Run into Trouble

an outside stairway to the second floor where Sterling had a room. They climbed the stairs and quickly found his room. The window curtain was closed, but a light shone on the curtain from inside. They could hear muffled sounds coming from a television set.
    Drake looked around to see if anyone was in sight. The motel parking lot was deserted. He knocked on the door.
    In about ten seconds they heard a male voice. “Who is it?”
    Sterling was being cautious. They had prepared for this. Melody imitated an American accent when she spoke.
    “It’s the maid. I need to check your towels.”
    A click warned them that the door was being opened. As it came ajar, Melody moved aside enough so that Drake could shove one of his size twelves through the gap. He smelled the acrid odor of cigarette smoke. Sterling had a cigarette dangling from his lips. He also had a look of surprise on his face and tried to shut the door, but Drake’s foot stopped it. Drake shoved the door all the way open and walked inside, pushing Sterling backward.
    The bed was right behind Sterling, so Drake gave him an extra shove and sent him sprawling onto his back on top of the blanket. As he bounced, Sterling’s look changed to anger.
    “What the hell is going on here? I’m going to call the police.”
    “If you do, the FBI will be right behind them.”
    That shut him up. The cigarette had come out of his mouth and was threatening to light the sheet on fire. Melody closed the door and moved to the other side of the bed. Blade’s description of Sterling had been accurate. He was a paunchy, middle-aged man, and Drake thought he looked more like an academic than a crook. His gray hair stuck out at odd angles and needed to be cut. He was dressed in boxer shorts and an undershirt. Drake saw some bones on a small table and smelled chicken from the local KFC.
    “Were you planning to seduce the maid?”
    Sterling didn’t answer. Melody looked as if she were suppressing a laugh. Drake moved close to the bed.
    “You know who we are. You’ve been tracking us since the start of the race. Put out that cigarette.”
    “Fred hired me to do that.”
    Sterling ignored the cigarette. The sheet under it was changing to a brown color.
    “Did Fred hire you to write threatening letters?”
    Sterling didn’t answer. Melody had been looking around the room.
    “There’s a typewriter on the table.”
    Drake saw the gray, modernistic cover of an Olympia portable.
    “Open it up.”
    Melody lifted the cover revealing the sleek machine underneath. Drake turned back to Sterling, who had assumed a more dignified sitting position on the edge of the bed. He picked up the cigarette and stubbed it out in an ashtray on the bed table.
    “Where’s the typewriter paper?”
    “It’s in my suitcase.” Sterling indicated the piece of luggage sitting on the floor beside the bed.
    “Give a sheet to Melody.”
    Sterling slid along the bed and opened the suitcase. He reached his hand inside. Drake’s view was momentarily blocked, and he realized he’d made a mistake. Melody whistled four quick notes and dove across the bed. Drake was closer and got to Sterling first. He grabbed Sterling in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides, and threw him onto the bed for the second time.
    Melody pulled the gun out of the suitcase.
    Sterling rolled over, and, back on his back, stared from one of them to the other. “Fred didn’t tell me you two were professionals.”
    Drake laughed sourly. “You didn’t have a need to know—until now.” He turned to Melody. “Type the same sentence in small letters and then in all caps. ‘The quick young fox jumps over the lazy brown dog.’”
    Melody retrieved a piece of paper from the suitcase and set out to do that. Drake sat beside Sterling on the bed. Sterling apparently decided he was safer lying on his back. He didn’t try to get up. Drake looked down at him.
    “Tell me about the betting operation.”
    Sterling didn’t speak for a few seconds. The dialog of a TV movie droned in the background, punctuated by the click of typewriter keys.
    Drake said, “Do I have to call my friend Slick? I bet he could get you to talk.”
    Sterling appeared to be examining his alternatives. He came to a decision. “It’s run in Las Vegas.”
    “Did you contact them or did they contact you?”
    “I contacted them. It was after the race started. I was already working for Fred, but just to see that the runners obeyed the rules.”
    “So you got the