Read Online Goofy Foot by David Daniel - Free Book Online

the morning they arrived, so I left a key. Once people settle in, I’m invisible unless they need me. I did tell Vin that Mr. Nickerson would be here. I always do that, just to keep him in the loop. It’s an added safety service, no extra charge.”
    â€œVin?”
    â€œPolice Chief Delcastro. He’s ‘Vin’ to us locals. He’s a native. There aren’t all that many. Sadly, a lot of them can no longer afford the taxes and have to move elsewhere.” Her sympathy seemed as genuine as a crocodile’s. “We get people from all over who move to town. ‘Wash-ashores.’ Goodness, I’m one!” She laughed.
    â€œDelcastro knew Ben Nickerson from before, I gather.”
    â€œYears ago, yes. That’s another nice thing about the town—have you got a family, Mr. Rasmussen? Kids?”
    â€œNot at the moment.”
    â€œWell. It is a very safe town with good public services. And the schools are tops. We’re back in the kitchen now.” The woman liked to announce where she was and what she was doing, I guess in case it was happening so fast that my head was awhirl. She brimmed with perkiness—almost too much for the house, which had a closed-up feel, almost without any sign of recent habitation. She tugged a cord and opened draperies on the large sliding-glass door. Beyond was a deck overlooking the beach. Wanting fresh air, I slid open the door. The cries of seagulls drifted in, along with the smells of burning charcoal, and of the ocean itself. It was slightly cooler here than inland. I walked to the railing and looked down onto the strip of clean sand. Only a few people were in evidence, most of them parked on blankets, catching rays.
    â€œWhat did I tell you?” Mitzi Dineen beamed at my side.
    â€œYou sure did.” I beamed back. We went inside and she went on extolling the virtues of Standish, but I was peering about, looking for some enlarged understanding of where Ben and Michelle Nickerson might be. I wasn’t offended when the realtor apologized that
she had to be running off to another appointment. She tugged a key from her ring and gave it to me. “The beach comes with the rental. The one rule here is, relax and enjoy! And if you fall in love with us and want to stay … Well, I’m off.” She trilled a laugh all the way to the Saab.
    Alone, I brought my suitcase in and took my own tour. The house was what you’d expect: durable appliances and housewares, decorator touches, an assortment of books and board games for rainy days, but the overall effect was of a temple for beach worshipers. Skylights and big windows let the light pour in. There wasn’t much that didn’t seem to belong. Some condiments and tubs of Chinese take-out in the fridge. On a kitchen counter was a fishbowl, but I didn’t see any fish in the water, only a small snail shell in the sand at the bottom. In an upstairs closet hung a black satin jacket. I took it out. “Satan Bugg—Playing for Your Soul Tour” was printed on the back in red, along with the band’s pentagram logo. The tour cities were all West Coast venues. Was it Michelle Nickerson’s? In a wastebasket, amid some balled local newspapers, I found a roach with purple lipstick on it. Had the teenager smoked it? For people who supposedly had been here for several days, the Nickersons hadn’t left much of themselves. Was it possible they’d taken their things and gone on a side trip? The jacket, though, seemed to deny it. If it was Michelle’s—the size was right—and she was such a fan of the group, would she leave it behind if she didn’t intend to return?
    â€œEagle eye has landed,” I said when Paula Jensen answered the phone.
    â€œAnything?” she asked right off.
    Which told me she hadn’t heard a word. I took forty seconds and filled her in on my day so far. I held off on the roach for the moment. She said that the