Catherine Coulter - The Cove

Quinlan said quietly, not wanting to startle him, "She's asleep. I covered her with one of Amabel's afghans. But let's keep it down, all right, Sheriff?"

He turned slowly and gave Quinlan a glimpse of a smile. "Call me David. What the hell's going on? Why are you here?"

Quinlan said calmly, "I'm not really here to find out about Marge and Harve Jensen. They're just my cover. But their disappearance remains a mystery. And it's not just them. You were right. The former sheriff sent everything off to the FBI, including reports on two more missing persons-a biker and his girlfriend. Other towns up and down the coast have done the same thing. There's a nice fat file now on folks who have simply disappeared around here. The Jensens were the first, evidently, so I'm just sticking to them. I've told everyone I'm a PI because I don't want to scare these old folks. They'd freak if they knew an FBI agent was in their midst doing God knows what."

"It's a good cover, since it's real. I don't suppose you'll tell me what's really going on?"

"I can't, at least not right now. Can you be satisfied with that?"

"I guess I'll just have to be. You discover anything yet about the Jensens?"

"Yeah-all these respectable old folk are lying to me. Can you beat that? Your parents or grandparents Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

lying through their teeth over something as innocuous as a pair of old people in a Winnebago probably coming into town just to buy the World's Greatest Ice Cream?"

"Okay, then. They do remember Harve and Marge, but they're afraid to talk, afraid to get involved. Why didn't you come talk to me right away? Tell me who you were and that you were undercover?"

"I wanted to keep things under wraps for as long as possible. It makes it easier." Quinlan shrugged. "Hey, then if I didn't find anything, well, no harm done and who knows? I just might discover something about all these old folks who have disappeared."

"You would have succeeded in keeping your cover from me if two people weren't dead. You're just too good, too well trained." David Mountebank sighed, took a deep drink of the brandied tea James handed him, shuddered a bit, then grinned as he patted his belly. "That'll put optimism back in your pecker."

"Yeah," Quinlan said.

"What are you doing with Sally Brandon?"

“I just sort of hooked up with her the first day I was here. I like her. She doesn't deserve all this misery."

"More than misery. Seeing that poor woman's body banging up against the rocks at the base of those cliffs was enough to give a person nightmares for the rest of her life. But finding Doc Spiver with half his head blown off was even worse."

David took another drink of his tea. "I sure won't forget this remedy. You think that by any wild chance these two deaths are related in any way to the FBI missing persons files, to this Harve and Marge Jensen and all the others?"

"That's far-fetched for even my devious brain, but it makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

He was doing it to him again, David thought, without rancor. He was smooth, he was polite, he wasn't about to spill anything he didn't want to spill. It would be impossible to rattle him. He wondered why the devil he was really here. Well, Quinlan would tell him when he was good and ready.

David said slowly, "I know you won't tell me why you're really here, but I've got enough on my plate right now, so I don't plan to stew about it. You keep doing what you're doing, and if you can help me at all, or I can help you, I'll be here."

"Thanks, David. I appreciate it. The Cove is an inter-esting little town, don't you think?"

"It is now. You should have seen it three or four years ago. It was as ramshackle as you could imagine, everything run-down, only old folks here. All the young ones hightailed it out of town as soon as they could get. Then prosperity. Whatever they did, they did it well and with admirable planning.

"Maybe some relative of one of them died and left a • pile of money, and that person gave it to the town.

Whatever, the place is a treat now. Yep, it shows that folk can pull themselves out of a ditch if they put their minds to it. You've got to respect them."

David set his empty cup in the sink. "Well, I'm back to Doc Spiver's house. I've got exactly nothing, Quinlan."

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"If I uncover something, I'll call."

"I won't hold the lines open. I just realized that these two deaths have got to be real hard on the townsfolk. Here I am, just about accusing one of them of holding the woman prisoner before killing her.

Hey, I was even thinking those four old men already knew that Doc Spiver was dead when you volunteered to go fetch him for Hunker Dawson, that maybe they'd had something to do with it. That's just crazy. They're good people. 1 want to get this cleared up as soon as possible."

"As I said, I'll tell you if I find something."

David didn't know if that was the truth, but Quinlan sounded sincere enough. Well, he should. He'd been trained by the best of the best. David had a cousin, Tom Neibber, who had washed out of Quantico back in the early eighties, only gotten through the fourth week out of sixteen. He'd thought his cousin had what it took, but he hadn't made it.

David turned in the kitchen doorway. "It's funny, but inescapable. Sally wasn't expected here. Whoever killed Laura Strather was already holding her prisoner. If Sally hadn't heard the woman scream that first night she was here, you can bet no one else would have-but that's exactly what happened. If you and Sally hadn't been out there on the cliffs, that woman's body would never have been found. There would never have been a crime. Nothing, just another missing persons report put out by the husband.

"Now, Doc Spiver, that's different. The killer didn't care if Doc was found, just didn't care."

"Don't forget, it could be suicide."

"I know, but it doesn't smell right, you know?"

"No, I don't know, but you keep smelling, David. I do wonder that nobody heard a blessed thing. Hardly seems possible, does it? People are just too contrary to all agree with each other. Now, that must smell big time to you."

"Yeah, it does, but I still think the old folk are just afraid. I'll be around, Quinlan. Take care of Sally.

There's something about her that makes you want to put her under your coat and see that nothing happens to her."

"Maybe right now, but I imagine that usually if you tried that she'd punch your lights out."

"1 get the same feeling-probably she would have some time ago, but not now. No, there's something wrong there, but 1 fancy you're not going to tell me what."

"I'll be talking to you, David. Good luck with that autopsy."

"Oh, yeah, I got to call my wife. I think she can forget me being home for dinner."

"You married?"

"You saw my wedding ring first thing, Quinlan. Don't be cute. I even mentioned one of my kids. I've got three little ones, all girls. When I come through the front door, two of them climb up my legs and the third one drags a chair over to jump into my arms. It's a race to see who gets her arms around my neck first."

David gave him a lopsided grin, a small salute, and left.

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No one could talk about anything else. Just Doc Spiver and how two outsiders had found him lying in his rocking chair, blood dripping off his fingertips, half his head blown off.

He'd killed himself-everyone agreed to that-but why?

Terminal cancer, Thelma Nettro said. Her own grandpa had had cancer, and he would have killed himself if he hadn't died first.

He was nearly blind, Ralph Keaton said. Everybody knew he was pleased because when they got the body back, Ralph would lay him out. Yeah, Ralph said, Doc couldn't stand it that he wasn't really an honest-to-goodness doctor anymore.