Run into Trouble (20 page)

“Let’s see what Peaches has dug up.”

They had left Casey making arrangements at
the front desk. Melody knocked on Peaches’ door. When it opened,
Peaches gave a welcoming look to Melody and a neutral look to
Drake. Maybe he shouldn’t have come to Peaches’ room, but Melody
had insisted. They went inside but didn’t sit down.

Peaches looked at Melody when he spoke. “I
didn’t find anything. I went through Fred’s room very carefully. No
gun, nothing incriminating.”

Melody had asked Peaches to search Fred’s
room while Fred was out to dinner. She thanked him.

“I also searched the car and the bus. After
Fred returned with the van I searched that. Nothing.”

Fred had taken most of the runners to dinner
in the van. Drake wasn’t surprised. “He’s too smart to leave a gun
where it could easily be found. The sheriff’s officers checked the
bushes and the trash containers and didn’t come up with anything.
Wherever the gun is, it’s well hidden.”

Melody asked, “Did you get into any trouble
with the detective for having a gun?”

Peaches shook his head. “It’s licensed and
everything. It hasn’t been fired. I’m not a suspect. I wish I could
help. Grace was a good girl. She didn’t deserve to be killed. I
said I’d protect her, and I didn’t.”

“It’s not your fault.” Drake had also been
having guilt feelings. “There was nothing you could do. We don’t
know that it was Fred.”

“We don’t know that it wasn’t.”

There was obviously no love lost between
Peaches and Fred.

CHAPTER 23

Today’s run goes from the top of the first
hill on Route 1 north of the Santa Maria River to Port San Luis,
west of Avila Beach. You may take any route you like, but we
recommend that you stay on roads the whole distance, as the beach
is impassable in some areas and loaded with speeding dune buggies
in the vicinity of Pismo Beach. Although you’ll start on Route 1,
you may choose to take local roads through parts of Oceano, Grover
City, Pismo Beach, and Shell Beach.

***

“Casey and Fred didn’t give us much time to
mourn for Grace.”

Drake was momentarily taken aback by
Melody’s statement, because she was less sentimental than most
women, which was one of the things he liked about her. He knew she
was deeply frustrated by the fact that they were leaving the scene
of the crime without having any evidence as to what happened. Both
of them felt the kind of guilt that comes from thinking they should
have been able to save Grace, without knowing exactly how they
could have done it. So Melody’s emotions were understandable.
Drake, himself, harbored a pent-up fury, which threatened to
erupt.

“The damned race must go on, in spite of a
rising body count. Nothing is as important as the publicity for
California, or maybe it’s the publicity for Giganticorp, or just
maybe it’s publicity for Casey’s Senate run, although I don’t see
how negative publicity like this can help him.”

The newspapers had played up the story as
big news, even though they had little in the way of facts to write
about. But when did reporters ever let a paucity of facts get in
their way? Several reporters had asked questions of Melody, since
she had been rooming with Grace. Melody refused to speculate about
what had happened, leaving them to make up their own theories or
repeat what the sheriff’s office said about a possible mugging.

Drake, the oldest runner, was asked a few
generic questions, the kind answerable with a bland statement such
as, “She was a wonderful young woman. I don’t know why anybody
would want to hurt her.”

He was glad the men and women of the press
didn’t have enough insight to ask him penetrating questions. The
liaison between Grace and him hadn’t been leaked to them. Thank
goodness. They had talked to the other male runners, trying to
uncover a hint of a romance gone bad, but that attempt had
failed.

Drake and Melody were taking their
frustrations out on the road, running hard on the relatively level
terrain, pulling away from all the runners except the ubiquitous
Tom/Jerry and Phil/Brian teams, which they hadn’t gained on except
for the two days in which they finished first.

Melody voiced a thought that had been
bouncing around in Drake’s head. “Why don’t we quit the race? This
isn’t fun anymore.”

“Well, for one thing, we’re being paid to
run. A thousand dollars a day isn’t chicken feed.”

“Since when did you ever let money dictate
what you did?”

“Since I’ve grown old enough to worry about
my future. A few more days and I’ll have enough money to buy half
my own cabin in Idyllwild. Fifty percent makes a healthy down
payment.”

