F Is for Fugitive

talked to you herself?"
    He shook his head. "I wish she had. Maybe I could have done something for her, I don't know. She had her crazy side. We're not talking about a girl who'd agree to an abortion. She never would have given that baby up and she wouldn't have kept quiet. She'd have insisted on marriage, regardless of the price. I have to tell you – I know it sounds horrible, but I have to say this – I was relieved when she died. Enormously. When I understood the risk I'd taken... when I saw what I had at stake. It was a gift. I cleaned up my act right then. I never screwed around on Karen again."
    "I believe you," I said. But what was bothering me? I could feel an idea churning, but I couldn't quite sense what it was.
    Dwight was going on. "It was a bit of a rude awakening when I heard the stories going around after she'd been killed. I was naive enough to think we had something special between us, but that turned out not to be the case."
    I kept picking at it like a bone. "So if she didn't turn to you for help, she could have turned to somebody else."
    "Well, yes, but she didn't have much time for that, as I understand. She had the test done in Lompoc and got the results that afternoon. By midnight she was dead."
    "How long does it take to make a phone call?" I said. "She had hours. She could have called half the guys in Floral Beach and some in San Luis, too. Suppose it was someone else? Suppose you were just a cover for another relationship? There must have been other guys with just as much to lose."
    "I'm sure it's possible," he said, but he sounded dubious.
    The phone rang, a harsh sound in the stillness of the big house. Dwight leaned back, reaching over to pick up the receiver from the end table by the couch. "Hello? Oh, hi."
    His face had brightened with recognition and I saw his eyes stray to my face as the person on the other end of the line went on. He was making "unh-hunh" noises while someone rattled on. "No, no, no. Don't worry. Hang on. She's right here." He held the phone out and I took it. "It's Ann," he said.
    "Hi, Ann. What's happening?"
    Her voice was cold and she was clearly upset. "Well. At long last. Where the hell have you been? I've been looking for you for hours."
    I found myself squinting at the phone, trying to determine the reason for the tone she had taken.
    What was wrong with her? "Is there a deputy with you?" I asked.
    "I think we could say that."
    "You want to wait and call me back when he goes?"
    "No, I don't, dear. Here's what I want. I want you to get your ass down here right away! Daddy checked himself out of the hospital and he's been bugging me ever since. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" she shrieked. "Do you have any idea... do you have any IDEA what's been going on? DO YOU? Goddamn it!..."
    I held the phone away from my ear. She was really building up a head of steam here. "Ann, stop that. Calm down. It's too complicated to go into right now."
    "Don't give me that. Don't you dare ever, ever give me that."
    "Don't give you what? What are you so upset about?"
    "You know perfectly well," she snapped. "What are you doing over there? You listen to me, Kinsey. And you listen good..."
    I started to interrupt, but she'd just put a palm across the mouthpiece, talking to someone in the background. The deputy? Oh hell, was she telling him where I was?
    I replaced the receiver in the cradle.
    Dwight was looking at me with perplexity. "You okay? What was that about?"
    "I have to go to San Luis Obispo," I said carefully. It was a lie, of course, but it was the first thing that occurred to me. Ann had told them where I was. Within minutes this whole cul-de-sac would be blocked off, the neighborhood swarming with deputies. I had to get out of there, and I didn't think it was wise to let him know where I was headed.
    "San Luis?" he said. "What for?"
    I moved toward the front door. "Don't worry about it. I'll be back in a bit."
    "Don't you need a car?"
    "I'll get one."
    I closed the door behind me, leaped off the porch, and ran.

Chapter 25
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    The Ocean Street Motel was only four blocks away. It wasn't going to take the cops long. I kept to the pavement until I caught the sound of a vehicle accelerating up the hill. I took a dive into the bushes as a black-and-white sped into view, heading straight for Dwight's place. Lights flashing, no siren. A second black-and-white gunned up the hill after the first. Hotdoggers. The deputy in the second car was probably twenty-two. Big career ahead of him,