shops. Solvang was made for shopping.
Grace was sitting at a small table in the lobby with Peaches. That didn’t surprise Melody since they were both employees of Giganticorp, but they were talking softly with their heads close together. Melody hadn’t seen any previous signs of intimacy between them.
She went over to their table, prepared to make a comment about them plotting the overthrow of the world when Grace motioned for her to sit down.
“Peaches has information for you.”
Melody sat in the third chair and declined Peaches’ offer to get her a drink. He took a sip of what was evidently a glass of water with ice cubes before he spoke again. “That fellow Sterling that Drake found out about?”
She’d told Peaches about Sterling the day before and showed him his mug shot, hoping that he might spot him, without going into detail about why they were looking for him. It was obvious from the photo, however, that he’d been in trouble with the law. Melody nodded, waiting for him to continue.
Grace beat him, whispering conspiratorially. “Peaches found him.”
Melody had also told Grace about Sterling. Her heart gave a leap, and she turned back toward Peaches.
“You did?”
Peaches nodded. “He’s staying at a motel just down the street.”
“How do you know?”
“His car. I’ve seen the same car over and over again since we started the race. I drive along each day’s route, keeping track of where everybody is. This car has been doing the same thing. At first I thought it was just different cars that looked alike. After you talked to me, I wrote down the license plate information the next time I saw it. Today I saw the car on Route 1. It was easy to spot now that we’re out of the populated area. It had the same license.”
“How do you know it’s Sterling?”
“He’s brilliant.” Grace couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. “Just like a real detective.”
Peaches shrugged. “Grace actually found it. When we didn’t see the car in the lot here, we went to the nearby motels and checked all the cars. She spotted it.”
Grace continued the story. “Peaches picked the lock. I didn’t know he could do that sort of thing. I was scared that Sterling might suddenly show up, but he didn’t. Anyway, the car is registered to Dennis Sterling. So what happens now?”
“Now?” Melody hesitated. “First, thank you both very much. You’ve been a big help. Don’t tell anybody else about this. Don’t take any other action. I have to find Drake.”
“Here’s the car, right where they said it would be.”
Drake looked where Melody was pointing.
“What can we deduce from the fact that the car hasn’t moved?”
“Either he walked to a restaurant, or he hasn’t eaten dinner.”
Drake looked at his watch. It was 8:30. The sun had set. “Who in his right mind doesn’t eat dinner? Anyway, we know he was here a half hour ago.”
“Thanks to me.”
Melody had called the motel, pretending to be Sterling’s sister, and charmed the desk clerk into giving her his room number. When the clerk rang the room, she handed the phone to Drake. When Sterling answered, Drake said, “Sorry, wrong number,” and hung up.
The motel was a boxy, two-story affair with an outside stairway to the second floor where Sterling had a room. They climbed the stairs and quickly found his room. The window curtain was closed, but a light shone on the curtain from inside. They could hear muffled sounds coming from a television set.
Drake looked around to see if anyone was in sight. The motel parking lot was deserted. He knocked on the door.
In about ten seconds they heard a male voice. “Who is it?”
Sterling was being cautious. They had prepared for this. Melody imitated an American accent when she spoke.
“It’s the maid. I need to check your towels.”
A click warned them that the door was being opened. As it came ajar, Melody moved aside enough so that Drake could shove one of his size twelves through the gap. He smelled the acrid odor of cigarette smoke. Sterling had a cigarette dangling from his lips. He also had a look of surprise on his face and tried to shut the door, but Drake’s foot stopped it. Drake shoved the door all the way open and walked inside, pushing Sterling backward.
The bed was right behind Sterling, so Drake gave him an extra shove and sent him sprawling onto his back on top of the blanket. As he bounced, Sterling’s look changed to anger.
“What the hell is going on here? I’m going to call the police.”
“If you do, the FBI will be right behind them.”
That shut him up. The cigarette had come out of his mouth and was threatening to light the sheet on fire. Melody closed the door and moved to the other side of the bed. Blade’s description of Sterling had been accurate. He was a paunchy, middle-aged man, and Drake thought he looked more like an academic than a crook. His gray hair stuck out at odd angles and needed to be cut. He was dressed in boxer shorts and an undershirt. Drake saw some bones on a small table and smelled chicken from the local KFC.
“Were you planning to seduce the maid?”
Sterling didn’t answer. Melody looked as if she were suppressing a laugh. Drake moved close to the bed.
“You know who we are. You’ve been tracking us since the start of the race. Put out that cigarette.”
“Fred hired me to do that.”
Sterling ignored the cigarette. The sheet under it was changing to a brown color.
“Did Fred hire you to write threatening letters?”
Sterling didn’t answer. Melody had been looking around the room.
“There’s a typewriter on the table.”
Drake saw the gray, modernistic cover of an Olympia portable.
“Open it up.”
Melody lifted the cover revealing the sleek machine underneath. Drake turned back to Sterling, who had assumed a more dignified sitting position on the edge of the bed. He picked up the cigarette and stubbed it out in an ashtray on the bed table.
“Where’s the typewriter paper?”
“It’s in my suitcase.” Sterling indicated the piece of luggage sitting on the floor beside the bed.
“Give a sheet to Melody.”
Sterling slid along the bed and opened the suitcase. He reached his hand inside. Drake’s view was momentarily blocked, and he realized he’d made a mistake. Melody whistled four quick notes and dove across the bed. Drake was closer and got to Sterling first. He grabbed Sterling in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides, and threw him onto the bed for the second time.
Melody pulled the gun out of the suitcase.
Sterling rolled over, and, back on his back, stared from one of them to the other. “Fred didn’t tell me you two were professionals.”
Drake laughed sourly. “You didn’t have a need to know-until now.” He turned to Melody. “Type the same sentence in small letters and then in all caps. ‘The quick young fox jumps over the lazy brown dog.’”
Melody retrieved a piece of paper from the suitcase and set out to do that. Drake sat beside Sterling on the bed. Sterling apparently decided he was safer lying on his back. He didn’t try to get up. Drake looked down at him.
“Tell me about the betting operation.”
Sterling didn’t speak for a few seconds. The dialog of a TV movie droned in the background, punctuated by the click of typewriter keys.
Drake said, “Do I have to call my friend Slick? I bet he could get you to talk.”
