Sue Grafton – “F” Is for Fugitive

At 2:47 A.M. the phone rang and I jumped a foot, unaware that I’d been asleep. The jolt of adrenaline made my heart clatter in my chest like a slug of white-hot metal on a stone floor. Fear and the shrilling of the phone became one sensation. I snatched up the receiver. “Yes?”

His tone was low. “It’s me.”

Even in the dark, I squinted. “Bailey?”

“You alone?”

“Of course. Where are you?”

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t have much time. Bert knows it’s me, and I don’t want to take a chance on his calling the cops.”

“Forget it. They can’t get a trace on a call that fast,” I said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. How are things there, pretty bad?”

I gave him a brief rundown on what was happening. I didn’t dwell on Royce’s collapse because I didn’t want to worry him, but I did mention that someone had broken in. “Was it you, by any chance?”

“Me? No way. This is the first time I’ve been out,” he said. “I heard about Tap. God, poor bastard.”

“I know,” I said. “What a chump he was. It looks like he didn’t even have a real load in the gun. He was firing rock salt.”

“Salt?”

“You got it. I checked the residue at the scene. I don’t know if he realized what it was or not.”

“Jesus,” Bailey breathed. “He never had a chance.”

“Why did you take off? That was the worst move you could possibly have made. They probably have every cop in the state out. Were you the one who set it up?”

“Of course not! I didn’t even know who it was at first, and then all I could think to do was get the hell out of there.”

“Who could have put him up to it?”

“I have no idea, but somebody did.”

“Joleen might know. I’ll try to see her tomorrow. In the meantime, you can’t stay on the loose. They’ve got you listed as armed and dangerous.”

“I figured as much, but what am I supposed to do? The minute I show up, they’re going to blow me off the face of the earth, same as Tap.”

“Call Jack Clemson. Turn yourselt in to him.

“How do we know it wasn’t him set me up?”

“Your own attorney?”

“Hey, if I die, it’s over. Everybody’s off the hook. Anyway, I gotta get myself out of here before—” I heard an intake of breath. “Hang on.” There was a silence. His end of the conversation had reverberated with the hollow echo of a phone booth. Now I heard the metal bi-fold door squeak. “All right, I’m back. I thought there was somebody out there, but it doesn’t look like it.”

“Listen, Bailey. I’m doing what I can, but I could use some help.”

“Like what?”

“Like what happened to the money from the bank job you did?”

A pause. “Who told you about that?”

“Tap, last night at the pool hall. He says you left it with Jean, but then the last he heard, the whole forty-two thousand had disappeared. Could she have taken it herself?”

“Not Jean. She wouldn’t have done that to us.”

“What was the story she told you? She must have said something.”

“All I know is she went to lay hands on it and the whole stash was gone.”

“Or so she said,” I put in.

I could hear him shrug. “Even if she did take it, what was I going to do, turn her in to the cops?”

“Did she tell you where she’d hidden it?”

“No, but I got the impression it was somewhere up there at the hot springs where she worked.”

“Oh, great. Place is huge. Who else knew about the money?”

“That’s all as far as I know.” He hissed into the phone.

I could feel my heart do a flip-flop. “What’s wrong?”

Silence.

“Bailey?”

He severed the connection.

Almost immediately, the phone rang again. A sheriff’s deputy advised me to remain where I was until a car could pick me up. Good old Bert. I spent the rest of the night at the county sheriff’s department, being variously questioned, accused, abused, and threatened-quite politely, of course -by a homicide detective named Sal Quintana, who wasn’t in a much better mood than I was at that point. A second detective stood against the wall, using a broken wooden match to clean the plaque off his teeth. I was certain his dental hygien-ist would applaud his efforts when he saw her next.

