1) by Karen MacInerney FOUR I CLOSED MY EYES for a moment, and then forced myself to look again. The sunlight gleamed on Katz’s bald head, which hung from his body at an impossible angle. His limp arm, clad in the sleeve of a button-down shirt, was draped over a rock. He looked like an oversized doll that had been flung down by an angry child. I leaned back against the rocks, fighting the urge to vomit. Katz looked as if he were beyond help. In a way, that was a good thing, because I couldn’t see any way to get down to help him. In fact, I was in need of a little assistance myself. A shiver passed through me. If it hadn’t been for the ledge, it might have been me on the rocks next to him. I massaged my aching hands and stared out to sea, trying not to look at the body askew on the rocks. It didn’t seem possible that Bernard Katz, who had been alive and boisterous and planning to ruin my inn just last night, was dead. I didn’t like Katz, but I didn’t wish this on him.
