“Where are you calling from, please?”
How do I know you’re a cop? she asked herself. And she answered, I don’t. “I’m calling from Tucson,” she told him.
“So.”
In her mind, she saw him hang up and turn to Roy, grinning that he’d obtained the information so easily. But he didn’t hang up.
“Please, what is your name?”
“Donna Hayes.”
“So. Address and telephone number?”
“What’s happened to Karen?”
“Please. Does your sister have relatives in the Los Angeles area?”
“Damn it!”
“So. Mrs. Hayes, I regret your sister met with death.”
“She and her husband, Robert Marston, met with death yesterday night. So. If there are relatives…”
“Our parents.” She was numb. “John and Irene Blix.”
“Blix. So, Mrs. Hayes, may I have please their address?”
She told him their address and phone number.
“So.”
“They were…murdered?”
“Murdered, yes.”
“I think I know who did it.”
“So?”
“What do you mean,
“So. You tell me, please.”
“It was my ex-husband. His name is Roy Hayes. He was released yesterday—I mean Saturday. Sometime Saturday.”
“So. Released from what?”
“San Quentin.”
“So.”
“He was in six years for raping our daughter.”
“So.”
“So he must’ve killed Karen to find out where I am.”
“Did she know, please?”
“Yes, she knew.”
“So. You are in danger. Describe your Roy Hayes, please.”
As she gave the man a description of her exhusband, she saw Sandy returning with a bag of potato chips. The bag was open. Sandy was pinching chips, one at a time, and pushing them sideways into her mouth.
“So. He drives?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what. He may have taken one of Karen’s cars. They’ve got a yellow Volkswagen and a white Pontiac Grand Prix.”
“So. The years?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at her daughter munching potato chips outside the booth. Turning away, Donna began to cry.
“Please, Mrs. Hayes. Are the cars new?”
“The VW, it’s a ’77. I don’t know about the other. A ’72,’73.”
“So. Very good, Mrs. Hayes. Very good. Now, if I may suggest, call the Tucson police, so, and inform them of your situation. Perhaps an escort to the airport.”
“So. Your parents are not to be alone during this time of tragedy.”
“No. You’re right. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“So.”
“Thank you, Mr. Woo.” She hung up. Sandy knocked on the plastic wall of the booth. Ignoring her, Donna searched her purse for coins. She found them, and made another call.
“Santa Monica Police Department,” said a woman. “Officer Bleary speaking. May I help you?”
“Do you have a Morris Woo?”
“Just a moment, please.”
Donna heard a telephone ring. It was picked up. “Homicide,” said the man. “Detective Harris.”
“Do you have a Morris Woo?”
“He’s not in just now. May
“I talked to a man on the phone.” She sniffed, and rubbed her nose. “He claimed to be a Sergeant Morris Woo. I just wanted to make sure he’s really a police officer.”
“So?” 2.
After a brief, tearful call to give her parents the news, she hung up and left the booth. “Let’s go back to the motel.”
“What’s wrong?” Sandy was crying. “Tell me!”
“Aunt Karen and Uncle Bob. They’ve been killed.”
“No they haven’t!”
“I just talked to a police officer, honey.”
“No!”
“Come on, let’s go back to the motel.”
Instead, the girl threw herself against Donna, hugging tightly as she cried.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN 1.
When Jud climbed out of his car, he saw Donna sitting on a front step of her cabin and he knew that something was wrong. He went toward her. She saw him, and stood. He took her in his arms, and she began to cry softly, quietly, her back trembling under his hand. Jud stroked the back of her head. Her cheek was wet against his face. He held her for a long time.
Then Donna looked up at him. She sniffed, smiled an apology, and rubbed her face with her sleeves. “Thanks,” she said.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, her lips pressed tightly shut. “Can we go for a walk?” she asked.
“I know a nice place. We’ll have to go in the car, though.”
“Before we go, I’d better get registered for tonight.”
“Good idea,” Jud said. “I’ll have to do that, too.”
Together, they went to the motel office. They registered. Then they returned to Jud’s car. “Where’s Sandy?” he asked.
“Sleeping.”
“She seems to do a lot of that, doesn’t she?”
“It’s a good way to escape.”
“Is she all right?”
“No. Probably not.”
They climbed into the Chrysler, and Jud drove out to Front Street.
“We saw your car in town this morning,” Donna said in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