“I get the feeling you’re half serious. All
right, we’ll stay in the race, at least for the moment, with the
understanding that we’ll try to dig up evidence on what happened to
Grace. I think the murderer is amongst us and that his name is
F-R-E-D.”

“I’ll have another talk with F-R-E-D.”

“This time I’m going to join you. I want to
look him in his piggy eyes when he goes into his music hall routine
designed to obscure the truth.”

***

“I have a message for you, Mr. Drake.”

If there were any words in the English
language that could get Drake’s heart racing faster than those just
uttered by the desk clerk at the Avila Beach motel, he didn’t know
what they were. The man picked up a folded piece of paper and
handed it to Drake. He handed an identical sheet to Melody.

“Here’s one for you, Miss Jefferson.”

Drake and Melody cast alarmed glances at
each other before they focused on the pages. Drake saw his name
written in green fountain pen and knew that the writer was Fred. He
unfolded the paper and read the beautifully written message.

“I’d like to see you and Melody in my room
as soon as you get here.”

It was signed “Fred.” Drake’s level of
concern went down a few notches. Melody held her message up,
side-by-side with Drake’s. They were identical, except that hers
stated Fred would like to see her and Drake. Melody looked from one
to the other.

“It must be important if he wants to see us
when we’re hot, sweaty, tired, and bedraggled.”

Drake quashed the impulse to say that at
least Fred wouldn’t be tempted to harass her. “Maybe he’s trying to
catch us off guard.”

“But we’re not off guard, are we? Let’s
go.”

They obtained Fred’s room number from the
desk clerk and marched down the corridor to his room. He opened the
door within a few seconds of their knock. The harsh odor of
cigarette smoke issued forth from the room.

“Come in, come in. Thanks for coming so
promptly.”

Melody went into the room first and wrinkled
her nose. “Your note implied that it was important.”

“Yes. I’d like you to meet my new assistant
for Running California, Charles Ortiz. Charles flew down from San
Jose this afternoon. Charles, these are Melody Jefferson and Oliver
Drake, but call him Drake.”

They shook hands. Charles was a good looking
young man, tall and thin. He had a high-wattage smile. But Drake
was upset. This was what was so important that they had to do it
unshowered? Meet Fred’s new assistant? An assistant brought in when
Grace’s body was barely cold? He was tempted to say something
sarcastic about the situation when Fred spoke again.

“Charles will be helping me with the race,
as I said, replacing Grace.” His voice actually broke a little when
he mentioned Grace’s name. Nice touch.

“Charles, go ahead and get yourself settled.
We’ll eat dinner together, and I’ll bring you up to speed. I’ll see
you in a bit.”

Charles beamed his smile on Melody and
Drake, said, “It was nice to meet you both,” and then left the
room.”

“Have a seat.” Fred waved his arm to include
a chair and the bed. “I’m sorry I only have one chair. Can I get
you something to drink?”

Melody sat on the chair and sneezed, her
nose irritated by the smoke. Drake sat on the edge of the bed,
keeping his body straight. He didn’t want to get too comfortable.
In response to Fred’s query about a drink, he pulled a container of
Gatorade out of his pouch and sipped what remained of it. He didn’t
intend to give in an inch to Fred.

The seating arrangement didn’t leave Fred
much choice if he wanted to face them both. He leaned against a
small dresser, folded his arms, and tried not to look awkward.

“I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing new
about Grace. I’m in touch with the sheriff’s department. I’ll let
you know as soon as I hear something.”

Drake decided not to comment because that
might defuse the tension. He glanced at Melody. She was keeping a
stone face, just as he was. Neither one of them was giving Fred any
aid or comfort. They waited for him to continue.

Fred usually gave the impression of being
able to handle any situation, but at the moment he looked
distinctly uncomfortable. He wiped his face with the large
handkerchief he carried, even though it wasn’t that hot. His face
was red. When he spoke again, he sounded as bad as he looked.

“Look, I know what you two are thinking. You
think that I killed Grace. As God is my witness, I swear to you
that I didn’t do it. I may not always have behaved as well as I
should have toward her, but I would never have killed her. I’m not
that kind of person. I have my faults, but they don’t include
murder.”

