“You’ve moved into ninth place. A few more attacks and you’ll be in first place.”
Drake stared at Fred.
“Sorry. Bad joke. Look, if there’s anything I can do… I’ve tried to get you the best medical care, but I can’t run for you.”
“I just wanted you to know.”
Drake tried to look into Fred’s brain, but he was met with a bland expression that shielded his thoughts.
Fred spoke. “We’re going to step up the pace a little. Each day’s distance is going to be closer to a marathon. We don’t want to drag this out too long. Everybody’s reasonably healthy. I think you can handle it.”
“It’s not a problem for me.”
Drake wondered whether Fred had been keeping the distances down to favor him, just as Casey had ordained that the first day’s run wouldn’t count.
CHAPTER 17
Today’s run goes from Oxnard Beach Park to Carpenteria State Beach in Santa Barbara County. Start by heading north on Harbor Boulevard. However, beginning today we’re going to let you decide when to run on the beach and when to run on a road. In some places along this stretch it may even be advantageous to run on the railroad tracks, but be careful of the spaces between the ties if you do this. Always watch for trains. The additional freedom should give more weight to individual tactics and make the race more competitive. Maybe we won’t see so much running by committee.
The handwritten sheets that Fred distributed to the runners each morning before they started bore the unmistakable flourishes of his big round hand. Whatever else you could say about Fred, he had beautiful handwriting. In addition, he wrote in distinctive green ink with a fountain pen, although you couldn’t tell that from the black and white copies that were usually produced at the motel where they stayed.
The runners were gathering in front of the motel in the early morning fog, a magician that made the beach disappear, waiting for Peaches to produce the bus that would take them to today’s starting point. Most wore sweatshirts over their running clothes that they would leave on the bus. They stretched and moved around, trying to get warm and loose. The other runners, including Melody, could stretch their bodies in ways that Drake could never hope to emulate. He was just trying to relax his back muscles so he wouldn’t have spasms.
Since it was only a few blocks to their starting point, they could easily have walked the distance, but Fred insisted that everybody be treated the same so they would get a fair start. Fred was all about fairness, thought Drake. Or was he? Wasn’t this change designed to help Melody and him? Give them an opportunity to break away from the pack by taking a different route? Of course it could backfire if they chose the wrong route. Drake shared the sheet with Melody, wanting to get her reaction.
“I’ll bet Tom and Jerry are in a funk about this.”
Drake was surprised. Only Tom and Jerry? He had been thinking too narrowly. It was true. The new rules were opening the door to all the other teams. Tom and Jerry could no longer guarantee their leading margin by staying with the pack, if the pack split up and went several different ways. The race could get more exciting.
“Isn’t that Peaches?”
“Where?”
Drake looked past several of the runners who were ahead of them and over to the side of the road where Melody was directing her gaze. They were running on the road because it was faster than running on the beach. The beach along here got very narrow at times with houses and rocks blocking the way. These beach houses, like the ones at Malibu, were vulnerable to any kind of an attack from the sea. That was crazy thinking. Who was going to attack beach houses? And yet it had happened. It almost seemed like a dream. A beach setting was too idyllic. Maybe it hadn’t happened at all.
Drake finally picked out Peaches. Seeing him here was not unexpected, because he and Grace were often stationed along the way to make sure that everyone was following the correct route. Routes were no longer designated, apparently, but the two still were needed to supply water at places all the runners were bound to pass and check to see that they were all right. Peaches appeared to be in his own world. He wasn’t even looking at the runners. He had his jacket off and was moving in circles. Drake was amazed at how gracefully he moved.
“What the hell is he doing?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but he looks like he’s dancing.”
“Maybe he’s practicing a new form of karate.”
“No, look. He’s got an invisible partner. His right arm is around her waist. His left hand is holding her hand. He’s waltzing. One two three, one two three…”
The other runners gawked at Peaches as they gulped down cups of water he had set out. A couple of them were brave enough to make joking comments as they ran by, comparing him to Fred Astaire. He ignored them. The taciturn man who always looked somewhat ominous had a radiant glow on his face as he whirled around to music that only he could hear.
Drake and Melody grabbed the paper cups without stopping, and spilled water dripped off their chins as they drank. Melody was mesmerized by Peaches. “He’s a lot better than some of the blokes who used to step on my feet.”
“You used to dance?”
“When I was young. Before I met you.”
“I never knew that.”
“Pardon me, but you never struck me as being the dancing type.”
That was true. He had gone to dances when he was in school because that’s where the girls were, but he had never been any great shakes on the dance floor.
Melody was musing out loud as they started running again.
“That’s a new side of Peaches we haven’t seen before. I’m going to try to get to know him better. He might be useful to us in trying to figure out what’s going on here.”
“Be careful. You don’t know anything about him. He might be a…”
“A harasser? Grace says that he’s always treated her with respect. You’re thinking of Fred. I let you deal with Fred. By the way, he didn’t admit to anything, did he? We still don’t know what his connection is with whoever is sending the notes.”
Peaches was a sealed box to Drake. Although he had been alone with him several times going to appointments with a chiropractor, the man hadn’t opened up to him at all.
“If you’re going to talk to Peaches, I’m going to be with you.”
“You’ve talked to Peaches. He hasn’t told you anything. Now it’s my turn.”
“We may have hit the jackpot here.”
Drake was surprised at the animation in Blade’s voice. He shifted the motel room phone to his left ear so that he could take notes with his right hand. He no longer bothered to find a phone booth when he called Blade. “How?”
“One of the guys whose names you gave me has his prints on file with the FBI. They match the prints on the letter.”
“I didn’t know you talked to the FBI.”
“We do when we have to. Your Malibu incident lent a little impetus to that. His name is Dennis Sterling, aka
