U Is for Undertow

coffee and sat down. “I have to get out of the house before the Amazing Mona returns with her merry band in tow. She sucks all the oxygen out of the air and I can’t take it anymore. I thought we could get a place together near UCST or close to City College, whichever you’d prefer.”
    Walker said, “I’m up for that. How do we pay the rent, rob a bank?”
    “I’ve been thinking we’d borrow Rain—fun and games for a day or two—and then we exchange her for a bag of cash. Easy does it. No rough stuff and nothing scary. We get a kitten and she can play with it. She gets to drink pink lemonade laced with tranquilizers. Mona has a big stash, fifty-two by my count. She won’t miss a few. You have folks, so we keep the little girl at my place while everyone’s gone. I have a new hot-water heater going in and we can use the box to make a house for her. As long as she naps, she won’t make a fuss, which should give us time to negotiate.”
    Walker was attentive. “I’m with you so far.”
    “The only snag is the threesome in the yellow school bus. We have to find a way to get them out of there.”
    Walker’s smile was slow. “Funny you should mention that. I’ve been mulling the selfsame subject . . . on your behalf, of course. You may be in the woman’s thrall, but she’s bad news. Consider yourself lucky if you haven’t picked up crabs or a dose of the clap. I’m not passing judgment, Jon. I’m stating a fact. You want her gone, I can make it happen, the other two as well, unless I greatly miscalculate. Say the word and it’ll be done by noon today.”
    “How?”
    “First, I call the draft board and tell them where to find our friend, Greg. Then I stop by the bus and drop a hint to him. I figure fifteen minutes max we’ll see them tearing out of there. Your idea about Rain we can implement once we get the kinks worked out. What do you think?”
    “Far out. You’re a genius. I take back every bad word I ever said about you. No offense.”
    “None taken.”

32

    Thursday, April 21, 1988

    I arrived at the office at 8:00, hoping to get a jump on the day. As I unlocked the door I could smell scorched coffee and realized with a flash of annoyance that I’d forgotten to turn off the coffeemaker when I’d left Wednesday afternoon. I scurried down the corridor to the kitchenette and flipped off the machine. I removed the carafe from the unit and set it on a folded towel to cool. The glass bottom had a ring of black sludge that would probably never come off.
    I hauled out my trusty Smith-Corona, popped off the hard cover, and placed it on my desk. I spread out my index cards and typed a report for Sutton’s file, covering what I’d done to this point. I included Henry’s speculation about the sequence of events, which added a little ray of sunshine. When I finished I put the report in his file. I put a rubber band around the cards, dropped them in the same file, and closed the drawer. I’d gone as far as I could go and I needed a break. Over the weekend I’d reshuffle the facts and hope to spot something I’d missed. In the meantime, it was a perfect April morning, clear and sunny, still cool but with the promise of a warming trend. Surely, that boded well.
    I stashed the typewriter under the desk again and caught sight of the light on my answering machine, which was blinking merrily. I swiveled once in my chair and pressed Play.
    I could hear background noise.
    “Kinsey? This is Michael Sutton. I gotta talk to you as soon as possible. After I left you, I went to get Madaline at her AA meeting and saw the same guy I spotted at the dig. He has two black eyes and his face is banged up, which is why I noticed him in the first place. We followed him to that Montebello Bank and Trust at Monarch and Old Coast Road. I’m calling from the gas station across the street. We’ve waited half an hour and he hasn’t come out so maybe he works there. Thing is, Madaline’s antsy to get home so I was hoping you could spell me while I run her back to the house. I guess not, huh. Anyway, when you get the message, could you call? If I’m not home, I’ll be here unless the bank closes in the meantime. Gotta go. Thanks.”
    I wasn’t sure when the call had come in because the date and time function on my answering machine has been horsed up for months, claiming it’s perpetually noon on January 1. He must have called sometime after I’d talked to Joanne Fitzhugh because I left the same time she did