Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

know you had seen him because he turned out to be the dead guy you fell on, but you didn’t know that. Now this Alfred guy shows up wanting to talk to me about quilts.”
    “Max, what’s your point?”
    “Don’t you see? There are too many coincidences. Now Lieutenant Mal … whatever his name is …”
    “Malloy.”
    “Malloy, wants to talk to you. I bet they are all related.
    “Max you’re doing it again. How about we just wait until I call him back.”
    “I’ve got to get ready to go to work.”
    “Good.”

CHAPTER 71
    MALLOY WAS AT HIS DESK when Jack called. “Yes. Thank you for getting back to me …”
    After the obligatory pleasantries, Malloy got down to business. He reviewed what had happened at the race, reconfirming the details of Jack’s account. Satisfied, he then asked about Alfred.
    “No. I don’t know anyone named Alfred Whitson,” responded Jack.
    “He’s an antiques dealer from down this way, and apparently he’s also a runner. Have you ever met him, or did you maybe see him at the race?”
    “Sorry, but no.” Jack had a feeling that he was expected to know this Alfred Whitson, but he drew a blank, which made him feel uneasy. “The name doesn’t sound familiar. Do you know what he looks like?”
    “I haven’t met him yet, but the description we have is that he’s average height and wears thick glasses. Narrow face. Sound familiar?”
    “No. Not really. Why are you so interested in him?”
    “Just part of the investigation,” he said.
    Suddenly, Cat caught Jack’s attention as she wound her body against Max’s legs. Apparently, Max had just come out of the shower. He forgot all about the phone as her towel shifted while she scratched Cat’s head. He smiled and she asked, “Who’re you talking to?”
    “Lieutenant Malloy,” he answered. Then, realizing that he still had the phone in his hand, Jack said to Malloy, “Sorry. Someone just came in.”
    Jack was still finding it hard to concentrate on what Malloy was saying. “What did you say his name was again?”
    “Alfred Whitson.”
    Jack repeated the name aloud, then added, “I don’t know him. Sorry.”
    Before he could say anything else, Max waved her hand in front of his face. “Jack! That’s the guy who came into the bar today. Patti talked to him.”
    “Hold on a second,” Jack said to Malloy and turned toward Max. “What did you say?”
    “I said, that’s the guy who came into the bar today looking for me.”
    “Excuse me, hold on again,” Jack said into the phone. Then, covering the phone, he looked at Max and said again, “What did you say?”
    “Jack, I said he’s the guy …”
    Jack held up his hand to Max and said into the phone, “Lieutenant Malloy, my friend Max wants to talk to you.”
    Max shook her head “no” vigorously as Jack handed the phone out to her. He repeated the gesture, this time with more insistence.
    Max came over to Jack and as she took the phone, her towel began to loosen again. This time she had to catch it with her other hand. Jack grinned as she fought to maintain modesty and concentrate on the call.
    Once she was finished, she handed the phone back to Jack and worked on snugging up her towel. Jack, still smiling, listened to Lieutenant Malloy.
    “Yes, I understand. We’ll be careful. Thank you.” Then he hung up the phone.
    “I told you so,” Max said.
    Jack reached out and pulled her close. “Told me what?”
    “That the guy in the bar was creepy. He even killed Malcom I bet.”
    “Max …” said Jack through his grin, his mind obviously elsewhere.
    “No, it all makes sense.” She pulled away from him. He made a feeble attempt to hold on to her, but she twisted out of his grasp. For her, the escape was a success, but he still felt victorious because the towel had loosened even further.
    No. Jack, I’m serious. I have to get to work.”
    “I’m serious, too.”
    “Jack, you don’t want to talk,” she said, stating the obvious.
    “I do.” Then after a pause he added, “Later.”
    “You’re incorrigible,” she giggled and fled to get dressed.

CHAPTER 72
    AS SOON AS MALLOY HUNG UP from his call with Jack, he put on his coat and headed for his car. He and Alfred needed to talk. Moments later, he knocked on the door of Whitson’s Antiques. For the second time there was no answer, but he noted that his card was gone. “ Well, Alfred. I know you were here. I am going to find you, and you are going to answer some questions, ” he thought