He stopped speaking, obviously wanting to
say more but apparently worried that anything he said might make
matters worse.

Drake was tempted to remain silent, but
Melody spoke in a calm, unhurried voice, reciting facts. “Grace’s
alarm went off at quarter to five yesterday morning. The last time
that happened she went to your room and you told her to go to the
parking lot and pick up a letter for Drake. How do we know that’s
not what she did yesterday?”

“Because…” Fred stopped talking, went into
deep thinking mode, and then tried again. “First of all, you have
no proof that I had anything to do with those letters. Grace
probably told you that story to get herself off the hook. I suspect
she wasn’t above feathering her own nest, if you know what I mean.
You didn’t get another letter, did you?”

Drake shook his head. “Grace wasn’t in any
position to be delivering letters.”

Fred didn’t want to be accused of murder,
but he also didn’t want to get fired for participating in a betting
ring. Drake wondered whether Casey had talked to him about that. He
still had his job. Trouble seemed to bounce off him. But then, he
did have a resemblance to a ball.

Drake decided to try a different tack.
“What’s your theory as to what happened to Grace?”

Fred pondered that. “She obviously expected
to meet somebody in the parking lot. That means somebody contacted
her the day before, either by phone or in person. It would have had
to be somebody she knew quite well. Knew and trusted. If it wasn’t
me and it wasn’t one of you, it could have been one of the other
runners. The roommates vouched for each other. Everybody was
asleep. Peaches was the other person she knew at the motel. His gun
hadn’t been fired. Of course, he might have had another one.”

Melody stared at him. “Are you accusing
Peaches?”

“I didn’t say that. You asked me what
happened. I was just trying to examine the evidence.”

Drake was about ninety-nine percent certain
that Peaches hadn’t had anything to do with Grace’s death. Fred was
trying to deflect the inquiry away from himself. There wasn’t any
sense in pursuing this further at the present time.

Drake stood up. “Melody and I are tired,
dirty, and—as you’ve probably noticed—smelly. Please excuse us
while we go get cleaned up.”

Melody stood also, and they filed out of the
room.

CHAPTER 24

Today’s run goes from Port San Luis to
Cayucos, north of Morro Bay. The first part of the run is
free-form, meaning that you get to pick your own route. You can
follow the road to the nuclear power plant that’s being built, but
be advised that the first part of it is very hilly and curvy. Once
you get past the site of the power plant under construction, there
are other small roads you can take. From Los Osos you can take
South Bay Boulevard past the swamp and turn left into Morro Bay
State Park. Take Main Street into Morro Bay and surface streets
through Morro Bay, which is dominated by the picturesque Morro
Rock. Stay off the part of Route 1 that is freeway, but get on it
again before you reach Cayucos.

***

“It’s days like this that make me wonder why
I ever got into this race.”

Drake was panting hard running up the hill
from Los Osos. He and Melody had determined that the road to the
nuclear power plant was the only practical route after perusing
available maps. Melody never panted as hard or sweat as much as the
men, but she was struggling. Still, she tried to sound
optimistic.

“It’s days like this that separate the
winners from the also-rans. If we can pick the best route, we may
be able to gain some time on the others.”

“If…at the moment it appears that everyone
else is copying us.”

Or vice versa. One of the maps Drake had
gotten his hands on was a topographical map that indicated altitude
changes. He motioned for Melody to slow down a little and let the
other runners pass them. He had the topo map in his hand, folded to
show this stretch of the road.

“The road switches back on itself and passes
quite close to here at a higher altitude. There appears to be a
path connecting the two sections. If we can find it and follow it
without killing ourselves in the process, we may be able to cut off
quite a bit of distance.”

Several minutes later, the two plunged off
the paved road onto a dirt path of dubious parentage. They ran on
the hard, dry clay, trying to avoid ruts and fissures, between
sections of dense and prickly brush that they didn’t want to have
to bushwhack through. After a few anxious minutes, during which the
steepness of the terrain made them wonder whether they were headed
in the right direction, they came upon the other section of the
paved road.