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“Good,” he said. “That makes this self-defense.” Still holding the wrist, he hooked his other hand into Herbie’s trousers and lifted him off his feet. Herbie swung his left again, to no great effect, and he found himself sitting, precariously, on the railing. He grabbed it with his left hand and hung on for dear life. It was clear that Dink was not kidding.
Then, with a push of both hands, Dink sent Herbie backward, off the railing. For a moment, Herbie clung with his left hand, but his body twisted from his momentum, and he lost his grip and started down.
“Bye-bye, Herb,” Dink was saying.
A few feet down, Herbie flailed into a length of pipe jutting perhaps eighteen inches from the building. He had time to think that it must be a drain for the deck. He got one hand on it and dangled, trying to stop his yawing and get the other hand onto the pipe.
“Here, Herb,” Dink said, throwing a leg over the railing, “let me help you.” He put his foot on Herbie’s hand and began to press his weight onto it.
Herbie got another hand on the pipe but couldn’t free his other from Dink’s foot. Then Dink drew back his leg for a
kick.
“No stops this time,” he said, “just straight down.”
Herbie was looking up at Dink, and he saw a form behind him. Then, as Dink threw his kick, he seemed to lose his balance. The kick missed, and its momentum pulled him over the rail. “Oh, shit,” Herbie heard him say as he fell.
Dink fell past Herbie and went straight down.
Herbie was still looking up, and Marshall Brennan filled his vision. Marshall had a hand reaching for him.
“Grab it,” Marshall said, and Herbie did, then he heard a dull, crunching thud from below.
Showing surprising strength, Marshall hauled him upward until he could get both hands on the railing and a foot on the edge of the building. In a second, he was lying, panting, on the deck, and then Marshall was helping him up, aided by Stone, who had come onto the deck.
Herbie stood there trembling, leaning against Stone, who put a glass into his hand. “Take a big swig of this,” Stone said, and Herbie did so.
Dino and Mike Freeman joined them. “What happened?” he asked.
Marshall Brennan turned toward him. “An unnatural act,” he replied.
Later, Herbie sat on a sofa and talked to a police detective, remembering the things that Dino had told him and Marshall.
“Just tell me in your own words what happened,” the detective said.
“I was on the deck outside the master bedroom, then all of a sudden, Dink Brennan was there. He was standing very close to me, and somehow I went over the railing, but I caught hold of a drainpipe that held my weight. Dink was trying to help me, then so was Marshall, but somehow Dink lost his footing and came over the railing and fell past me. Marshall was trying to hold on to him but couldn’t. That’s it.”
“Were you having some sort of quarrel with Dink Brennan?”
“No, I just turned, and he was there. I tried to push him back, but he’s a big guy, and I think I must have just pushed myself over the railing.”
The detective closed his notebook, turned toward Dino, who was standing to one side. “We got a partial view from a security camera that backs everybody’s story,” he said, then he walked away.
Dino came over to Herbie. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” Herbie replied, “but I’m not sure about Marshall.”
“Stone is with him. He just needs a drink.”
“Did you hear what he said?”
“Yes, he said ‘an unnatural act.’”
“What did he mean?”
“It’s an unnatural act when a man kills his son.”
“I see.”
