“Cat’s blood.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah. When Frank woke up in that motel, he was cover with cat’s
blood.”
“I knew he was no killer.”
Bobby said, “The cat may have an opinion about that.”
“The other stuff is?”
“Well… bunch of technical terms here… but what it comes down to is
that it’s what it looks like. Black sand.”
Stepping back to the reception counter, Clint said, “You remember we
talked about a black-sand beach in Hawaii
“Kaimu,” she said. “It’s a dynamite place.”
“Yeah, Kaimu. Is it the only one?”
“Black-sand beach, you mean? No. There’s Punaluu, which is a real sweet
place too. Those are on the big island. I agree there must be more on
the other islands, ’cause there’s volcanoes all over the place, aren’t
there?”
Bobby joined them at the counter. “What do volcanoes had to do with
it?”
Lisa took her chewing gum out of her mouth and put it waside on a piece
of paper. “Well, the way I heard it, really hot lava flows into the
sea, and when it meets the water, there’re huge explosions, which throw
off zillions and zillions of the really teeny-tiny beads of black glass,
and then over a long period of time the waves rub all the beads together
until they ground down into sand.”
“They have these beaches anywhere but Hawaii?” Bobby wondered.
She shrugged. “Probably. Clint, is this fella your… friend?”
“Yeah,” Clint said.
“I mean, you know, your good friend?”
“Yeah,” Clint said, without looking at Bobby.
Lisa winked at Bobby. “Listen, you make Clint take you to Kaimu, ’cause
I’ll tell you something-it’s really terrific to go out on a black beach
at night, make love under the stars, because it’s soft, for one thing,
but mainly because black sand doesn’t reflect moonlight like regular
sand. It seems like you’re floating in space, darkness all around, it
really sharpens your senses,.if you know what I mean.”
“Sounds terrific,” Clint said.
“Take care, Lisa.” He headed for the door.
As Bobby turned to follow Clint, Lisa said, “You make him take you to
Kaimu, you hear? You’ll have a good time.”
Outside, Bobby said, “Clint, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Didn’t you hear her? These little beads of black glass-”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Hey, look at you, you’re grinning.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen you grinning. I don’t think I like you
grinning.”
BY NINE o’clock, Lee Chen had arrived at the office, opened a bottle of
orange-flavored seltzer, and settled into the computer room a midst his
beloved hardware, where Julie was waiting for him.
He was five six, slender but wiry,a warm brass complexion and jet-black
hair that bristled in a modified punk style. He wore red tennis shoes
and socks, black cotton pants with a white belt, a black and
charcoal-grey shirt with a subtle leaf pattern, and a black jacket with
narrow lapels and big shoulder pads. He was the most stylishly dressed
employee at Dakota & Dakota, even compared to Cassie H ley, their
receptionist, who was an unashamed clotheshor.
While Lee sat in front of his computers, sipping seltzer, Julie filled
him in on what had happened at the hospital and showed him the printouts
of the information Bobby had acquired earlier that morning.
Frank Pollard sat with them, in the chair, where Julie could keep an eye
on him. Throughout the conversation, Lee exhibited no surprise at what
he was being told, as if his computers had bestowed on him such enormous
restrain and resignation nothing-not even a man capable of
teleportation-could surprise him. Julie knew that Lee, well as everyone
else in the Dakota & Dakota family, would never leak a word of any
client’s business to anyone; but didn’t know how much of his supercooled
demeanor was real and how much was a conscious image that he put on
every moment with his ultra-voguish clothes.
Though his unshakable nonchalance might be partially feigned, his talent
for computers was unquestionably real.
When Julie had finished her condensed version of recent events, Lee
said, “Okay, what do you need from me now?”
There was no doubt on either his part or hers that eventually he could