Of course there were constant TV news updates about the manhunt for Gretchen. The way the TV newsies talked about it, you’d think they wanted her to get away.
Susan closed her laptop. Gretchen Lowell on the loose. Archie Sheridan just down the hall. There she was in the thick of the biggest story of the year. Her blog had gotten over a million hits. She should have been thrilled. But she couldn’t get Molly Palmer out of her head.
Susan slid the laptop onto the bed. Her legs were still warm from it.
“You’re going to get thigh cancer from that thing,” Bliss said, her eyes still trained on the TV news.
Susan stretched. “There’s no such thing as thigh cancer,” she said.
“Not yet,” Bliss said.
Susan felt stiff and tense and a little stir-crazy. “I need a cigarette,” she announced. “Will you distract Nurse Ratched?”
Bliss flicked her attention off the screen to Susan. “Who?” she asked.
“The cop in the hall,” Susan said.
“How?” Bliss asked.
Susan pulled on her sweatshirt. “Talk to him,” she said.
Bliss’s face creased with concern. “What should I say?” she asked.
Susan shrugged. “Ask him about windows,” she said.
Charlene Wood was yammering away on the television, as the screen showed images of the Beauty Killer’s victims.
“Are you sure it’s safe for you to go out?” Bliss asked.
Susan stowed her cigarettes and a lighter in the pocket of her sweatshirt. “Keep an ear out,” Susan said, pulling up her hood. “If Gretchen Lowell tries to get me, I’ll scream.”
It wasn’t even hard. Bliss went out and talked to Bennett and Susan was able to slip right down the stairs. Bennett was too engrossed to notice. Maybe he’d heard about the peace sign.
Susan was free and she had nothing to do. She didn’t have her notes. Ian wanted her at the Arlington for the blog, and as long as he had power over the Castle story, she wanted to keep Ian happy.
Susan lit a cigarette and inhaled. That first drag was the best. Her whole body relaxed a little. It was a bit like sex that way, always a relief. She tried to tell herself that she smoked because she liked smoke breaks—those forced little interludes of solitude and contemplation—but the truth was, she liked the nicotine.
The downtown ornamental streetlights had just come on and a couple of seagulls that had wandered in from the coast were squawking in the park. Portland was an hour from the Pacific, and Susan didn’t know why the gulls came so far inland, but they were always there, padding around the river, shitting on the esplanade, wandering the parks. A kid covered in tattoos and piercings flew by on a skateboard and the gulls barely gave him a glance.
It was in the high sixties, warm for evening, and pretty. The nighttime Pacific Northwest sky was a blend of pastels. There were lights on in some of the downtown buildings, late-night workers or cleaners or clandestine office affairs.
Susan took another drag off the cigarette. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the second drag was the best.
Molly had smoked Kools. Susan wondered if her estranged family was going to have a funeral service. If they did, Susan pledged to herself that she would bring a pack of Kools and put it in the casket.
A voice said, “You can’t smoke here, ma’am,” and Susan looked up to see the ghoulish Arlington Club concierge moving toward her waving his hand like a fan.
She glanced behind her to see if he was talking to someone else. Susan was, after all, standing outside. On a public sidewalk. Not bothering anyone at all. And she’d told him not to call her “ma’am.”
The concierge kept waving his hand. “Ma’am?” he said.
Susan took another drag off the cigarette. “Why not?” she asked.
“You’ll disturb the guests,” he said, as if it were obvious.
She gestured, with her cigarette, to the dark brick fa?ade of the building, its green awning, the park, the cars on the street. “I’m outside.”
“But they have to pass you,” he said. He opened the big glass doors to illustrate. “Coming and going.”
Susan looked down at her cigarette. It needed ashing. But she was afraid to ash on the sidewalk in front of this guy. He’d probably make her clean it up. “Where am I supposed to go?”
He pointed across the street to the park.