Q is for Quarry (Kinsey Millhone 17)

I waited while she double-checked, making sure the back door was locked. She turned off the lights, except for one in the hall. She tested the thumb lock on the front door, flipped it to the locked position, and pulled it shut behind her. She took her keys from her coat pocket and crossed the yard to her Ford sedan, which was parked in the driveway behind Dolan’s car.

“Did you guys go down and have your fingerprints taken?”

“Edna went Monday, but I haven’t had a chance. I’ll pop in tomorrow while I’m out running errands.”

“What about the others?”

“Adrianne said she’d try later in the week.”

“What about Ruel and Cornell?”

“Don’t look at me. I don’t want to be the one to nag them. It’s not my job.”

“You’re right. Thanks anyway. I’ll bug them myself.”

I drove to the motel with an eye on my rearview mirror. The wide streets were deserted. Businesses were shut down and most of the houses were dark. Once in my room, I spent a few minutes assuring myself everything was exactly as I’d left it. My book was facedown on the bed where I’d placed it, the bedspread still rumpled where I’d pushed it aside. The table lamp was on and the warm light made the room seem cozy. The windows were latched and I made sure the drapes were properly closed. Didn’t want any boogeymen to peek in at me. After that, I stripped out of my clothes and into the oversize T-shirt I use as a nightie. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and slid into bed. I thought my paranoia might keep me awake, but since I’m a person of no depth whatever, I fell asleep right away.

At 2:06, the phone rang. I reached for the handset automatically, noting the time as I placed it against my ear. “What.”

“Kinsey?”

“What.”

“This is Iona.”

“Okay.”

“Frankie wants to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Pudgie.”

“Put him on.”

“In person.”

I leaned over and flipped on the table lamp, which made me squint painfully and probably put permanent wrinkles on my face. “Why are you calling me in the dead of night? I’m asleep.”

“I would’ve called earlier, but he just got here.”

“Got here where?”

“Quorum. He wants you to meet us at the all-night diner.

Know the one I mean? On Main Street. It’s called the Chow Hound.”

I closed my eyes. “No offense here, but there’s no way I’m going out at this hour to talk to Frankie Miracle, so scratch that idea.”

“What if he comes there? We’re calling from a pay phone. We’re not far.”

“Like how far?”

“A block.”

“Why isn’t he on the phone instead of you?”

“He’s afraid you’ll say no.”

I laughed. “He’s worried about me? Iona, the guy’s a killer. He stabbed a woman fourteen times.”

“But he’s paid for his crime. He went to prison and now he’s out.”

“Oh, crap. Why am I arguing with you? If you want to come over, I’ll open the window and talk to him through the screen. That’s as much as I can offer.”

“Okay.”

I hung up and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. This was not the kind of hotel that offered complimentary robes (hell, I felt lucky they offered complimentary toilet paper!), so I pulled on a sweatshirt. I thought about it briefly and pulled on my jeans. By then, I could see headlights arc across the drapes. I turned off the lamp and crossed to the window, peering out as Frankie’s white pickup pulled into a slot two doors down. Iona was at the wheel. She waited in the truck with the engine running, probably trying to keep warm, while Frankie got out on the passenger side and slammed the door. I said, “Great. Wake everybody up. I’ll feel safer that way.”

I watched him check room numbers until he got to mine. As soon as he was close, I slid the window open a crack. “Hello, Frankie.”

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Come on. I can’t stand around out here. It’s fuckin’ cold.”

“I don’t need a weather report. I know it’s cold. You want to talk, I’m listening, but get on with it.”

“All right,” he said, irritably. He paused to light a cigarette. Despite the low-watt outside lighting, I could see him clearly— the brown wavy hair, the smooth baby face. He peered over his shoulder, his manner embarrassed. “I heard about Pudgie. I just wanted you to know I had nothing to do with it.”