R is for Ricochet (Kinsey Millhone 18)

She opened the door and snapped it shut behind her. In the face of her conviction, I hadn't managed to challenge her view or express even the first shred of protest. There was an element of truth in what she'd said, but it wasn't the whole truth.

"Miss Millhone?"

I turned to find Freddy standing in the hall behind me. "Did you hear her? The woman's horrible," I said.

"Now that she's gone, I wanted to let you know. Reba was here. She arrived shortly before Miss Cunningham stopped by to pick up Mr. Lafferty's things."

"Where'd she go?"

"I don't know. She came by cab and she was only home long enough to pick up her car and a change of clothes. She said she'd go over to the hospital to see her father, but she'd time it to avoid crossing paths with Miss Cunningham. She's going to call Mr. Lafferty's doctor and have his visitors restricted to family only, including me, of course." Freddy permitted herself a sly smile. "That was my idea."

"Serves Lucinda right. How serious is his condition?"

"The doctor says he'll be fine. He was dehydrated and his electrolytes were out of balance. I believe he's suffering from anemia as well. The doctor intends to keep him for a couple of days."

"Well, good. That's one less thing to worry about, especially if the staff can keep Lucinda at bay. Did Reba say anything at all about where she'd be?"

"Staying with a friend."

"She doesn't have a friend. Here in town?"

"I believe so. This was a fellow, someone she met after she got home."

I thought about that briefly. "Maybe someone from AA… though now that I say that, it seems unlikely. I can't see her at a meeting this late in the game. What about reaching her? Did she leave a number?"

Freddy shook her head. "She said she'd call by the house at nine, but she was concerned Mr. Beckwith would find her again."

"I'll bet. Lucinda's been dishing out the information right and left," I said. "Look, if you hear from her, tell her it's important we talk. Did she leave a suitcase by any chance?"

"No, but she did have one with her. She put it in the trunk of her car before she left."

"Well, let's hope she calls in." I glanced at my watch. "I'll be at my office for the next couple of hours and then I'll head home."

My office always feels odd at night, its flaws and shabbiness exaggerated by the artificial light. As I sat at my desk, all I saw through the window was dinginess reflected back at me, the dust and ancient rain streaks barring any view of the street. On weekends this part of downtown Santa Teresa is dead after 6:00 P.M., city buildings closed for the night, the courthouse and public library dark. The bungalow I occupied was the middle unit of three; identical stucco structures that, at some point, represented modest housing. Since I'd moved in, the bungalows on both sides of mine had remained vacant, which afforded me the quiet I preferred, at the same time creating an unsettling sense of isolation.

I sorted through the mound of mail the carrier had shoved through my slot. Much junk, a few bills, which I sat down and paid. I was restless, eager to get home, but felt I should stay, in the hopes that Reba would call. I did some filing. I straightened out my pencil drawer. It was make-work but gave me something useful to do. I kept glancing at the phone, willing it to ring, so when someone rapped on my side window, I nearly leaped out of my skin.

Reba was outside, concealed in the shadowy space between my bungalow and its twin next door. She'd traded her shorts for jeans and her white T-shirt looked like the one she'd been wearing when she left CIW. I unlocked the window and raised the sash. "What are you doing?"

"You have access to those garages out back?"

"Sure, the one for this unit. I've never used it, but the landlord did give me the keys."

"Grab 'em and let's go. I gotta get my car off the street. I've had those goons on my tail ever since I left the house."

"The ones we saw in L.A.?"

"Yeah, only one of 'em now has a black eye, like he walked into a door."

"Oh, dear. Wonder if I did that with my widdle chair," I said. "How'd you get away?"

"Fortunately, I know this town a lot better than they do. I led 'em around for a while, then sped up, doused my lights, turned down a little side road, and then behind a hedge. The minute I saw their car pass, I doubled back and came here."

"Where have you been all this time?"

She seemed agitated. "Don't ask. I've been busy as a little bee. Get a move on. I'm cold."