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Authors: John D. MacDonald
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the lure. “You must be staying here in the Proctor place, ma’am. Used to come here years back for Sunday school picnics. Miz Proctor, she was in charge of the whole Sunday school.”
She looked up at him with exasperation. “That’s all mildly interesting, I suppose, but I really don’t feel … chatty.”
“Just being neighborly. I’m two cottages down. Moved in yesterday. Name is Doyle. Alexander Doyle. Alex. Used to live here and I just came on back to see how the old place looks. Got homesick, I guess. First time in the States in three years. Down in Venezuela on construction jobs.”
Her face darkened under the tan. “You don’t seem to take a hint, Mr. Doyle. I understand that I can’t order you off this beach, at least that area below the high-tide line. I would if I could. I do not feel like talking to you. I do not feel like giving you the opportunity to work the conversation around to the point where you can indulge your idle curiosity by asking dull questions about the colonel.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. What colonel? I’m not curious about anything. I wasn’t working around to anything. I was just being friendly.”
She stood up, facing him. From her face he guessed she was in the middle forties. She had the body of a far younger woman. “This cottage is where Colonel M’Gann lives. I am his sister. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Why, sure! It does now. I knew Jenna Larkin in high school. I missed the papers, being out of the country like I was, but folks here have told me about it. Honest, I didn’t know you people were in the Proctor place.”
“In that case, Mr. Doyle, I want you to accept my apology for being rude. We have both had a … bellyful of magazine people and would-be writers and amateur detectives and plain curiosity seekers. So we have become rather … antisocial. The traffic has dropped off considerably, but we still get a few—one tiresome little man just last week who had the gall to want to seethe colonel to ask him if he could ghost write a book for my brother. I chased him away and he became quite abusive. Horrible teenagers have walked here on the beach, pretending to choke each other and fall dead.”
“Then if I was you, I’d move away. You’re just renting the place, aren’t you? Or did you buy it?”
“We’re renting it, and your suggestion is most valid. I would dearly love to move away from here. But the colonel insists on staying.”
“I’m not curious. Well, to be honest, I guess I am, a little. Anybody would be, naturally. But I don’t care enough about it to come around asking questions. I guess it was a bad thing for you people but the way I look at it, unless that Jenna Larkin changed a hell of a lot since when I knew her, I guess she wasn’t what you’d call a big loss. Hope I haven’t said the wrong thing.”
“You haven’t, Mr. Doyle. Indeed you haven’t! If any human being could be classified as worthless, Jenna could. And it is a terrible waste for my brother to keep on brooding about her. I hope I wasn’t too rude to you.”
“I don’t mind. I understand how you’d feel about people trying to strike up a conversation. As long as I’ll be a neighbor for a while, I just won’t talk about it to you at all.”
“That will be splendid, Mr. Doyle. You’re one of the few sympathetic people I’ve found in this … truly dreadful community. They seem more like animals down here than people, really. I don’t mean to offend you, of course.”
“I guess it’s because there isn’t much goes on here, and when something does, they like to make a big thing about it.”
Suddenly the gray surface of the water was torn and boiled just fifty feet away, and the small bait fish leaped in panic from predatory jaws. He cast beyond the area, yanked the dude into it, and felt the strike. He brought in a Spanish mackerel of about two and a half pounds.He tossed it
She looked up at him with exasperation. “That’s all mildly interesting, I suppose, but I really don’t feel … chatty.”
“Just being neighborly. I’m two cottages down. Moved in yesterday. Name is Doyle. Alexander Doyle. Alex. Used to live here and I just came on back to see how the old place looks. Got homesick, I guess. First time in the States in three years. Down in Venezuela on construction jobs.”
Her face darkened under the tan. “You don’t seem to take a hint, Mr. Doyle. I understand that I can’t order you off this beach, at least that area below the high-tide line. I would if I could. I do not feel like talking to you. I do not feel like giving you the opportunity to work the conversation around to the point where you can indulge your idle curiosity by asking dull questions about the colonel.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. What colonel? I’m not curious about anything. I wasn’t working around to anything. I was just being friendly.”
She stood up, facing him. From her face he guessed she was in the middle forties. She had the body of a far younger woman. “This cottage is where Colonel M’Gann lives. I am his sister. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Why, sure! It does now. I knew Jenna Larkin in high school. I missed the papers, being out of the country like I was, but folks here have told me about it. Honest, I didn’t know you people were in the Proctor place.”
“In that case, Mr. Doyle, I want you to accept my apology for being rude. We have both had a … bellyful of magazine people and would-be writers and amateur detectives and plain curiosity seekers. So we have become rather … antisocial. The traffic has dropped off considerably, but we still get a few—one tiresome little man just last week who had the gall to want to seethe colonel to ask him if he could ghost write a book for my brother. I chased him away and he became quite abusive. Horrible teenagers have walked here on the beach, pretending to choke each other and fall dead.”
“Then if I was you, I’d move away. You’re just renting the place, aren’t you? Or did you buy it?”
“We’re renting it, and your suggestion is most valid. I would dearly love to move away from here. But the colonel insists on staying.”
“I’m not curious. Well, to be honest, I guess I am, a little. Anybody would be, naturally. But I don’t care enough about it to come around asking questions. I guess it was a bad thing for you people but the way I look at it, unless that Jenna Larkin changed a hell of a lot since when I knew her, I guess she wasn’t what you’d call a big loss. Hope I haven’t said the wrong thing.”
“You haven’t, Mr. Doyle. Indeed you haven’t! If any human being could be classified as worthless, Jenna could. And it is a terrible waste for my brother to keep on brooding about her. I hope I wasn’t too rude to you.”
“I don’t mind. I understand how you’d feel about people trying to strike up a conversation. As long as I’ll be a neighbor for a while, I just won’t talk about it to you at all.”
“That will be splendid, Mr. Doyle. You’re one of the few sympathetic people I’ve found in this … truly dreadful community. They seem more like animals down here than people, really. I don’t mean to offend you, of course.”
“I guess it’s because there isn’t much goes on here, and when something does, they like to make a big thing about it.”
Suddenly the gray surface of the water was torn and boiled just fifty feet away, and the small bait fish leaped in panic from predatory jaws. He cast beyond the area, yanked the dude into it, and felt the strike. He brought in a Spanish mackerel of about two and a half pounds.He tossed it
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