Spit In The Ocean: A Laid-Back Bay Area Mystery (The Jake Samson & Rosie Vicente Detective Series Book 4) by Shelley Singer Page B

anyway. Hardly live here.”
    I remembered, then, that he was looking for something to do when he finally retired. I realized how important it would be for him to find it.
    Perry was the first to arrive, carrying a twist-cap jug of wine.
    “You drinking, Clement?” he asked, waving the bottle at his boss.
    “Not anymore.” Clement took a last swig from his beer.
    “The town has to have one sober peacekeeper more or less on duty.”
    Perry nodded agreeably, went to the kitchen, and came back clutching a tumbler of cheap red.
    We decided to wait for a fifth player to arrive before we began. Clement began counting out chips at the dining room table. I waited until Perry had swallowed half his wine, and then brought up the events of the night before.
    “That’s really something,” I said, “the way you thought to look over the edge of the cliff.”
    “Believe me,” he chortled, “it was the last place I looked. I wasn’t too eager to go out there and hang off the lip, looking for Gracie.”
    “What did you do first,” Rosie said, “when you got the call?” She sounded all breathless with admiration and wonder.
    “Well, first I spotted the car, of course. Went to Spiegel’s to look for her, where she was supposed to be. And spotted the car in the drive. So then I tromped all around the house, yelling like a fool in the wind. Damned near got beaned by a tree limb too.”
    “And then?” I prodded.
    He took a long swallow, nearly emptying his glass. “Checked the houses right around, of course. Henry’s, next door, and Melody’s. No sign of anyone, no sign of Gracie. Excuse me.” He got up and went to the kitchen again, returning with a second water glass full of wine. He took a long pull and plunked himself down in his chair, his round face shining with pride. “Now, where were we? Okay, so I checked all around, yelled, looked around the yards. She just wasn’t nowhere around there, so I crossed the road. The waves were splashing up pretty good, coming right up over the top every so often. I timed them. Took my chance, and looked over the edge. I can tell you, it was something.” He paused for approval, and both Rosie and I nodded admiringly. “There she was, down there on the rocks, those waves pulling her— well, trying to pull her, but she was jammed in pretty good. Still, I was scared we’d lose her.”
    “Hell of a job, finding her like that,” I said.
    “I got three dollars each here to start,” Clement yelled from the dining room. “Think that’s about right?”
    We said we thought it was.
    Marty Spiegel was next to appear, wearing the same jeans and plaid shirt he’d been wearing earlier that day. I was glad to see I hadn’t bled on him. He greeted Clement and Perry as if he were glad to see them, smiled sweetly at Rosie, patted the dog, and asked how I was feeling.
    “No problem,” I lied. We all moved into the dining room, paid our three dollars, and took our chips.
    Clement rummaged in a drawer and found the cards.
    “There seems to be an awful lot going on around here these days, Clement. Must be keeping you busy,” Spiegel said.
    Clement shook his head. “Yeah. Too damned much.”
    “Yeah,” Perry said. Then he squinted like Clint Eastwood and added, “But you just try to get your teeth into any of it and it’s like biting into… well, wine.” He finished his second glass and poured more.
    Clement glared at him. I didn’t know whether it was for the comment or the drinking.
    There was a knock on the door, and Clement went to answer. Melody Clift swept in and rushed to my good side.
    “You poor thing! Rosie told me there was an accident. Imagine, right after I talked to you on the beach. How very terrible. What happened exactly?”
    “Brakes failed,” Clement said tersely, but he was gazing at her with some approval. Which wasn’t hard to do. She was wearing a flowered blouse in blue and lavender, and tight lavender pants. The blouse showed cleavage for days, and very