can’t seem to get it through her head that we need someplace for the flowers to be delivered to first. If she would just let me handle it, it would be better, but she’s insisting on being in the middle of everything. When I told you my ex and I had a civil relationship that was because we barely saw each other when there wasn’t other family around.”
I had never seen Mason like this. He was usually jovial and fun. And yet I liked it because he was opening up to me.
“By the way, I gave my daughter the hankie you crocheted. She thought it was lovely.”
“I’m just curious. Who did you tell her it was from?”
“I said you were a special friend,” he said starting to get back to the Mason I was used to.
“And she probably thinks I’m the sweet little old lady who lives down the block, right?” I looked over at Mason and he was grinning.
“Maybe,” he said in a teasing tone. He’d gotten on the 101 Freeway and transitioned onto the 405. Traffic wasn’t bad and we flew past the mountains in the Sepulveda Pass and then through the Westside. I had expected him to turn off someplace, but he kept driving. I wondered if he was so distracted by everything with Jaimee that he’d forgotten where we were going—wherever that was. All he’d said to me was the beach. Should I say something?
As I watched the connection to the Santa Monica Freeway go by, I decided to speak up. “Are we headed any place in particular?” I said gingerly. “I thought I better say something before we ended up in Tijuana.”
“Sunshine, I assure you, I’m never so distracted that I’d drive through the border crossing without noticing,” he said with a good-humored laugh. He let out a deep breath and his shoulders relaxed. “I have a plan. I need the ocean, but not the usual Malibu or Santa Monica.”
He finally turned off the freeway and took surface streets going toward the sun that was hanging low in the sky. I was glad he knew where he was going, because I hadn’t a clue. He pulled into a parking structure and we got out. When we reached the street, he made a grand gesture with his arm. “Manhattan Beach.”
It had to be at least twenty degrees cooler than the Valley, which was a welcome relief. He took my hand and we crossed the street to a coffee place. “Cappuccinos are a perfect complement to the sunset,” he said before ordering one for each of us. Carrying our drinks we headed down the street of interesting shops and restaurants that sloped toward the water. Ahead the ocean caught the orange sun and a pier jutted out into the water. Just before the beach, a paved walkway went off in both directions. Being a weekday, it wasn’t crowded. The stragglers were carrying their folding chairs and brightly colored towels as they left the beach. A few joggers went past and, on the separate bike trail, some riders rode by. Mason suggested we go to the right.
“Take a deep breath, sunshine. Smell that cool breeze,” he said as we strolled down the path, sipping our drinks. A gull was almost eye level as it rode on the wind, before it flapped it wings and changed directions. The sky was apricot and pink as the sun hovered over the water.
On one side was the beach and on the other, houses that were so close to the walkway, we could have stepped right onto any patio and plopped on their lawn furniture. We found a bench and sat facing the water.
“Uh-oh,” he said with his trademark grin. “I’m starting to think about my ex and the wedding again. Quick, distract me with something in your life. What’s going on with the murder investigation?”
“You asked for it,” I said, with a laugh. I started to download everything that had happened. “Dan Donahue still seems to be the number one suspect.” I listed the motives, from insurance money to help his business, to it being the no-pay way to get a divorce. “But the trouble is the absence of a murder weapon,” I said. Then I told him about all the swabbing and testing that had been done on Dan’s gun and how none of it came back incriminating Dan. “They need the murder weapon. They need some solid evidence so they can arrest him.”