Adrien English Mysteries 5 - The Dark Tide by Josh Lanyon

Author:Josh Lanyon [Lanyon, Josh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-07-29T03:00:00+00:00

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Sea View Manor was a Spanish-style hacienda with a nice view of the ocean and the green mountains. It was surrounded by a tiled garden filled with ornamental cactus and bougainvillea.

The parking lot was fenced by tall boxwood hedge. On the other side of the hedge was a gloomy-looking hotel, also built in the Spanish style, but by depressed Spaniards.

Jake and I strolled up the front walk lined by yellow-edged agave succulents. Ahead of us, nurses pushed elderly, bent patients in wheelchairs.

“I hope this isn't going to be too much of a shock for the old guy,” I remarked.

“Death doesn't usually frighten the very elderly.”

I thought about how much cooler I'd been about the possibility of death when I'd figured it was inevitable. Not that it wasn't inevitable. As Christie wrote, “Death comes as the end.” For all of us.

We were greeted in the breezy main reception area by a crisp young man in Brooks Brothers trousers and shirt who introduced himself as Mr. Vaughn. “Welcome. Mr. Hale is looking forward to your visit. We were surprised to hear he was having company. He doesn't have many visitors.” He smiled. “You're not family?”

We denied being family.

“Well, he's quite a character. You'll see.”

That sounded promising.

“How is he today?” Jake asked.

Vaughn looked thoughtful. “Today is one of his good days. He's very frail, though. You'll have to keep your visit short.”

I asked, “What's wrong with him?”

“His heart mostly. He has emphysema as well. Most people have multiple issues at his age.”

I thought of that dapper young man with the constant cig in his smiling mouth.

Mr. Vaughn summoned a young woman in a pastel jumpsuit, who led us down a rabbit warren of tiled and antiseptic hallways to a small room overlooking the garden. There was a hospital bed, but there was also a nice little patio on the other side of a sliding-glass door. Yellow bougainvillea cascaded like a golden waterfall over a low stucco wall. A green hummingbird was dive-bombing its reflection in the glass door.

The nurse or attendant asked us to ring for her when we were done visiting, and she departed.

“And who might you be?” inquired the stooped figure in the wheelchair, turning away from the kamikaze hummingbird.

The years had not been kind to Dan Hale. You could still see the ghost of the fierce young man in the gnarled ruins of the old. Unlike Nick Argyle, who was probably around the same age but still hale and hearty, Hale looked every one of his years. In fact, he looked uncannily like the skeleton in the floor of Cloak and Dagger: prominent bones, sunken eyes, sparse hair.

I felt my chest tighten watching him. I'd never really considered the stark prospect of myself in extreme old age, because I hadn't figured I'd live to an age where I needed to worry about nursing homes or assisted living. If you didn't marry, if you didn't have kids…who looked out for you?

“Jake Riordan. We spoke on the phone. This is Adrien English.

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