, and it's a hill that would kill an Olympic athlete, but he doesn't slow down once."

“Man had a ghost on his butt."

“I think he believed it."

“This is a crazy damn wonderful case,” she said, shaking her head.

“Soon as Cain is out of sight, we yank up our tricky vending machines, then haul the real ones out of the van and bolt 'em down again. Slick, fast. People are still picking up quarters when we finish. And get this-they want to know where the camera is."

“You mean-"

“Yeah, they think we're with Candid Camera. So Jimmy points to this United Parcel truck parked across the street and says the cameras are in there."

She clapped her hands in delight.

“When we pull away, people are waving across the street at the UPS truck, and the driver, he sees them, and he stands there, kind of confused, and then he waves back."

Nolly adored her laugh, so musical and girlish. He would have made all sorts of a fool out of himself, anytime, just to hear it.

The busboy swept the empty appetizer plates away as the waiter arrived simultaneously with small salads. Fresh martinis followed.

“Why do you think he's spending his money for all this tricky stuff?” Kathleen wondered, not for the first time.

“He says he has a moral responsibility."

“Yeah, but I've been thinking about that. If he feels some kind of responsibility ... then why did he ever represent Cain in the first place?"

“He's an attorney, and this grieving husband comes to him with a big liability case. There's money to be made."

“Even if he thinks maybe the wife was pushed?"

Nolly shrugged. “He can't know for sure. And anyway, he didn't get the pushed idea until he'd already taken the case."

“Cain got millions. What was Simon's fee?"

“Twenty percent. Eight hundred fifty thousand bucks."

“Deduct what he paid you, he's still close to eight big ones ahead."

“Simon's a good man. Now that he pretty much knows Cain pushed the wife, he doesn't feel better about representing him just because the payoff was big. And in the current case, he's not Cain's lawyer, so there's no conflict of interest, no ethics problem, so he's got a chance to set things right a little."

In January 1965, Magusson had sent Cain to Nolly as a client, not sure why the creep needed a private detective. That had turned out to be the business about Seraphim White's baby. Simon's warning to be careful of Enoch Cain had helped to shape Nolly's decision to withhold the information about the child's placement.

Ten months later, Simon called again, also regarding Cain, but this time the attorney was the client, and Cain was the target. What Simon wanted Nolly to do was strange, to say the least, and it could be construed as harassment, but none of it was exactly illegal. And for two years, beginning with the quarter in the cheeseburger, ending with the coin-spitting machines, all of it had been great fun.

“Well,” Kathleen said, “even if the money wasn't so nice, I'd be sorry to see this case end."

“Me too. But it's really not over till we meet the man."

“Two weeks to go. I'm not going to miss that. I've cleared all appointments off my calendar."

Nolly raised his martini glass in a toast. “To Kathleen Klerkle Wulfstan, dentist and associate detective."

She returned the toast: “To my Nolly, husband and best-ever boyfriend."

God, he loved her.

“Veal fit for kings,” said their waiter, delivering the entrees, and one taste confirmed his promise.

The glimmering bay and the shimmering amber candlelight provided the perfect atmosphere for the song that arose now from the piano in the bar.

Although the piano was at some distance and the restaurant was a little noisy, Kathleen recognized the tune at once. She looked up from her veal, her eyes full of merriment.

“By request,” he admitted. “I was hoping you'd sing."

Even in this soft light, Nolly could see that she was blushing like a young girl. She glanced around at the nearby tables.

“Considering that I'm your best-ever boyfriend and this is our song. . ."

She raised her eyebrows at our song.

Nolly said, “We've never really had a song of our own, in spite of all the dancing we do. I think this is a good one. But so far, you've only sung it to another man."

She put down her fork, glanced around the restaurant once more, and leaned across the table. Blushing brighter, she softly sang the opening lines of “Someone to Watch over Me."

An older woman at the next table said, “You've got a very lovely voice, dear."

Embarrassed, Kathleen stopped singing, but to the other woman, Nolly said, “It is a lovely voice, isn't it? Haunting, I think."

NORTHBOUND ON THE coastal highway, headed for Newport Beach, Agnes saw bad omens, mile after mile.

The verdant hills to the east lay like slumbering giants under blankets of winter grass, bright in the morning sun. But when the shadows of clouds sailed off the sea and gathered inland, the slopes darkened to a blackish green, as somber as shrouds, and a landscape that had appeared to be sleeping forms now looked dead and cold.