Honeymoon for Three

surveillance from here, and his car blended in with all the other Fords on the road.
    Alfred relaxed the intense concentration he had been forced into from the moment he had awakened. Then he began to be aware of other things. Number one, he had to go to the bathroom. Was this a problem that all detectives and spies faced? Number two, he needed to get gas. He should have filled the tank yesterday, but it had slipped his mind.
    Gary had one big advantage over him. The VW got excellent mileage. His boat got lousy mileage, as he’d found out when he’d driven it cross-country from Connecticut. His parents had given him the car several years ago. He had persuaded them to give him the same model that Penny had, although, of course, he hadn’t said that was the reason he wanted it. He had been thrilled with it at the time, but this mileage problem was a major shortcoming.
    Alfred opened the glove compartment and drove with one hand while he found his map of California. He spread it out as well as he could and placed it on the steering wheel in front of him. If they were headed for the big national parks, what route were they likely to take? Shifting his eyes between the road and the map, he studied the possibilities.
    The answer was Route 395, which went north out of San Bernardino. If they turned onto 395, they were probably going to be on it for a long time, and it would be safe for him to stop. He had to make sure. Would his gas last that long? Would his bladder hold that long?
    By the time they entered San Bernardino, the gas gauge was tickling empty, and Alfred was in agony. He saw a sign to 395. Five miles to go. Four miles. Hold on. Not much longer. Three miles. When they were within a mile of the exit, the VW pulled into the right lane, ending the suspense. Yes, they were turning.
    Alfred also pulled into the right lane, but well behind the other car. He took the cloverleaf exit and in a minute found himself heading north on 395. He looked frantically for a gas station and pulled into the first one he saw. He stopped the car with a screech of tires, opened the door, and sprinted toward the Men’s room.
    ***
    “Have you ever been to Reno?” Penny asked.
    Gary glanced at her, sitting beside him, wearing shorts and a white blouse. He was sure he was doing the right thing. She had gotten a permanent to curl her short, brown hair, which was blowing in the breeze entering through the partially open windows. Her inquisitive brown eyes matched the color of her hair. She looked desirable, but she was also smart and sensible. All in all, an ideal wife.
    The car didn’t have air-conditioning, and the open windows helped to moderate the inside temperature, made warm by the still potent sun of the late August day. They were heading north and would soon encounter cooler weather.
    “I’ve been to Reno once. My brother, Tom, and I drove through Reno on our vacation trip in nineteen-sixty-two. We stopped there for about twenty minutes. I won ten bucks playing blackjack. Then we drove on toward San Francisco where we were meeting friends. So I’m a lifetime winner in Reno.”
    “Did you actually see any wedding chapels there?”
    “I think so. There are wedding chapels in Las Vegas, so there must be some in Reno. It’s known as the divorce capital of the U.S. Don’t weddings and divorces go together?”
    “Bite your tongue. Once we get married, it’s going to be forever.”
    Gary hoped that was true. “Where a need exists, somebody’s going to supply what is needed. Since there’s a waiting period to get married in California, Nevada is filling the gap, so to speak.”
    Penny was looking at the map. “It’s going to be dark before we get to the campground.”
    “That’s all right. All we have to do is to put up the tent and unroll the sleeping bag.”
    The double sleeping bag Penny and her two girlfriends had slept in when they had driven across the country two years before, fresh out of college. Gary liked the concept of a double sleeping bag.
    ***
    How far were they going? Alfred hadn’t reckoned with the necessity of following them in the dark. Especially now that they had turned off 395 onto a smaller road that was curving its way through the mountains toward Lake Tahoe. He could see this from the signs, even though he could no longer read his map.
    A while back they had entered Nevada on 395, but if they continued in this direction they would reenter California. That set Alfred’s mind at rest