Split Second

"You remember Jorst kept saying that Atticus was lucky to have someone like Ramsey, that Berkeley scholars and national experts didn't just drop into schools like Atticus every day?"

"Right. So?"

"Well, I saw Jorst's diplomas in his office. He went to decent schools, but nothing even in the top twenty. And I'm guessing the other professors in the department weren't superstars like Ramsey, which was maybe why they were intimidated by him."

Michelle nodded thoughtfully. "So why did a brilliant Berkeley Ph.D. and national expert end up teaching at a place like Atticus?"

King looked at her. "Exactly. If I had to guess, it's because Ramsey had some skeletons in his closet. Maybe from his protesting days. Maybe that's why his wife finally left him."

"But wouldn't that have come out after he assassinated Ritter? They would have checked his background with a fine-tooth comb."

"Well, not if it was covered up well enough. And you're talking a long time before the assassination. And the sixties were a crazy time."

As they meandered through the grocery store aisles gathering items for dinner, Michelle noted the whispers and glances the well-heeled patrons were giving King. At the checkout counter King tapped the shoulder of the man in front of him who was doing his best to ignore King's presence.

"How's it going, Charles?"

The man turned and blanched. "Oh, Sean, yes, good. And you? I mean…" The man looked thoroughly embarrassed at his own question, yet Sean just kept smiling.

"Shitty, Charles, just shitty. But I'm sure I can count on you, right? Got you out of that nasty tax problem a few years ago, remember?"

"What, oh, I… oh, there's Martha out front waiting. Good-bye."

Charles hustled off and climbed into a Mercedes station wagon driven by a distinguished-looking white-haired woman whose mouth dropped open when her husband started telling her of his encounter. She drove off in a huff.

As King and Michelle headed out with their grocery bags, she said, "Sean, I'm sorry about all of this."

"Hey, the good life had to end sometime."

Back at King's house he fixed an elaborate dinner that started with a Caesar salad and crab cake appetizers and was followed by pork tenderloin in a mushroom and Vidalia onion sauce and a sideserving of garlic mashed potatoes. For dessert they feasted on chocolate éclairs. They ate on the rear deck overlooking the lake.

"So you can cook, but are you available to rent for parties?" she joked.

"If the price is right," he answered.

Michelle held up her wineglass. "Nice stuff."

"It should be, it's right in its prime. I've had it in my cellar for seven years. One of my most cherished bottles."

"I'm honored."

Sean eyed the dock. "How about a spin on the lake later?"

"I'm always game for water activities."

"There are some swimsuits in the guest room."

"Sean, one thing you'll learn about me: I never go anywhere without sports gear."

With King driving the big red motorcycle-like Sea-Doo 4TEC and Michelle seated behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist, they went out about three miles, and then King dropped a small anchor into the shallow water of a cove. They sat on the Sea-Doo, and King looked around.

"Give it six weeks or so, and the colors here will be something to see," said King. "And I also love how the mountains look with the sun going down behind them."

"Okay, time for some exercise to work off that meal." Michelle took off her life jacket, then stripped off her top and sweatpants. Underneath she wore dazzling red Lycra shorts and a matching workout top.

King found himself staring at her, openmouthed, the beautiful mountain vistas no longer engaging his attention.

"Problem?" asked Michelle as she glanced at him.

"No problem here," said King as he quickly looked away.

"Last one in." She dove into the water and came up. "Going to join me?"

He stripped down and dove in and came up next to her.

Michelle eyed the shoreline. "How far do you think that is?"

"About a hundred yards. Why?"

"I'm thinking about entering a triathlon."

"Gee, why am I not surprised?"

"I'll race you," she said.

"It won't be much of a race."

"Pretty cocky, huh?"

"No, I mean you'll kick my ass."

"How do you know that?"

"You're an Olympian, I'm a middle-aged attorney with bum knees and a bad wing where I got shot doing my public service stint. It'd be like racing your grandmother with lead weights on her feet."

"We'll see. You might surprise yourself. One-two-three-go!" She took off, her strokes cutting cleanly through the warm, flat water.

King swam after her and surprisingly made up the distance fairly easily. In fact, by the time they drew close to shore they were neck and neck. Michelle started laughing when he reached over and playfully grabbed her leg. They reached land in a tie. King lay on his back and sucked in air like there wasn't enough in the entire atmosphere to satisfy him.

"Well, I guess I did surprise myself," he said between gasps. Then he looked over at Michelle. She wasn't even breathing hard, and the truth struck him.