Q is for Quarry (Kinsey Millhone 17)

I let myself into my room. The maid had come and gone, so my towels were fresh and my bed had been neatly made. I stretched out, reaching for the phone next to my book on the bed table. Stacey’s number was a disconnect. I had to smile at that. Since he’d been convinced he was dying, he probably hadn’t worried much about utility bills. I called Dolan’s number and left a message, asking one or the other of them to give me a call as soon as they rolled in. It was 3:00 by then and even if they’d stopped for lunch, they should arrive in Santa Teresa within the hour. I didn’t dare leave the room, for fear I’d miss their call. I tried reading, but I found myself, not surprisingly, brooding about Pudgie’s death. I thought about my conversation with Iona Mathis, wondering how she’d come up with that cockamamie notion that I’d made a deal with Pudgie to get him out of jail. I hoped her misconceptions hadn’t contributed to his death. If so, then I bore a certain responsibility for what had happened to him. The thought made me ill.

I took my shoes off and slid under the covers, pulling the spread over me. I picked up my book and read for a while, hoping to distract myself. I was warm. The room was quiet. I found myself dipping into sleep so that when the phone finally rang, I jumped, snatching up the handset while my heart thumped. The surge of adrenaline peaked and receded. It was Dolan.

I sat up and trailed my feet over the side of the bed, rubbing my face while I suppressed a yawn. “How was the trip? You sound tired.”

“I’ve felt perkier,” he said. “Stacey dropped me off half an hour ago. He’s taking a run to the Sheriff’s Department to talk to Mandel. On his way back, he plans to stop by his apartment and pick up his things. I guess we’ll think about dinner after that.”

“Is he staying with you?”

“Temporarily. You know the lease is up on his place and he has to be out by the end of the month. He assumed he’d be six feet underground by then, but I guess the gods fooled him. I asked if he wanted to stay here until he finds some place else. I can use the company.”

“Nice. That should benefit both of you if you can keep from quarreling.”

Dolan had the good grace to laugh. “We don’t quarrel. We disagree,” he said. “What about things on your end? We felt bad you got stuck holding the proverbial bag. Did you manage to amuse yourself?”

“Funny you should ask.” And then I told him about Pudgie’s death, which we discussed in detail. In the midst of dissecting events, Dolan said, “Hang on a second. Stacey just came in. I want to tell him about this.”

He put his hand across the mouthpiece to spare me the replay while he brought Stacey up to speed. Even in its muffled form, I could hear Stacey’s expletives.

He took the handset from Dolan. “That’s the last time I’m leaving you. What the hell’s going on?”

“You know as much as I do.”

He had his own set of questions about Pudgie, and then we chatted about Frankie. He said they’d do what they could to track him down and see if he could account for his whereabouts from Friday morning on. “Good news on this end. Charisse’s dental chart is a match for Jane Doe’s, so at least we nailed that down. Forensics is just about willing to swear the hairs we recovered belong to her as well. Now all we need is a match on that second set of prints and we may be in business. Have the McPhees gone in?”

“I assume so. I’ll check tomorrow morning to make sure,” I said. “When are you planning to drive back?”

“Soon as I can. I’ll hit the road the minute things here are under control.”

I heard Dolan rumbling in the background.

Stacey said, “Oh, right. Dolan left his gun in the trunk of his car. He wants to know if it’s still there.”

“I haven’t had occasion to open the trunk, but I’ll look when I can. What’s he want me to do with it?”

Dolan said something to Stacey.

“He says just make sure you get it back to him as soon as you get home.”

“Of course.”

Dolan said something else to him that I couldn’t make out.

Stacey said, “Hang on a minute.” And to Dolan, “Damn it! Would you quit talking to me when I’m on the phone with her?”

More mumbling from Dolan.

“Horsepucky. You will not.” Stacey returned. “Guy’s driving me nuts. He says he’ll do fine on his own, but he’s full of shit. Minute my back is turned, he’ll run out and buy himself a pack of cigarettes. They oughta lock him up.”