CHAPTER 8

I could get Winslow to drive out to North Beach. All it would take would be a gun to his head. But the problem would be how to get myself back from the beach, and leave his car there. He took a walk on the beach slipped, went into the surf, and there would be his car in the parking lot, but how would I get back to Fairfax. The answer was to get someone to come out and pick me up. I could go to the To-males Bay Lodge, get a room, leave my car there, get someone to pick it up, drive it out to North Beach, bring me back to the lodge. Somebody who would buy the story I would tell him: that I was going to be dropped off at North Beach and needed someone to drive my car out there so I could get back. Make it sound like I was meeting someone out there that I didn’t want a wife to know about. I could find somebody at the Old Western Saloon in Point Reyes. One of those guys who spent his late afternoon playing liars dice, and drinking shots and beer. Somebody who would be happy to take a drive to Inverness, get my car, go out to North Beach, bring me back to the lodge. A hundred bucks. Easy money. And he would never see me again. So what I had to do was go out to Point Reyes Station and sit in that saloon and find the right guy.

Two guys sat on my left and the one next to me had a tattoo that rose up from his collar on his neck, a complicated design. I ordered a Manhattan, rye whiskey, and he turned to me and said, “That’s what I do. Rye. Only way to do it.”

“Can I buy you one?”

He looked at his partner.

“Your partner, too.”

“Shit, this must be our lucky day, Davy,” said the partner.

“Lucky day for me, too,” I said. “I’ve got a problem. And maybe you can solve it.”

“What kind of a problem?”

“Well, I’m going to meet somebody out at North Beach. You know where that is?”

“Yeah.”

“Only after I meet her, I need to get back to the Tomales Bay Lodge in Inverness. You know where that is?”

“Yeah.” The bartender set the Manhattans in front of us. He had poured it to the rim and I leaned forward to sip a bit of mine before picking it up. The bartender took a glass and poured the extra Manhattan into it, set it next to my drink.

“Generous pour,” I said, sliding a twenty out toward him. He rang up the drinks and put two ones in front of me. I slid them back.

“You interested?” I asked Davy, the tattooed kid.

“So you need somebody to pick you up at North Beach,” he said.

“Yes. It’s kind of touchy, I’d be willing to pay a hundred bucks to somebody who was willing to pick up my car at the lodge and drive it out to the parking lot at North Beach. No questions asked. Just drive it out, bring me back to the lodge and he gets a hundred bucks cash.”

“How come this person you’re meeting out there can’t give you a ride back to Inverness?”

“It’s sort of a delicate thing. I mean, it’s not somebody I want to advertise. So if she brings me back and somebody sees us, then it gets sticky. Know what I mean?”

“So, you’re gonna ride out there and then you need somebody to bring your car out to you?”

“That’s it.”

“When would this be?”

“Early in April. If I had a phone number I could make the arrangements. You interested?”

“Maybe. Is that all? Just pick up a car and drive it out to North Beach and pick you up?”

“That’s it. And your discretion. You conveniently forget that you did it. You ride with me back to the lodge. “

“I’ve got a shitty memory.”

“Drink up,” I said. “There might be another one of those.”