“Yes,” she said. “But, wait. I did notice yesterday that somebody had broken a pane of glass in the garage window—”
“We know about that. Well, we won’t keep you any longer.”
They came back past the side of the car, got in the cruiser, and went on down the road. I sighed with relief. She backed on out of the driveway, stopped, and started ahead. In a moment I felt the car make a right turn. We were on one of the main streets that went up through town and bisected the highway. I began to hear other cars passing. Traffic grew heavier, and twice we stopped for traffic lights. I could hear pedestrians crossing. Then we turned right once more and began to go faster. We were on the highway. Then, abruptly, we slowed and began to inch along. We stopped and then started slowly ahead again. The road block, I thought. I heard a police radio again, not much more than an arm’s length away, and a man’s voice said, “All right, lady.” We began to gather speed. I exhaled slowly. We were beyond them.
I tried to guess where she was taking me, and why, but gave up. She’d said back to Sanport, and if I’d guessed all the turns correctly, that was the direction we were headed now, but what part of town she meant and what she was up to were a complete mystery. I tried to guess what time it was, and thought it must be after six. It was probably dark outside, judging from the impenetrable blackness here in the trunk. I could move a little, and there seemed to be plenty of air. I listened to the high whine of tires on wet pavement and hoped she was a good driver. Locked in the trunk of a flaming wreck would be a horrible way to die. Then I wondered if I didn’t have enough to worry about now, without borrowing more.
After what could have been anywhere from half an hour to an hour she slowed and made another turn. The sounds changed. There weren’t nearly as many cars hurtling past in the other direction. They dwindled until we seemed to be almost alone on the road, and then the road itself was different. We were off the pavement, and she was driving more slowly. I thought I heard surf. She stopped and cut off the engine. I could hear the rain again, drumming gently on the metal above me. Then she was inserting the key in the lock.
I climbed out. She had cut the headlights, but I could make out that we were on a strip of deserted beach with a light surf running up on the sand just beyond us. In back was the dark line of some sort of low vegetation like salt cedar. Rain fell gently on my head.
“Get the topcoat and hat,” she said, and ducked back in the car.
I took them out, closed the trunk, and got in beside her. I could just see the pale blur of her face and the blonde head. “Where are we?” I asked.
“West Beach, just south of the airport,” she replied. “We’re safe enough. On a night like this there won’t be many cars around.”
“You’re going to drop me here? Is that it?”
“I’m not going to drop you at all. That is, unless you want to be dropped. Do you?”
“Don’t make jokes,” I said. “But why are you sticking your neck out like this? They could make it plenty rough for you.”
“I know,” she said. “Here.” She took cigarettes from her purse and punched in the lighter on the dash. In the soft orange glow as she lighted hers, I could see the outline of her face and the alert and faintly cynical gray eyes.
“What’s the deal?” I asked.
“No deal,” she said coolly. “Except you might interest me. That’s possible.”
“Why didn’t you notify the police when you got away yesterday? I thought that’s what you did it for.”
“It was, naturally. But after I got away, I found I couldn’t. I’m not sure just why. Maybe it was because you saved my life—in spite of the fact I’m not positive it’s worth saving. Anyway, I went on home and said nothing about it, thinking I’d just let you hide out there until you had a chance to sneak out and get away.”
‘Then why did you come back?”
“Several reasons. In the first place, I started thinking about your story and began checking it. It’s interesting. And then it occurred to me that if you were caught in the cottage I might be implicated and charged with harboring a fugitive. After all, it could be proved I’d been out there after you’d broken in and therefore must know you were in the place and hadn’t reported it. So it would be safer to go all the way and get you out of there to a place where they couldn’t find you. Then this afternoon I read in the paper that they were thinking of searching all those cottages.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“My apartment,” she said. “Sanport is the last place they’d think of looking for you now, and you’ll be completely out of sight until your face heals. I’ve got you some more clothes. But we’re going to have to wait until after midnight before we try to sneak you in there. In the meantime, there are a lot of things I want to tell you.”
“And a couple I’d like to tell you,” I said. “I think you’re wonderful. And thanks a million.”
I made a move toward her. She put a hand in my chest. “Easy, boy. Don’t start that parked-car routine. We’re not teen-agers. And I said I wanted to talk to you.”
“All right. What is it?”
“First, I want to ask a question. How well do you think you can trust your friend Red Lanigan? Tell me something about him.”
”Why?” I asked.
“What do you know about Red?”
“Practically nothing, except that I talked to him today.”
“Does he know who you are?”
“No,” she replied. “I called him on the phone and merely said I was a friend of yours and that I might be able to help you. What I was doing, of course, was checking your story—or at least the part of it he would know. And he told it the same way. I think you’re telling the truth. I’m also beginning to believe there was somebody in Stedman’s apartment when you got there. And I gathered Lanigan thinks there’s a possibility of it also. What about him?”
“He’s a pretty nice guy. Used to be a pro-football player, linebacker for the Pittsburgh Steelers. I used to play a little football myself in high school, and I’m a nut on the pro game, so we got pretty chummy in the couple of years I’ve known him. That’s a neighborhood bar, and I lived up in the next block, you know. That is, when I was in port. So I was one of the regulars; you know how those neighborhood places are. Sometimes we go fishing together during my vacation. It was Red that stopped me from climbing on Stedman there in the bar last trip. Stedman used to hang out there quite a bit too, you know. Along with several other detectives. But what’s it all about?”
“I think he’s got something he wants to tell you. About a girl.”
“What girl?” I asked quickly.
“That’s it. He doesn’t know, except he thinks Stedman might have been involved with her.”
“Stedman was involved with plenty of girls. Including my wife.”
“I know,” she said. “Lanigan told me a little about him. And, incidentally, your wife is in Reno, in case you’ve wondered. The police checked through the Nevada police.”
‘’Why?” I asked.
“Trying to establish your motive. She admitted going out to nightclubs with Stedman a couple of times, but said that was as far as it went.”
“Sure, sure,” I said. “He was just a Boy Scout. Everybody knows that. But what about this other girl?”
“He didn’t tell me much. I gathered it was just an idea he had, but he wants you to get in touch with him. He suggested you call the pay phone there in the bar. He gave me the number. You don’t suppose that could be a trap? I mean, that the police would tap it?”
I thought about it. “No. I don’t think so. Red’s got too much to lose to put himself out on a limb by helping me hide from the police, but I don’t think he’d double-cross me. He wants to use the pay phone because it’s in a booth and he could talk without being heard all over the bar. Where could I get to a phone without being seen?”