Beware the Curves

along rather slowly.
    That was the girl’s car.
    I gave her about five minutes’ start, then gave my car the gas. I overtook her, went tearing on past, got over a little rise in the road and slowed almost to a stop. When I saw her headlights in my rearview mirror I kept going. I kept ahead of her for another twenty or thirty miles before she got the idea. Then she came barreling up with her headlights on high blazing into my rearview mirror and crowded me off the road. I stopped and she stopped.
    She got out of the car and walked over to the window. “What did you say your name was?”
    “Donald Lam.”
    “What do you do, Mr. Lam?”
    ‘I’m a private detective.”
    “How interesting! You don’t have one of your cards, do you?”
    I gave her one of my cards.
    “Could I see your driving license, just to check?”
    I showed her the driving license. She put the card in her purse. “All right,” she said, now I know who you are, and if you keep annoying me on the road I’m going to have you arrested when we get to Reno.”
    ”Arrested for what?”
    ”Arrested for annoying me and a few other assorted misdemeanors.”
    I smiled and said, “This is a public highway. I haven’t annoyed you in any way. You’re going to Reno. I’m going to Reno.”
    “You mean there’s nothing I can do?” she asked.
    “Not a thing unless I try to flirt with you, and I haven’t done that. I haven’t annoyed you. I’ve followed the letter of the law as far as driving is concerned and—”
    She reached up her left hand, hooked it in the neck of her blouse and jerked.
    The fabric gave a rip. She lifted the hem of her skirt, took the cloth in both hands and pulled. For a minute she couldn’t make it, then the hem gave way and the skirt ripped halfway up to the waist.
    “Ever hear of criminal assault?” she asked.
    I nodded.
    “All right, that’s what you’ve done. Have any idea what the penalty for that is?”
    I shook my head.
    “I don’t either,” she said, “but there’s a very nice, homey, little penitentiary down at Carson City and that’s where you’re going. You asked for this, Mr. Lam. Now you’re going to get it. I tried to be nice about it, but you had to be the smart guy.
    “You followed me along the road. I stopped to protest. You grabbed me and threw me down by the side of the road. I struggled to free myself. Finally the lights of another car showed up and I screamed for help. You let go of me and I dashed to my car and managed to keep ahead of you all the way into Reno.”
    “You aren’t in Nevada yet,” I told her. “You’re still in California.”
    She didn’t answer that, just turned, raced back to her car, jumped in behind the steering wheel, slammed the door and took off from there fast.
    I tried to pass her and couldn’t. She was driving like the devil and whenever I’d try to get by she’d swing over to the center of the road.
    We were doing eighty when the red spotlight blazed on behind me. The officer waved me off to the side of the road.
    There was nothing for it. I swung over to the side of the road.
    The traffic officer pulled alongside. “Follow me,” he ordered, “but don’t try to keep up with me. I’m stopping that car up ahead.”
    He took off with a roar. I gave the bus all it would take. I saw the red light on the girl’s car, heard the scream of the siren softened by distance.
    The girl gave him a run for it. I had to step on it to keep up with him. He finally got her crowded off the road just before we came to the state line, about fifteen miles out of Reno.
    The officer was mad.
    I came up behind, parked my car, got out and walked over to where the officer was standing.
    I raised my voice. “You should have given me an opportunity to explain back there. I tried to catch your attention.”
    He whirled to me. “You get the hell back there and mind your own business,” he blazed. “I told you to take easy. I was going ninety miles an hour catching up to this car and you were right behind me.”
    “Sure, I was right behind you!” I shouted at him. “I was trying to stop you. What the hell did you think I was trying to do?”
    The belligerency in my voice caused him to size me up, taking a new slant on the situation.
    “Someone assaulted this girl,” I said. “We were dashing ahead looking for the law. If you’d only stopped and listened to what I was trying to tell you, you could have caught that carload of hoodlums going toward Susanville. But not