She went over Los Laureles Grade to Highway 68 and picked up Highway 1 in Monterey, entering the coastal fog bank. As she drove north up the coast toward Santa Cruz she thought again, I don’t feel up to this, and admitted to herself that her thesis was in danger. Her little group of subjects faced so many conflicts from so many directions right now-Green River, Danny’s death, the suspicions, Britta’s increasing outrageousness-maybe she should put off the meeting.

Oh, well, I’m halfway there, might as well struggle through it, she thought, and then, just at the turnoff for Manresa Beach, she felt a thunk, then a thud. Flap-flap-flap. Left front tire, damn Michelins too. Even at sixty-five the Subaru steered straight and the brakes didn’t let her down. Pulling over to the side of the road, Elizabeth read the number taped to the back of her mobile phone and punched it in.

The tow truck took some time. She gave up and called her committee chair and postponed her meeting for a week. She felt delivered, light. The sand came right up to the road on the side opposite her and she could smell the ocean. Leaning against the car, her back to the freeway, she let her hair fly in the breeze and watched the gulls.

A long yellow truck finally pulled up behind her. A man got out of the cab.

She squinted behind her sunglasses, recognizing him. Ben Cervantes. And felt huge relief and a little excitement. No new stranger to deal with, just Ben from the neighborhood. Who looked really good smiling at her.

“Buenos días, Elizabeth,” Ben said. “Looks like you could use a change.”

His words, following her thinking so closely, startled her, and she felt herself smiling back. “I have a spare in the trunk,” she said. While he went to work with the spare and the tools, jacking up the Subaru, unscrewing the nuts on the tire, she folded her arms and watched.

She had always felt comfortable with Ben. He had clarity in his eyes that she took to be a high level of awareness, although she didn’t really know. Most of the locals saw through a thick gray film of murk. Maybe he didn’t, or maybe she was just much more sensitive to him for some reason.

For two years at the parties, Ben had come alone or with Danny, never with a woman. Then on Saturday night he had brought the attractive woman along, the pseudo-Hungarian who Elizabeth already knew was a lawyer. Were they close? She wouldn’t have thought Ben would-

Or maybe Ben’s type was different from what Elizabeth had thought.

He knelt at her feet, putting on the spare. His hands in the leather gloves moved the big tire around effortlessly. He leaned over and she watched his back in the T-shirt, strong and V-shaped. The breeze blew across the dunes. The cars roared by on the highway.

“I didn’t know you worked for the emergency road crew.”

“New job,” he said.

“Are you a mechanic?”

“Used to do body work only, but I’m a quick study.”

He didn’t work for long. Minutes later, he slammed the flat into her trunk and pushed down the hood. “You’ll want to get that to a station. Don’t want to drive around without a spare.”

“It does make me nervous.”

“You’ll be okay.”

She stood there looking at him for a long moment. Time stretched out. He stuffed a rag in the pocket of his overalls then looked back at her, patient, with those clear brown eyes.

He added suddenly, “I’ll follow you if you’re worried. You can get it fixed later.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course.” Simple human kindness, she thought, he’s kind, and it felt like rain on her soul. “I’ll pay you for your time,” she said, but he smiled and shook his head.

He jumped back into the yellow truck, pulling the door shut behind him with a thump. She saw him making a radio call.

Observing his face in her rearview mirror, she started up her car. They cut through the fog and back into summer as they turned inland, driving past fields of red snapdragons and orange poppies. All the way down Carmel Valley Road, she studied him. He had lost his job and his nephew, both recently, yet here he was, out on the road helping her and whoever else needed that big helping hand. How must he feel, really?

Back home, she took her purse out and searched for her checkbook.

“Please,” Ben said. “My pleasure.”

“Oh, no. I owe you. This is business.”

“Not for me.”

He wasn’t joking. He meant, he had welcomed the opportunity. “Thank you,” Elizabeth said.

“De nada.”

She hesitated, then said, “Today is my birthday.”

“Really?”

“I’m thirty.”

His smile widened. “Happy birthday, then. I hope thirty is a good year for you.”

“Thanks again.”

“I’ll be going, then. Take care.” Reluctantly, she thought, he turned and walked off. She fitted the key into the lock and opened the door to her empty house and looked back.

He had stopped and was watching her. She saw the desire in his eyes.

She stepped inside and held the door open. He bounded back up the steps and came inside with her, kicking the door shut. Then he had her tight in his arms, supporting her, his hands tangling in her hair, his mouth on her mouth. He was searching for someone, the someone behind the great gray fortress of words and money.

And he found a way in. He found her, exposed her, soothed her fright, caressed her. She began to moan and twist in his arms.

She took his hand in hers and led him into the bedroom. They hardly spoke.

24

D EBBIE TOLD NINA ON THE PHONE that Thursday afternoon, “You better not be making all this up. People on Siesta Court are getting scared of each other. You really think the Cat Lady was murdered?”

“That’s what the medical examiner found.” Nina scratched her ankle, though the poison oak had faded away at last and the scratch was just a leftover nervous tic, like biting her thumbnail. Paul had gone to town to talk to Crockett again.

“Well, I asked around about the money. Whoever set the fires and killed Danny and Ruthie has to be found. But you have to understand, these are my friends.”

“Hear anything back yet?”

“I’ve heard plenty. But not about the sixty-two hundred fifty dollars.”

“Anything you have heard might help us.”

“Do you really believe your client, that young man-”

“Wish Whitefeather-”

“Didn’t kill Danny?”

“I know he didn’t, Debbie.”

“Of course, you’d have to say that. I don’t know why, but I believe you anyhow. Well, then. Darryl and Tory had a loud discussion this morning before Darryl left for work. I couldn’t help but hear part of it. Darryl told Tory he’s not happy and Tory was crying and carrying on. She’s pregnant.”

“Is it about your sister? Elizabeth?”

“Mm-hmm. So I called Elizabeth and I wanted to know whether she and Darryl-I mean, it’s none of my business in a way, but she is my sister-”

“Sure.”

“And she said, no, she doesn’t want to have anything to do with Darryl, but she has started seeing Ben Cervantes! I was thrilled to hear it, so I thought I better let Tory know she has nothing to worry about, so I gave her a buzz and left a message. And guess what. Talk about bad luck, I never thought something like this might happen-”

“What?”

“Darryl called home from school and picked up the message instead! And he called me and wanted to know everything. I told him that’s all I knew. I was very embarrassed. But also, I’m worried. Because Darryl acted so upset. He sounded jealous. Of Ben.”

“Not good,” Nina said.

Debbie heaved a sigh. “I was just trying to help out. So I called Elizabeth. And she said she was sorry she ever told me about Ben and she must have been out of her mind. I’m afraid I’ve complicated things.”

Nina thought about this, decided she couldn’t link it to Danny, arson, or murder, and said, “Has anything else happened, Debbie?”