Dover Beach by Richard Bowker Page A

said. "That's where a private eye can do a lot of good: he can help them when no one else will."
    "Oh, bullshit." Stretch is never vulgar. He was very upset with me. And I remembered the way I had talked to Jesus Christ. Did Stretch think I was as useless as Jesus? It wasn't fair, but how could I argue with him? And then he struck a low blow. "Look, if my opinion doesn't matter, what about Gwen? She loves you, Walter."
    "What about her? She's never said she disapproves."
    "You know Gwen. She doesn't have to."
    "Well, if she loves me, then she should accept the way I want to live my life."
    Stretch shook his head sadly. "I guess I don't know how to convince you. Maybe you'll just have to get it out of your system. Maybe failing on this case will do the trick—they don't fail in those books you read."
    "I haven't failed yet."
    "If you're looking for my help, you can't be doing very well."
    I glared at him. "Is the lecture over?"
    "The lecture's over," Stretch said softly.
    I stood up. "I'll see you later, then. I've got private eye work to do."
    "Okay, Walter. I'll see what I can do to help. Honest I will. No hard feelings?"
    "Ah, you're too short to be angry at for very long."
    Stretch grinned. "That's more like it."
    I walked out of his office.

 
     
     
    Chapter 8

     
    Dr. Winfield was eating supper in his room when I arrived to make my report. There was a half-consumed steak and a bottle of wine on a tray next to his bed. The smell of the steak and the heat in the room made me feel a little light-headed. I took my parka off and sat in an armchair by the window.
    "Glass of wine?" Winfield asked. "The vintages are starting to improve again out in California."
    I shook my head. I noticed that most of the wine was already gone. Winfield's eyes were a little glazed. "Anyone try to kill you today?" I asked.
    "Didn't give 'em an opportunity. Just stayed in here and let you do all the work." He lay back on the bed and picked up his glass. "So what did you find out?"
    I took a breath. "The evidence seems to suggest that Robert Cornwall is dead," I said. And I told him what I had discovered from Hemphill.
    Winfield's gaze drifted past me as I spoke. I couldn't tell if it was because he was drunk, or because he didn't think me interesting enough to look at. At any rate, my report sounded pretty meager; if I were the client, I would not have been impressed.
    "This guy Hemphill—he didn't actually see Cornwall die, right?" Winfield demanded when I had finished.
    "He didn't say he had seen Cornwall die, but he seemed awfully sure of it."
    "But the only evidence he gave was that Cornwall wasn't publishing in these scientific journals, right?"
    "Yeah, that's right, I guess."
    Winfield finished his wine and sat up. "He's guessing. If he really knew, why wouldn't he give you more details?"
    "I don't know. If he was guessing, why wouldn't he say so?"
    Winfield waved away my objection. He put down his glass. He picked it back up again. He rose from the bed, swaying a bit. "Cornwall is in England," he said. "It's so obvious, really, when you think about it."
    It wasn't obvious to me. "But if he's in England, why—"
    "Why hasn't anyone heard of him? Think, Sands. Remember my theory that the government was making him work on a secret cloning project? It was full of holes, obviously. I admit it. But what if he's been working for the British ? They have the resources—of course he'd go, if they asked him to. He has to continue his work."
    This idea was no better than his previous one. "But what would he be doing for them?" I asked.
    "Clones. Clones of military leaders, of politicians, of scientific geniuses. Of course, they'd keep it all secret."
    "But Hemphill doesn't think Cornwall could clone adults, and he knows more about the subject than either of us."
    "He doesn't know everything. The article I showed you yesterday—didn't you read it? Cornwall was working on a way around the problem. Obviously, he succeeded. And that's why I'm here,