Swimming to Catalina

boats, he paused momentarily onPaloma and focused on the girl. All he could see was an expanse of bare back that was achingly familiar. He got down from the machine and went back to his car. He had three options, he reckoned: he could wait until she climbed down to get a better look at her; he could wait in the car until she left the boat; or he could confront her. The first two options weren’t particularly inviting; he had never liked stakeouts when he was a cop, and he had paid other people to do them after he had retired. The third option caused him some anxiety. If the girl was not Arrington, he could get arrested, depending on her reaction; on the other hand, if she was Arrington, what would he say to her?
    She had left him for another man, and they had not spoken for months; she was pregnant, or said she was, possibly with his child, and she had not seen fit to tell him; she had chosen, it seemed, to leave her husband, perhaps for a lover, and in the circumstances, she might be very unhappy to see him. If he were honest with himself, he wanted her to behappy to see him. Hecouldn’t bring himself to just walk right up to her, unannounced.
    Then his dilemma was suddenly resolved. He saw her stand up, fasten her bikini bra, and leave the top deck, but all this took place with her back to him. Was she leaving the boat, or was she just going below for some lunch? He waited, and his wait was rewarded. She appeared, far down the pontoon, headed his way.
    He snatched up the binoculars and focused, but now a boat was interfering, then a car, then some other object between them. By the time she came up the ramp her back was to him again, and she began walking away. Stone got out of the car and followed.
    She walked toward the chandlery, then around it, and when Stone emerged on the other side of the building he saw her walking into a restaurant. He stepped up his pace, and when he arrived at the front door, saw her taking a seat at the lunch counter, her back still to him. Only one thing to do: he walked into the restaurant, took a stool two down from hers and looked at her, head on in the mirror.
    She took off her sunglasses, and their eyes met.
    Stone reacted as if poked in the eye. The girl and Arrington shared height, build, and hair, but nothing else.
    She noted his reaction. “Am I so hard to look at?”
    “Sorry,” he said, rubbing his eye, “must be a lash. You’re certainly not hard to look at.”
    She permitted herself a small smile, then devoted herself to the menu.
    “Can you recommend something?” he asked. “I’m new around here.”
    “The bacon cheeseburger is great,” she said, “if your cholesterol count can take it.”

    “Sounds good.” He took a deep breath and tried to sound casual. “Why don’t we order from a booth?”
    She looked at him appraisingly, and apparently he appraised well. “As long as you’re buying,” she said, then hopped off the stool and led the way to a booth at the window.
    “I’m Jack Smithwick,” he said, offering a hand.
    She took the hand. “Barbara Tierney.”
    A waitress appeared, and they both ordered the bacon cheeseburger and a beer.
    “You said you were new around here?”
    “That’s right.”
    “New from where?”
    “From New York.”
    “And what brings you to L.A.?”
    “I used to get out here on business occasionally, and I liked it, so I was thinking of getting a place here.”
    “What kind of business?”
    “I’m a lawyer—or rather, I used to be. Now I’m an investor.” He thought that should send the right message. “What about you?”
    “I’m an actress; I came out here a few months ago from Chicago.”
    “Storming Hollywood?”
    “Sort of. What sort of place are you looking for, Jack?”
    “Haven’t decided yet. I heard that Marina Del Rey was nice, and I like boats.”
    “Then why don’t you buy a boat and live on that?”
    “It’s a thought. Do you live on a boat?”
    “For the moment. It belongs to a friend.”
    “I’d love to see it.”
    “My friend doesn’t like me to have guests aboard.”

    “I understand.”
    “Do you?”
    “Maybe not; help me out.”
    “You understand.”
    “Well, yes.”
    Their cheeseburgers arrived, and they were quiet for a while as they ate.
    Stone wasn’t sure where to go with this. Was Barbara Tierney the girl who had been driving Arrington’s car? Or was she just a girl living on a friend’s boat?
    Barbara finished her cheeseburger and drank the last of her beer.