Chapter 23Waves crashed against boulders. Richard watched the grey water rising from far out, ready to hurl itself in mute fury against the shoreline.
He stood just south of Ardmore Street Beach, his navy-blue coat pulled tight around him. The rocks here were terraced and rose up three levels to a small park area with trees and benches. The boulders making up the terrace were spray-painted with many different hues of neon graffiti. Kids must have come here and painted the gang logos and sayings, the philosophical questions and the professions of love.
Kids like Jimmy.
Richard imagined him on a summer evening, spray-paint can in hand, on these very boulders.
It had been only minutes since he left the Chicken Arms, just the time it had taken him to walk south and east to this spot, so lo
