Ghosts In the Heart. Michael J.D. Keller

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ or the changing temperature of the water in San Francisco bay, someone always managed to solicit his opinion. The effort to slip into the background as a sort of passive observer failed.

      It was his participation in the increasingly vigorous discussions that caused him to miss, at first, the music playing in the background. The restaurant used a recording of easy listening versions of Italian music as a mood setter, — elevator music for casual dining. No one had bothered to turn it off after the restaurant closed because no one had paid any particular attention to it. Only Mckenzie reacted to the four note piano introduction to a tune he could have whistled in his sleep.

      Brenda, of course, immediately saw his expression change. The Iceman’s impassive visage pushed aside the tentative grin that had been there only seconds before.

      “Do you know that tune, Alex?”

      “Yes, it’s the love theme from Holiday in Venice.”

      Eric, the erstwhile waiter, glanced up immediately. “Holiday in Venice,” “Holiday in Venice.” He was obviously seeking to recall something on the edge of his memory. “Oh, yeah, I saw that on channel 37 old movies a couple weeks ago.” “Good film - a bit derivative of Stanley Donen’s work, but still pretty good.” Eric who claimed to be waiting tables only while he worked on his fifth screen play, the preceding four had not yet sold, was a film buff.

      “I think I saw it too” Mathew chimed in. “Beautiful French babe in it.”

      Sandy poked her husband in the ribs. “That’s the only way he remembers old movies.”

      The table laughed at Mathew’s film criteria before Eric spoke again. “Ok, what was her name? Michelle? Michelle Martin?”

      “Mireille” Alex corrected. “Mireille Hellene Marchand.”

      “Right” Eric replied, oblivious to the pained softness in Mckenzie’s tone. “You really know your movies.”

      “Just a few of them” Mckenzie replied.

      “I don’t recall very many movies that she was in. Wonder what happened to her?”

      “She died” Mckenzie answered. His voice was now a cold monotone. “She was killed in a car wreck.”

      “Oh too bad.” Eric’s curiosity satisfied, he turned his attention to the newest topic being discussed. Only Brenda saw that Mckenzie had withdrawn from the conversation. He sat in cold silence for nearly five minutes before he rose to his feet.

      “If you all will excuse me, I am going to step out on the deck for a couple of minutes. I think I need a quick burst of fresh air.”

      Brenda turned to look at her husband as Mckenzie walked away. Peter had also noticed the abrupt change in his mood.

      “Should I go speak to him? Peter whispered.

      “No” Brenda replied. “Let me.”

      CHAPTER 5

      The deck at Trattoria de Alesandra had tables for outdoor dining but on this chilly October evening they were all covered in green canvas. In the shadows crafted by the lights from inside the restaurant, they resembled huge toadstools growing out of the unvarnished wood of the deck. Some of the lights on the Sausilito side of the bay had begun to fade as the evening edged past midnight. Across the water the city of San Francisco remained brightly illuminated. A touch of night fog softened the lights, obscured the outline of the buildings, and shaped an image of fantasy castles by the sea.

      Mckenzie glanced briefly across the dark water. Illusions, he thought, all illusions. The surface beauty only camouflaged the ugliness that lurked below. Theft, death and pain. The reality of the city contained that and more. If you forgot that for an instant, it would devour you. A man had to keep his armour in place.

      The slap of water against wood drew his attention. He looked down at the sloshing waves pushing against the wooden columns supporting the deck. It was too dark to make out details but the image of an abyss leaped into his mind - a swirling maelstrom ready to swallow up any who ventured too close.

      “Oh get a grip you weepy, romantic fool.” His father’s harsh sarcastic voice filled his mind. “It’s only water and you have had far too much to drink.”

      Mckenzie shook his head, trying by physical action to banish Marcus’s critical spirit. He turned and looked through the glass door back inside the restaurant. The impromptu party seemed to be breaking up. Everyone was standing around the table in the process of taking their leave. Eric and Angela had already started toward the door while Sandy was busily engaged in gathering up dishes and empty wine bottles.

      What the hell am I doing here? Mckenzie began his own self interrogation. I don’t belong with these people. “Right,” Marcus’s voice was back in his mind. “They are all young, breathing and enjoying their lives. You don’t want to be around them. You want to be sitting alone in the dark back at my old apartment mourning a dead woman you have never even met.” Alex could hear the same scathing contempt Marcus employed in court when crushing an opposing witness. Now, it conveyed utter disgust with his only son.

      Mckenzie had not spoken with Marcus for nearly two years before his father’s death. It seemed supremely unfair that now some six years after their last bitter exchange, he had to endure once more his father’s incessant hectoring. Perhaps he truly was mentally unbalanced just as Marcus had repeatedly suggested.

      “Alex?” Brenda Stewart’s gentle and warm tone restored an element of concrete reality to the world. “Are you all right?”

      “ I am getting a little too old to stay up so late. I just needed to clear my head.”

      “Oh quit,” Brenda chuckled as she walked over and took his arm. “You make yourself sound like someone ready for a rocking chair, a comforter and a warm cup of cocoa.”

      Alex sighed - a deep, if silent, groan of resignation. “Why Brenda?”

      “Why what?”

      “Why are you and Peter working so hard to be my friends?”

      “Isn’t enough that we both like you? That we like you a lot?”

      “I don’t think that I’m that likeable. Certainly not enough to justify the effort you two have been putting forward.”

      Holding his arm, Brenda gently turned him until they were both leaning on the deck rail looking across the bay toward the glittering lights of the city. Brenda’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial tone.

      “You under-value yourself Alex. When Peter and I were first married, he would come home and tell me stories about his cases and about this incredible police detective he had met- smarter, more dedicated, harder working than anyone else in the department. The detective who solved all his cases, caught every fugitive he chased, and was absolutely unshakeable as a trial witness. When I first met you, I expected you to have an S on your chest.”

      Mckenzie could not suppress a chuckle. “Then you found out that there was absolutely no S.”

      All the humour left Brenda Stewart’s voice. “No, you aren’t Superman, but when I met you I realized what Peter already knew. Alexander Mckenzie, you are the loneliest man that either one of СКАЧАТЬ