Spencerville

now?”
    “Near
Columbus,
Ohio. I’m driving in from Washington. There was bad weather, and I couldn’t get a flight back. When Annie gets there, tell her I’m on my way and I apologize. Also, tell her
not
to call my house. My phone may also be tapped.”
    “Your phone?”
    “Yes, my phone. By her husband.”
    “He’s a bastard. I hate him.”
    “Right.” Keith went through it one more time, then said, “See you later.” He hung up and got back in the car. He said to Stewart, who was now sitting in the front passenger seat, “You want to call home? I’ll give you my credit card.”
    “No, thanks. I’ll call from Ohio.”
    “We’re
in
Ohio.”
    “Oh… I’ll call later. It’s too early.”
    Keith started the car and got on the road, taking the circular highway north around Columbus, then headed north and west on Route 23.
    It was a sunny day, cool, with scattered white clouds. There was some early Saturday traffic, mostly campers and recreational vehicles, heading up to the lakes, probably, or to Michigan.
    Stewart seemed fascinated with the countryside. “It’s all farms. What’s that stuff? Corn?”
    “Yes, corn.”
    “Who eats all that corn? I eat corn maybe once a month. You eat a lot of corn out here?”
    Rather than explain about field corn and sweet corn, cattle feed and people food, Keith said, “We eat corn three times a day.”
    Stewart was wide awake now and enjoying the scenery. He pointed out barns, cattle, and pigs to Keith.
    They made good time, but not great time, and it was almost eleven A.M. when they crossed into Spencer County.
    Keith slowed down and took it easy the last fifteen miles. He saw no county or municipal police on the roads, and they wouldn’t recognize this car anyway, but he didn’t want a problem this close to the end.
    Keith pulled up to his driveway and took a few pieces of mail out of his box, flipping through it as he pulled up to the house. It was mostly junk mail, but there was also a summons for him to appear in Spencerville traffic court for a variety of parking violations that he didn’t recall getting tickets for. Petty harassment, but he realized he could be pulled over by the police anytime if he didn’t answer the summons by the appearance date, which was Monday. He’d be long gone by then.
    Stewart asked, “You live here?”
    “I do.” Keith stopped near the front porch and got out. Stewart got out, too, and was busy looking around, so Keith got his bag from the trunk and said, “Come on in and wash up.”
    They entered the house through the front door, and Keith led Stewart up the stairs. “Bathroom’s there. Meet you downstairs. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator.”
    Keith went into his room and threw his garment bag on the bed, then took the packed suitcase out of the wardrobe cabinet. His overnight bag was always packed with toiletries and underwear, a habit from two decades of unplanned travel. His briefcase was already packed with his important papers, and he slipped his passport in his suit jacket pocket.
    The bathroom was empty now, and Keith cleaned up, then took his things downstairs.
    Stewart was in the kitchen having a glass of orange juice, and Keith poured the last of the juice into a glass for himself. He said, “Sorry I have nothing to offer you for breakfast, Stewart.”
    “Oh, that’s okay.” He looked around. “This is a real old house.”
    “About a hundred years old. Can you find your way back to Washington?”
    “I think so.”
    Keith took four hundred dollars out of his wallet and said, “This is for gas, food, and tolls. Stop at a farm and get some fresh produce. Mrs. Arkell will love it.”
    “Thank you, Colonel. I had a good time.”
    “I knew you would. We’ll do it again sometime.”
    “Can I use your phone, sir?”
    “No, it’s tapped. No one knows I’m here. Call from the road.”
    Stewart had been around long enough not to be surprised or to ask questions. Keith steered Stewart toward the door, and Stewart carried the suitcase out to the porch. Keith gave Stewart directions to Route 23 and said, “The cops in this county are tough. Take it easy.”
    “Yes, sir. Hope I see you in Washington again.”
    “You never know.” They shook hands, and Stewart left.
    Keith ran through a mental checklist, then closed and locked the front door, and carried his luggage out back to the Blazer.
    There was a note on the front seat, and Keith read the printed message:
You was supposed to