I got home all right, I guess.  That last shot really knocked me.  After I’d taken a walk along the base of the cliffs, and sat there for a while, I found myself rather drunk, which wasn’t that surprising, especially not for me lately. The rising tide soon forced me from my perch, and I got my feet wet, but I knew the way home.   My cell woke me at 9:30, which wasn’t welcome, but it was Bill, and he had my temporary PI license. He’d pulled a few strings and gotten it for me, and needed my paperwork ASAP.  Which was a fortunate development, because in the next hour I got a call from the bartender with the belligerent ex, and another about a divorce case.  One, I needed the money, and two, I needed a distraction, and probably, to slow things down a bit. Maybe more than a bit. Left to my own devices, I might push this too fast and too far.

The case with Susan, the bartender, was open and shut.  I told her we could talk to him first, or we could just go ahead with the restraining order.  She said she wanted to talk to him first, so I told her to set up a meeting at the bar, and that I’d be there, but not to tell him I would be, and to get back to me with the day and time. The divorce case wasn’t quite so simple.  There was a prenup.  It was a strange one, though.  He could cheat, so long as he wasn’t in love.  Rich people -- go figure.  The woman said that a couple of other PI’s had tried and failed to prove he was in love, but that she was sure he was.  I told her I’d give it a shot, but I couldn’t promise anything, that she should call me in a week, and that I would need to bill a lot of hours of surveillance.  She said that was fine, and we concluded our conversation.

I had to wait to hear back from Susan, and I didn’t know yet what I was going to do about the divorce case, so I decided to hit the waves.  I hadn’t been out in a couple of days, and I thought it might clear my head.  The surf was pretty good, but I really wasn’t, and got knocked around, had only one really good ride, then called it quits.  I was walking out, talking to myself, when I saw another one of the guys from the old days.

“Hey Blue!  Hey, it’s good to see you.”

“Hey Skip,” I responded, snapping out of my internal reverie to find the name of an old life guarding buddy amidst some dusty memories.

“Hey, I saw that last ride.  You still got it.”

“Yeah, that was my only good one.  But thanks.”

“You still doin’ the private eye thing?”

“Yeah, you know – same old same old,” I lied.

“Yeah.  Nothing new with me either.  Good to see you,” he said and slapped me on the shoulder, and took a step toward the water.

“Good to see you too, Skip,” I said, turning, and watched him wade into the surf and paddle out, and for a moment, got lost again, the tide crashing in like the years, my boyhood spent on the beach, my time on the force, my marriage, becoming a private investigator, and then…Hope…or the possible total obliteration of it.  When had Wilkes and his goons moved into town?  When had the murders started, the prostituting of young women?  Why hadn’t I known? I watched a particularly big wave crash behind Skip and rush toward the high tide mark, then recede. I didn’t have the answers.  I needed to call Hope, but a thought came into my head.  It was time to see Willow again.

The truth is, I’d been kind of avoiding the place the last six months, and now I started to wonder why.  In fact, I’d become more isolated than ever and had gotten very used to it.  Maybe too used to it.  That’s what I was thinking as I dug into my eggs and bacon at the diner, still in my half-suit, my board propped up on the wall outside.  I was deep in thought, looking out the window, when I heard a voice.

“Been to see your witch friend lately?”

“Which one?” I answered, not missing a beat, turning to see two of Wilkes’ goons glaring down at me, one slightly behind the other.  “I had sex with the dark-haired one a couple of days ago, and I was planning on visiting the blonde one in a little while.”

“You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?” said the second guy, stroking his spiky, moussed hair.

“I have my moments,” I smiled back at them, enjoying the chance to make pleasant conversation.

“Yeah well, just ‘cause you buy us some drinks doesn’t mean we’re not going to keep an eye on you,” responded the first one, the second one nodding demonstratively in agreement.

Looking up at those worthless thugs, my cup of coffee in my hand, it occurred to me that this was something I should have thought of -- the night before would be taken as a sign of weakness.  Now they’d be pissing on me every opportunity they got.

“OK,” I responded, smiling stupidly, nodding my head up and down.

“Yeah, well,” said the first one after a moment.  “Just so you understand.”

“OK,” I repeated, still smiling and nodding stupidly.  “See you guys around.”

“Yeah.  You will,” said the first guy, knocking my still half-full plate of food to the floor.

“That’s right!” added the second guy, shoving my coffee cup so that it sloshed out on the table over my hand, and then he and his buddy turned and strutted out of the diner.  They tipped over my surfboard, then walked away laughing.  The waitress came over, cleaned up the coffee and overturned plate without saying a word, and gave me a refill.  I ordered a second plate of eggs, finished most of it and paid my now doubled bill, leaving an extra tip for the waitress. I picked my board up off the sidewalk, glad that it wasn’t my best one, and took one step toward home, then stopped.  Willow’s place was open.  I really wanted to shower first, and I needed to get that paperwork to Bill before the end of the day, but I was pulled toward the place by the same magnetic force that dragged me there the first time. But this time, it wasn’t the feeling that I needed to check it out, it was that I’d been away far too long, that another hour, or even another minute might be too much to wait.  I tried to shrug it off, but couldn’t. I crossed the street, propped my board outside, and walked hesitantly in.  Once inside the store, I knew that was where I should be, and needed to be, the womb-like otherworldly dimness a strong counterpoint to the sharp edges of the bright day I’d just stepped out of. A new girl, standing by the books, one I didn’t know, smiled at me.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Hi,” I responded, returning her smile.  “I was wondering. Is Willow going to be in today?”

“I think so. Yes,” said Willow standing up from behind the counter, where she had apparently been kneeling.

“Long time no see,” I offered, rather stupidly, disarmed by her directness and beauty once more.

“Yes,” she answered.  “I’ve been here and you haven’t.”  Then after a pause, “I had a dream about you last night.”

“A good one?” I asked, trying to inject some levity into an already awkward situation, and knowing I’d failed.

“Actually,” she said, completely ignoring me.  “You were surfing, but there were sharks, but you kept going back out.  And the surf was very dangerous."

“Huh,” I said, now totally at a loss for words, and forgetting why I was there.

“Was there something you needed?”

“Yes,” I answered, straightening, and suddenly remembering, “Is there a way to tell if someone’s in love?”

“No foolproof way,” she answered, after a moment, “but I usually just look to see if they’re holding hands.”

It wasn’t what I’d expected, but it gave me an idea.  “Thanks,” I said, and waved, and started to turn to go.

“You need to be careful,” said Willow, holding my eyes, preventing me, for a moment, from leaving.

“I need a lot of things,” I answered, smiling, then turning, now released from her gaze.  “What are you going to do?”

“Magic, I think.”

Chapter 23 coming 8/1 (or so…)!!!