I gave him a brief rundown of my dealings with Phyllis and my bitter acquaintance with her ex. “Now Ned has transportation, so who knows where he’s gone?”
“Her car is too conspicuous to drive more than a day. He’ll dump it first chance he gets. Altman said he’d make sure the information is in the pipeline. And not just Perdido PD. County sheriff’s office and California Highway Patrol.”
“Ned’s slippery. I don’t know where he’s holing up, but he’s managed to make himself scarce. We canvassed motels down here and picked up a lead from the manager of a place he stayed over last weekend. He was spotted twice in Santa Teresa after that, but he dropped out of sight until this. We even have the homeless population on red alert, checking the beaches and other sites used by transients. So far, all we have is the wreckage he’s left in his wake.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I’ve lost touch with how tired I am, but I know it’s time to hit the sack. I was just heading for my car when I saw you.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you to the parking lot, just in case he’s out there hoping to catch you by surprise.”
By the time I started for home, it was close to three a.m. The road was sparsely trafficked and I rolled down my driver’s-side window, letting cold air stream in as a means of keeping myself alert. There was nothing I could do for Phyllis and nothing I could do about Ned, whose shadow cast a pall I couldn’t seem to shake. My prime concern was whether I was in any way responsible for his finding her. I knew I hadn’t said a word to anyone, but somehow Ned had gotten wind of her address and he’d gone after her with a vengeance. There had to be a leak somewhere. Phyllis wasn’t careless with personal information, but others might not have exercised the same caution.
In addition to my worries about Phyllis, I was still brooding about being fired, though it was my own damn fault. Lauren McCabe had told me point-blank her son wasn’t to be considered as a person of interest when it came to the extortion threat. Despite the McCabes’ initial skepticism, they’d apparently accepted his claim that the tape was a hoax. Then I’d gone to Troy and voiced my suspicion that the hoax business was no more than a cover story. Wrong move on my part. He must have headed straight for the phone to alert Fritz that I was questioning the assertion. Of course, the minute Troy stonewalled me, I knew I was right. Not that it made any difference. Since I had been shit-canned, the identity of the extortionist wasn’t my problem now. The question weighed on me nonetheless. I wouldn’t pursue it. I wasn’t even tempted to do so, but it was unfinished business and that didn’t sit well with me.
? ? ?
I slept late on Sunday morning and finally dragged myself out of bed close to noon. I brushed my teeth and then pulled on my sweats and my running shoes. I found an old fanny pack, where I put my house keys and a folded twenty-dollar bill. Henry’s back door was open and I could smell bacon and eggs. Killer was sleeping on the welcome mat on Henry’s back porch, and since there was no sign of Lucky or Pearl, I assumed he’d invited them for brunch. I can be churlish about such things. At the moment, however, I was still feeling raw from the lack of sleep and I didn’t much care.
I crossed the yard to his back door, stepped over the snoring, slobbering pooch, and knocked on the screen. From what I could see, the three of them were just finishing their meal. Henry set his napkin down and got up to let me in.
“Kinsey. Good to see you. I knocked on your door earlier, but got no response. Why don’t you come in and join us?”
I waved off the invitation, saying, “Thanks. I’m on my way out, but I wanted to check on Ed. Is he back?”
“No sign of him. As soon as we clean up here, we’ll do another run through the neighborhood. He’s done this before so I’m not worried. Yet. Moza tells me there are half a dozen houses he visits, begging for treats.” Henry’s tone was polite throughout, but he wasn’t making eye contact. No big surprise, since he was still laboring under the notion that I was knocked up.
“You think he was picked up by Animal Control?”
“I doubt it. Just to be on the safe side, I called and left a message. I haven’t heard back, but I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“Well, I have to go out for a couple of hours. If he doesn’t show up in the meantime, leave a note on my door, and I’ll help with the search. We need to talk anyway.”
“I should think so,” he said.
I was too tired to get into it right then and it wasn’t a discussion I wanted to embark on if Pearl and Lucky were listening. I said, “See you later.”
He said, “Take care.”
I stepped over the dog again, pausing to watch him whimper and twitch in the throes of some doggie dream. I hoped he caught whatever he was chasing. I walked around to the front, let myself out through the squeaky gate, and headed for the beach path. I didn’t have the energy to jog, so instead I walked. I followed Cabana Boulevard three blocks to State Street and then eight blocks up State past my old office at California Fidelity Insurance. The walk was good for me, allowing me to take in changes in the downtown businesses I wouldn’t have noticed by car. Some shops had closed down, some had moved, and one was trumpeting yet another in a series of liquidation sales.
Eight blocks later, I reached a hole-in-the-wall Mexican diner where I sat at the counter and loaded up on carbs: huevos rancheros, sopes, beans and rice, two cheese enchiladas, a chicken taco, and three cups of coffee. Then I walked the sixteen blocks back to my place. There was no note on my door, which I hoped meant Ed was home safe and sound. Pearl, Lucky, and the dog were gone and Henry’s place was buttoned up tight. I let myself into the studio, locked the door behind me, and went back to bed. It was 1:35 by then and I slept through the rest of the day and through the night. I’m too old to be pulling an all-nighter. Witness the toll it took out of my poor beleaguered hide.
By Monday morning, I was feeling restored to my usual optimism. I did make one adjustment in the aftermath of Ned’s attack. I hauled my H&K and holster out of the trunk at the foot of my bed. If Ned was declaring war, I’d be carrying. I pulled my navy blue windbreaker over my rig and checked the effect. Not bad. I’d half expected a note from Henry slipped under my door, confirming that Ed was safely in hand, but there was no word.
By the time I emerged from my studio at eight thirty, Cullen, the technician from the S.O.S. Alarm Company, was coming out of Henry’s back door, already at work on the installation that would provide security for both his residence and mine.
I said, “Hey, Cullen. Is Henry here?”
“No ma’am. He just left. He showed me where he wanted the control panels and then he and the lady in the wheelchair went over to Kinko’s to have fliers made up about the cat. One of the neighbors said she thought she saw him over on Bay, so that scruffy guy with the big dog is checking that out. Henry says they have it under control and he’ll call you if he needs help.”