“I don’t think that will happen. He’s starting to focus on Cassie. That’s a big step.”
“Yeah.” He got back to his feet and turned on the faucet. There was some sputtering and coughing, but the old pipes were sturdy. After a moment water flowed steadily. “You really think this old math department secretary will be able to tell us anything useful?”
“Who knows? Worth a try.”
“If you say so.” He shut off the water.
They both gazed steadily at the faucet for a time. No drips.
“My,” Leonora said in tones of near-reverent awe. “You are good. You are extraordinary.”
“What can I say? It’s a gift.”
She smiled at him in the mirror. “I believe it.”
He looked at her reflected image. There was a graceful, seductive curve to her body as she lounged there in the doorway behind him. Her eyes were warm and deep and mysterious.
“Got anything else that needs adjusting?” he asked.
“Now that you mention it, I believe I do have another home improvement project that could benefit from an expert application of your tools.”
He twirled the gleaming adjustable wrench with the practiced skill of an Old West gunfighter. “Lead me to it.”
“This way.”
She turned and drew him down the hall into the shadows of the bedroom.
An hour and a half later he went out onto her front porch and inhaled the chilled, damp night. Another wave of fog had crept up off the dark waters of the Sound, shrouding the footpath. The low lamps spaced at intervals along the route glowed dimly.
He looked at Leonora, who stood on the threshold. She was draped in a thick robe, her hair loose and tumbled around her face. She was squinting ever so slightly. She had left her glasses on the nightstand.
“Good night.” She kissed him on the mouth.
“Night.”
He kissed her back, not lightly, the way she had kissed him. He wanted to leave an impression. Give her something to think about when she got back into the warm, mussed bed that he had just vacated.
“Good party?” the stranger asked.
Brett Conway staggered to a halt and tried to focus. The guy had freaked him out, materializing out of the fog and the darkness like that. He hadn’t heard anyone else on the footpath.
The stranger looked weird. He was dressed in black and he had a ski mask on over his face. It was cold, Brett thought, but not that cold.
“Party was okay,” Brett muttered.
It had been a good party. Plenty of booze and some pot. But none of the girls had shown any interest in him. Just as well. He was feeling a little sick. Wouldn’t take much to make him hurl straight into the cove.
“You don’t look so good,” the stranger said.
“Too much beer. I’ll be okay.”
“I’ve got something that will make you feel a lot better in a hurry.” The stranger held out his gloved hand, palm up. “Try it. You’ll like it.”
Brett looked at the little package. “What is it?”
“Smoke and Mirrors.”
A thrill shot through him. He forgot about his uneasy stomach. “No shit? The real thing?”
“The real thing.”
“Heard the rumors. But no one I know has been able to get any.”
“Be the first on your block.”
Wariness returned. “How much? I haven’t got more than twenty or thirty bucks on me.”
“Free.”
Now he knew there was a catch. “I don’t believe it.”
“Well, there is one little favor I’d like you to do for me,” the stranger said.
“What favor?”
“Swallow this and then we’ll discuss it.”
Brett hesitated. But it was just too easy. He could already hear himself telling his friends about this tomorrow. You’ll never believe it. Met a guy on the footpath last night. Gave me S and M. The real stuff. For free.
He swallowed the powder. It tasted bitter.
“About that favor,” the stranger said.
“What?” Brett squinted through the fog, trying to get a better look at the stranger’s eyes. Something weird about those eyes.
“You’re going to kill a monster for me.”
“You’re crazy, man.” Brett chuckled. He was feeling better already. Kind of excited. “No monsters around here.”
“You’re wrong. There’s one coming along the path right now. He’ll be on the footbridge in a few minutes.” The stranger handed him a long object that was weighted at the end. “Take this. You’ll need it.”
Brett looked down at the golf club the stranger had put in his hand. “Huh?”
Something was really wrong here. He wanted to ask some more questions. But the hallucinations started in and he saw the monster in the fog.
Some of the heavy satisfaction that had come over Thomas after the truly memorable sex started to fade. In its place he felt the familiar stirring sensation. Maybe that deliberately provocative good-night kiss hadn’t been such a good idea. He was going to be the one who spent the night thinking deeply unsettling thoughts.
The sound of a jogger’s footfalls behind him warned him that there were still a few diehards out ruining their knees, even at this late hour. He moved to the edge of the path, giving the runner plenty of room.
The echo of the pounding steps got louder. A moment later a young man galloped past. A nearby lamp gleamed briefly on his running shoes and lower legs. The rest of his body was in darkness.
Thomas wondered if he should warn the kid that if he kept up the running his knees would probably be shot by the time he was forty. He decided not to mention it. Why give the competition an edge? Things were tough enough at forty. Besides, young guys didn’t want to hear about bad knees. They planned on living forever and being in great shape the whole time.
The young man vanished into the night. The sound of his footfalls faded into nothingness. Silence flowed back, swirling together with the fog.
He reached the footbridge and started across. From here he could see his own porch light in the trees on the hillside. Wrench would be waiting up for him. Nice to know your dog was always there for you.
Footfalls sounded behind him. Another jogger, one who had decided to cheat and take the shortcut to the other side of the cove. The thud-thuds were heavier, not quite in sync, as if the guy was struggling to keep the rhythm going. Maybe his knees hurt.
Thomas became aware of the runner’s heavy breathing. He could hear audible gulps of air. As he listened, the pattern of the footfalls altered. They were more closely spaced. Picking up speed.