Q Is for Quarry

sound tired."
    "I've felt perkier," he said. "Stacey dropped me off half an hour ago. He's taking a run to the Sheriffs Department to talk to Mandel. On his way back, he plans to stop by his apartment and pick up his things. I guess we'll think about dinner after that."
    "Is he staying with you?"
    "Temporarily. You know the lease is up on his place and he has to be out by the end of the month. He assumed he'd be six feet underground by then, but I guess the gods fooled him. I asked if he wanted to stay here until he finds some place else. I can use the company."
    "Nice. That should benefit both of you if you can keep from quarreling."
    Dolan had the good grace to laugh. "We don't quarrel. We disagree," he said. "What about things on your end? We felt bad you got stuck holding the proverbial bag. Did you manage to amuse yourself?"
    "Funny you should ask." And then I told him about Pudgie's death, which we discussed in detail. In the midst of dissecting events, Dolan said, "Hang on a second. Stacey just came in. I want to tell him about this."
    He put his hand across the mouthpiece to spare me the replay while he brought Stacey up to speed. Even in its muffled form, I could hear Stacey's expletives.
    He took the handset from Dolan. "That's the last time I'm leaving you. What the hell's going on?"
    "You know as much as I do."
    He had his own set of questions about Pudgie, and then we chatted about Frankie. He said they'd do what they could to track him down and see if he could account for his whereabouts from Friday morning on. "Good news on this end. Charisse's dental chart is a match for Jane Doe's, so at least we nailed that down. Forensics is just about willing to swear the hairs we recovered belong to her as well. Now all we need is a match on that second set of prints and we may be in business. Have the McPhees gone in?"
    "I assume so. I'll check tomorrow morning to make sure," I said. "When are you planning to drive back?"
    "Soon as I can. I'll hit the road the minute things here are under control."
    I heard Dolan rumbling in the background.
    Stacey said, "Oh, right. Dolan left his gun in the trunk of his car. He wants to know if it's still there."
    "I haven't had occasion to open the trunk, but I'll look when I can. What's he want me to do with it?"
    Dolan said something to Stacey. "He says just make sure you get it back to him as soon as you get home."
    "Of course." Dolan said something else to him that I couldn't make out. Stacey said, "Hang on a minute." And to Dolan, "Damn it! Would you quit talking to me when I'm on the phone with her?"
    More mumbling from Dolan. "Horsepucky. You will not." Stacey returned. "Guy's driving me nuts. He says he'll do fine on his own, but he's full of shit. Minute my back is turned, he'll run out and buy himself a pack of cigarettes. They oughta lock him up."
    I heard a door slam in the background. "Same to you, bub!" Stacey yelled. "Anyway, I'll call and let you know when I'm hitting the road. You can talk to the desk clerk and reserve a room."
    After we hung up, I put a call through to Henry. His machine picked up. I left a message, telling him I missed him and that I'd call back. I read for another hour or so and then ordered a pizza. I didn't have the heart to go out and eat a proper meal by myself. Ordinarily, I like eating in a restaurant alone. But with Stacey and Dolan gone, the idea seemed alien. Pudgie's murder had left me spooked. It was one thing dealing with a murder that had happened eighteen years before. Whatever the motivation, time had provided a lengthy cooling-off period. Life had gone on. The killer had managed to strike once and get away with it. I'd assumed there wouldn't be a reason to kill again, but Pudgie's death made it obvious how wrong I was. The stakes were still high. In the intervening years, someone had enjoyed a life that was built on a lie. Now we'd come along threatening the status quo.
    I ate my supper and tossed the box in the trash. I watched a couple of television shows with annoying laugh tracks. At 9:00, I decided I might as well work. Keeping a systematic set of notes has its soothing side effects. I sat down at the desk and opened the drawer.
    Things had been moved.
    I stared and I then looked around the room, wondering if someone had come in. Not if: I wondered who'd come in and handled the contents of the drawer. The last time I'd taken notes must have been Saturday afternoon. Stacey and I had been to Creosote, stopping off at the