“What is it?”
“Oh, come on. It’s the card you sent Shana Timberlake.”
He shook his head. “I never saw that in my life.”
“Excuse my language, Doctor, but that’s a fuckin’ fib. You wrote her last week when you were down in L.A. You must have heard about Bailey’s arrest and thought the two of you better have a chat. What’s the deal? Can’t you just pick the phone up and call your lady love?”
“Please lower your voice.”
When we reached the parking lot, he glanced back at the building. I followed his gaze, catching sight of his wife peering at us through the office window. She realized we’d spotted her, and withdrew. Dr. Dunne opened my car door on the driver’s side as though to usher me in. His manner was uneasy and his eyes kept shifting to the building behind us. I pictured Mrs. Dunne belly-crawling through the bushes with a knife between her teeth.
“My wife is a paranoid schizophrenic. She’s violent.”
“I’ll say! So what?”
“She handles all the books. If she found I’d put a call through to Shana, she’d … well, I don’t know what she’d do.”
“I’ll bet I could guess. Maybe she was jealous of Jean and wrapped a belt around her neck.”
His ruddy complexion glowed pinker from within, as if a bulb had gone on behind his face. Perspiration was collecting in the crevices in his neck. “She would never do such a thing,” he said. He took a handkerchief from his hip pocket and mopped at his forehead.
“What would she do?”
“This has nothing to do with her.”
“What’s the story, then? Where’s Shana?”
“She was supposed to meet me here Wednesday night. I was late getting up there. She never showed, or she might have left early. I haven’t spoken to her, so I don’t know where she was.”
“You’d meet her here on the premises?” My voice fairly squeaked with incredulity.
Elva takes a sleeping pill every night. She never wakes.”
“As far as you know,” I said tartly. “I take it your affair is ongoing?”
I saw him hesitate. “It’s not an affair in that sense of the word. We haven’t been sexual with one another for years. Shana’s a dear woman. I enjoy her company. I’m entitled to friendship.”
“Oh, right. I conduct all my friendships in the dead of night.”
“Please. I’m begging you. Get in your car and go. Elva will want to know every word we said.”
“Tell her we were talking about Ori Fowler’s death.”
He stared at me. “Ori’s dead?”
“Oh yeah. This morning she got what was probably a penicillin shot. She went to heaven right after that.”
For a moment he didn’t say a word. The look on his face was more convincing than denial. “What was the circumstance?”
I did a quick verbal sketch of the morning’s events. “Does Elva have access to penicillin?”
He turned abruptly and started walking toward the building.
I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “You were Jean Timberlake’s father, weren’t you?”
“It’s over. She’s dead. You’ll never prove it anyway, so what difference does it make?”
“My question exactly. Did she know who you were when she asked for the abortion?”
He shook his head, walking on.
I scooted after him. “You didn’t tell her the truth? You didn’t even offer to help?”
“I don’t want to discuss it,” he said, biting off the words.
“But you do know who she was involved with, I bet.”
“Why ruin a promising career?” he said.
“Some guy’s career meant more than her life?”
He reached the door to the reception area and went in. I debated going in, but I couldn’t see any purpose in pursuing the point. I needed cor-roboration first. I reversed myself, heading for my car. I glanced back over my shoulder. Mrs. Dunne was standing at the window again, her expression inscrutable. I wasn’t sure if my voice had carried that far or not, and I didn’t care. Let them sort it out. I wasn’t worried about him. He knew how to look out for himself. It was Shana I was worried about. If she hadn’t showed up at all Wednesday night, then where had her car keys come from? And if she’d arrived for their meeting as planned, then where the hell had she gone?
I drove back to the motel. Bert was handling the desk. Mrs. Emma and Mrs. Maude had taken charge of the Fowlers’ living room. They stood side by side, plump women in their seventies, one in purple jersey, the other in mauve. Ann was resting, they said. They’d taken the liberty of having Ori’s bed moved into Royce’s room. The living room had been restored to some former arrangement of furniture and geegaws. It seemed enormous somehow alter the overbearing presence ot the hospital bed with its cranks and side rails. The bed table was gone. The tray of medications had been removed by the police. Nothing could have eradicated Ori more effectively.
Maxine had arrived, and she seemed faintly mystified to be there with no responsibility to clean. “I’ll make some tea,” she murmured the minute I arrived.
We were all using our library voices. I found myself mimicking that tone they all used-saccharine, solicitous, patently maternal. Actually, I was discovering that it was useful for situations like this. Mrs. Maude was all set to bring me a little lunch, but I demurred.
“I have something to take care of. I may be gone for a while.”
“Well now, that’s just fine,” Mrs. Emma said, patting my hand. “We’ll take care of everything here, so don’t you worry about that. And if you want a bite to eat later, we can fix you a tray.”
“Thanks.” We all exchanged sorrowful smiles of a long-suffering sort. Theirs were more sincere than mine, but I must say Ori’s death had generated a nagging sensation down in my gut. Why had she been murdered? What could she possibly have known? On the face of it, I couldn’t see how her death bore any relation to Jean Timber lake’s.
Bert appeared in the doorway and gave me a look. “Call for you,” he said. “It’s that lawyer fella.”
“Clemson? Great. I’ll take it in the kitchen. Can I pick it up in there?”
“Suit yourself, he said.
I moved into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Hi, it’s me,” I said. “Hang on.” I paused decently and then said, “Thanks, Bert. I’ve got it.” There was a little click. “Go ahead.”
“What was that about?” Clemson asked.
“It’s not worth going into. How are things with you?”
“Interesting development. I just got a call from June Haws at the church. You never heard this from me, but apparently she’s been hiding Bailey all along.”
“He’s with her?”
“That’s the problem. He was. The sheriff’s department is starting a house-to-house search. I guess a deputy came to her door and next thing she knew, Bailey’d bolted. She doesn’t know where he’s gone. Have you heard from him?”
“Not a word.”
“Well, stick around. If he gets in touch, you gotta talk him into turning himself in. With word out on his mom’s death, the town’s going nuts. I’m worried about his safety.”
“Me too, but what am I supposed to do?”
“Just stay by the phone. This is critical.”
“Jack, I can’t. Shana Timberlake’s missing. I saw her car keys at the hot springs and I’m going up after dark to take a look.”
“Screw Shana. This is more important.”
“Then why don’t you come over here yourself? If Bailey calls, you can talk to him.”
“Bailey doesn’t trust me!”
“Why is that, Jack?”
“Damned if I know. If he heard me on the phone, he’d be gone again in a flash, convinced the line was tapped. June says aside from her, you’re the only one he trusts.”
“Look, this may not take me long. I’ll be back as soon as possible and touch base with you then. If I hear from Bailey, I’ll talk him in. I swear.”
“He has to surrender.”
“Jack, I know that!” I felt a flash of irritation as I hung up the phone. Why was the guy suddenly on my case? I knew the kind of jeopardy Bailey Fowler was in.
I turned to leave the kitchen. Bert was standing in the hall. He moved into the kitchen as if he’d been in motion all along. “Miss Ann wants some water,” he mumbled.
Bullshit, I thought. You little snoop.
I went upstairs to my room and changed into my jogging shoes. I tucked my penlight, my picks, and my room key in my jeans pocket. I wasn’t sure I’d need the picks, but I thought I should be prepared. I debated about my little .32. When I bought the Davis, I got myself a custom-fitted Alessi shoulder rig, adjusted so that the holster and weapon would lie snugly against my left side, just under the breast. I yanked my shirt off and strapped the rig into place. I pulled a black turtleneck over it and studied the effect in the bathroom mirror. It would do.