Quintana was in his mid-forties, with closely cropped black hair, big, dark eyes, and a face remarkable for its impassivity. Dwight Shales’s face had the same deadpan look: obdurate, unresponsive, aggressively blank. This man was probably twenty pounds overweight, with a shirt size that hadn’t quite conceded the point. The extra weight across his back had pulled his sleeves up an inch, and where his wrist extended, there were already a few gray hairs mingled with the black. He had good teeth, and my assessment of his looks might have been upgraded if he’d smiled. No such luck. He seemed to be operating on the theory that Bailey Fowler and I were in cahoots.

“You’re crazy,” I said. “I only saw the man once.”

“When was that?”

“You know when. Yesterday. I signed in at the desk. You’ve got it right there in front of you.”

His gaze flicked down to the papers on the table. “You want to tell us what you talked about?”

“He was depressed. I tried to cheer him up.”

“You fond of Mr. Fowler?”

“That’s none of your business. I’m not under arrest and I’m not charged with anything, right?”

“That’s right,” he said patiently. “We’re just trying to understand the situation here. I’m sure you can appreciate that, given the circumstances.” He paused while the second detective leaned down and murmured something indistinct. Quintana looked back at me. “I believe you were present in the courtroom when Mr. Fowler escaped. You have any contact with him at the time?”

“None. Zippity-doo-dah.”

He didn’t react at all to my flippancy. “When you spoke with Mr. Fowler on the telephone, did he give you any indication where he was calling from?”

“No.”

“Was it your impression he was still in the area?”

“I don’t know. I guess so. He could have called from anyplace.”

“What’d he tell you about the escape?”

“Nothing. We didn’t talk about that.”

“You have any idea who picked him up?”

“I don’t even know which direction he went. I was still in the courtroom when the shots were fired.”

“What about Tap Granger?”

“I don’t know anything about Tap.”

“You spent enough time with him the night before,” he remarked.

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t that informative.”

“You know who might have paid him off?”

“Somebody paid Tap off?” I said.

Quintana was unresponsive, simply waiting me out.

“He didn’t even mention the arraignment. I was astonished when I turned around and realized it was him.”

“Let’s get back to Bailey’s phone call,” Quintana said.

“I’ve covered most of it.”

“What else was said?”

“I told him to get in touch with Jack Clemson and turn himself in.”

“He say he’d do that?”

“Uh, no. He didn’t seem real thrilled at that, but maybe he’ll have a change of heart.”

“We’re having a hard time believing he could disappear without a trace. He almost had to have assistance.”

“Well, he didn’t get it from me.”

“You think somebody’s hiding him?”

“How do I know?”

“Why’d he get in touch?”

“I have no idea. The call was interrupted before he got to that.”

We continued in this monotonous, circular fashion till I thought I’d drop. Quintana was unfailingly civil, unsmiling, persistent-nay, relentless -and finally agreed to let me go back to the motel only after he’d milked me of all conceivable information. “Miss Millhone, let me make one thing crystal clear,” he said, shifting in his seat. “This is a police matter. We want Bailey Fowler back in custody. I better not find out you’re helping him in any way. Do you understand that?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

He gave me a look that said he doubted my sincerity.

I staggered back to bed at 6:22 A.M. and slept until nine, which was when Ann tapped on my door and got me up.

14

Ann was on her way to the hospital to see her father. The house cleaner, Maxine, had been delayed, but swore she’d be there by ten. In the meantime, Ann felt Ori was too anxious to be left alone. “I’ve called Mrs. Maude. She and Mrs. . Emma agreed to sit with Mother, but neither one can make it till this afternoon. I feel like a dog asking you to fill in …”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right down.”

“Thanks.”

I still had my clothes on, so I didn’t have to waste any time getting dressed. I brushed my teeth and threw some water on my face, ignoring the dark smudges around my eyes. There was a time in my youth when staying up all night had felt adventuresome. Dawn then was exhilarating and there didn’t seem to be any end to the physical resources at my command. Now the lack of sleep was creating an odd high that foreshadowed a stomach-churning descent. I was still on the

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