Run into Trouble

door within a few seconds of their knock. The harsh odor of cigarette smoke issued forth from the room.
    “Come in, come in. Thanks for coming so promptly.”
    Melody went into the room first and wrinkled her nose. “Your note implied that it was important.”
    “Yes. I’d like you to meet my new assistant for Running California, Charles Ortiz. Charles flew down from San Jose this afternoon. Charles, these are Melody Jefferson and Oliver Drake, but call him Drake.”
    They shook hands. Charles was a good looking young man, tall and thin. He had a high-wattage smile. But Drake was upset. This was what was so important that they had to do it unshowered? Meet Fred’s new assistant? An assistant brought in when Grace’s body was barely cold? He was tempted to say something sarcastic about the situation when Fred spoke again.
    “Charles will be helping me with the race, as I said, replacing Grace.” His voice actually broke a little when he mentioned Grace’s name. Nice touch.
    “Charles, go ahead and get yourself settled. We’ll eat dinner together, and I’ll bring you up to speed. I’ll see you in a bit.”
    Charles beamed his smile on Melody and Drake, said, “It was nice to meet you both,” and then left the room.”
    “Have a seat.” Fred waved his arm to include a chair and the bed. “I’m sorry I only have one chair. Can I get you something to drink?”
    Melody sat on the chair and sneezed, her nose irritated by the smoke. Drake sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his body straight. He didn’t want to get too comfortable. In response to Fred’s query about a drink, he pulled a container of Gatorade out of his pouch and sipped what remained of it. He didn’t intend to give in an inch to Fred.
    The seating arrangement didn’t leave Fred much choice if he wanted to face them both. He leaned against a small dresser, folded his arms, and tried not to look awkward.
    “I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing new about Grace. I’m in touch with the sheriff’s department. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”
    Drake decided not to comment because that might defuse the tension. He glanced at Melody. She was keeping a stone face, just as he was. Neither one of them was giving Fred any aid or comfort. They waited for him to continue.
    Fred usually gave the impression of being able to handle any situation, but at the moment he looked distinctly uncomfortable. He wiped his face with the large handkerchief he carried, even though it wasn’t that hot. His face was red. When he spoke again, he sounded as bad as he looked.
    “Look, I know what you two are thinking. You think that I killed Grace. As God is my witness, I swear to you that I didn’t do it. I may not always have behaved as well as I should have toward her, but I would never have killed her. I’m not that kind of person. I have my faults, but they don’t include murder.”
    He stopped speaking, obviously wanting to say more but apparently worried that anything he said might make matters worse.
    Drake was tempted to remain silent, but Melody spoke in a calm, unhurried voice, reciting facts. “Grace’s alarm went off at quarter to five yesterday morning. The last time that happened she went to your room and you told her to go to the parking lot and pick up a letter for Drake. How do we know that’s not what she did yesterday?”
    “Because…” Fred stopped talking, went into deep thinking mode, and then tried again. “First of all, you have no proof that I had anything to do with those letters. Grace probably told you that story to get herself off the hook. I suspect she wasn’t above feathering her own nest, if you know what I mean. You didn’t get another letter, did you?”
    Drake shook his head. “Grace wasn’t in any position to be delivering letters.”
    Fred didn’t want to be accused of murder, but he also didn’t want to get fired for participating in a betting ring. Drake wondered whether Casey had talked to him about that. He still had his job. Trouble seemed to bounce off him. But then, he did have a resemblance to a ball.
    Drake decided to try a different tack. “What’s your theory as to what happened to Grace?”
    Fred pondered that. “She obviously expected to meet somebody in the parking lot. That means somebody contacted her the day before, either by phone or in person. It would have had to be somebody she knew quite well. Knew and trusted. If it wasn’t me and it wasn’t one of you, it