coffee cups, one empty and lying on his daily report binder. His radio barked to life with a flow of static, and he reached over and turned it off before continuing.
“Lucy’s opening the door to the station. I’m pulling Danny out of the car—he’s all ‘fuck you, you piece of shit’—when suddenly he spits at me. Catches me right on the cheek.” He put his meaty paw on the spot where it had happened, as if nursing a bruise. “A big phlegmy goober, right here.”
Vertesi’s face screwed up at the thought of it.
“Exactly!” said Stankovics. “So I head-butted him and split his nose wide open. Apparently I said something like, ‘You’ve always been a snotty piece of shit, Roberts, but that should help your head cold.’ Anyway, I shove him, all bloodied up, through the door, and I look up and the shift sergeant’s standing there with a slice of pizza and a Coke. He saw the whole thing.”
“Is the cake suing?”
“No. Apparently his wife gets wind of this and says to him, ‘I’ll drop the assault charge against you if you drop yours against Stinky.’ It was a classy thing to do, even if it doesn’t help her in the long run, but the sergeant put me on a three-monthrotation of shit details anyway. I got five weeks to go. Luce has been amazing, though. She’s been getting guys to swing by with doughnuts and caffeine, so I’m set.”
“What’s happening here, anything?”
“Forensics guys just left, media vans were here earlier, but other than that, nothin’.”
“Anyone been down to the beach lookin’ around?”
“Nope. We restricted the news teams to the road above. I’ve been taking my leaks in the bushes, but the whole area seems quiet. You goin’ in?”
“No, just want to see the beach.”
“Well, you came at a good time. Shit, you could strip off and take a swim with the weather up here. Been tempted to myself, but I’d probably come out and find the sergeant standin’ there with my uniform.”
“Stink, I’ll catch you later.”
V ERTESI CLIMBED OVER THE TAPE and walked through the breezeway to the deck. He turned to look inside the cottage; everything was just as MacNeice had described it, except of course that the girl and the Seabreeze were gone.
The call of a gull pulled his attention back to the beach and the lake. For a moment he couldn’t help imagining himself as the owner, surveying all that’s lovely about the world. Then he snapped out of it; this would never be the life he’d have. Looking to the left, he could see the leading edge of the neighbouring cottage; to the right was a dock with a small, red-hulled sailboat moored at the end. “Beautiful. Like he said, a hundred yards in either direction.”
He sat on the bottom step, untied his shoes, took his socks off and rolled up his pant legs. He folded the socks, put themin the shoes and set them on the step. Retrieving his camera and notebook from his pocket, he took off his jacket and folded it neatly, then set it on the shoes and placed his notebook on top. Picking up a branch that had fallen from one of the birch trees, he stepped over the yellow tape and walked towards the water. The grass was cool under his feet, and the transition to warm sand made him pause for a moment, then shimmy his feet deeper into the sand.
The surface of the lake was almost still; the water lapped half-heartedly at the shore as if it had to keep up appearances. Vertesi walked slowly along the dry sand just above the waterline. He could see the bottom: a shoulder of hard sand that ran the length of the beachfront, extending a few feet into the lake before dropping off a couple of feet or more. He could see the silver slivers of minnows darting about in the deeper water. “What one thing …?” he said to himself as he looked back at the cottage nestled cosily among the trees.
He thought about the boat, about how, if you were going to land it in order to carry someone to the cottage, you’d likely choose your spot so it
“Lucy’s opening the door to the station. I’m pulling Danny out of the car—he’s all ‘fuck you, you piece of shit’—when suddenly he spits at me. Catches me right on the cheek.” He put his meaty paw on the spot where it had happened, as if nursing a bruise. “A big phlegmy goober, right here.”
Vertesi’s face screwed up at the thought of it.
“Exactly!” said Stankovics. “So I head-butted him and split his nose wide open. Apparently I said something like, ‘You’ve always been a snotty piece of shit, Roberts, but that should help your head cold.’ Anyway, I shove him, all bloodied up, through the door, and I look up and the shift sergeant’s standing there with a slice of pizza and a Coke. He saw the whole thing.”
“Is the cake suing?”
“No. Apparently his wife gets wind of this and says to him, ‘I’ll drop the assault charge against you if you drop yours against Stinky.’ It was a classy thing to do, even if it doesn’t help her in the long run, but the sergeant put me on a three-monthrotation of shit details anyway. I got five weeks to go. Luce has been amazing, though. She’s been getting guys to swing by with doughnuts and caffeine, so I’m set.”
“What’s happening here, anything?”
“Forensics guys just left, media vans were here earlier, but other than that, nothin’.”
“Anyone been down to the beach lookin’ around?”
“Nope. We restricted the news teams to the road above. I’ve been taking my leaks in the bushes, but the whole area seems quiet. You goin’ in?”
“No, just want to see the beach.”
“Well, you came at a good time. Shit, you could strip off and take a swim with the weather up here. Been tempted to myself, but I’d probably come out and find the sergeant standin’ there with my uniform.”
“Stink, I’ll catch you later.”
V ERTESI CLIMBED OVER THE TAPE and walked through the breezeway to the deck. He turned to look inside the cottage; everything was just as MacNeice had described it, except of course that the girl and the Seabreeze were gone.
The call of a gull pulled his attention back to the beach and the lake. For a moment he couldn’t help imagining himself as the owner, surveying all that’s lovely about the world. Then he snapped out of it; this would never be the life he’d have. Looking to the left, he could see the leading edge of the neighbouring cottage; to the right was a dock with a small, red-hulled sailboat moored at the end. “Beautiful. Like he said, a hundred yards in either direction.”
He sat on the bottom step, untied his shoes, took his socks off and rolled up his pant legs. He folded the socks, put themin the shoes and set them on the step. Retrieving his camera and notebook from his pocket, he took off his jacket and folded it neatly, then set it on the shoes and placed his notebook on top. Picking up a branch that had fallen from one of the birch trees, he stepped over the yellow tape and walked towards the water. The grass was cool under his feet, and the transition to warm sand made him pause for a moment, then shimmy his feet deeper into the sand.
The surface of the lake was almost still; the water lapped half-heartedly at the shore as if it had to keep up appearances. Vertesi walked slowly along the dry sand just above the waterline. He could see the bottom: a shoulder of hard sand that ran the length of the beachfront, extending a few feet into the lake before dropping off a couple of feet or more. He could see the silver slivers of minnows darting about in the deeper water. “What one thing …?” he said to himself as he looked back at the cottage nestled cosily among the trees.
He thought about the boat, about how, if you were going to land it in order to carry someone to the cottage, you’d likely choose your spot so it
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