Magic Street
Chapter One
Bag Man
The old man was walking along the side of the Pacific Coast Highway
in Santa Monica, gripping a fistful of plastic grocery bags. His
salt-and-pepper hair was filthy and hanging in that sagging parody
of a Rastafarian hairdo that most homeless men seem to get, white or
black. He wore a once-khaki jacket stained with oil and dirt and
grass and faded with sunlight. His hands were covered with gardening
gloves.
Dr. Byron Williams passed him in his vintage Town Car and then
stopped at the light, waiting to turn left to go up the steep road
from the PCH to Ocean Avenue. A motorcycle to the left of him gunned
its engine. Byron looked at the cyclist, a woman dressed all in
black leather, her face completely hidden inside a black plastic
helmet. The blank faceplate turned toward him, regarded him for a
long moment, ... read full excerpt from Magic Street ebook
