situation when Fred spoke again.
“Charles will be helping me with the race, as I said, replacing Grace.” His voice actually broke a little when he mentioned Grace’s name. Nice touch.
“Charles, go ahead and get yourself settled. We’ll eat dinner together, and I’ll bring you up to speed. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Charles beamed his smile on Melody and Drake, said, “It was nice to meet you both,” and then left the room.”
“Have a seat.” Fred waved his arm to include a chair and the bed. “I’m sorry I only have one chair. Can I get you something to drink?”
Melody sat on the chair and sneezed, her nose irritated by the smoke. Drake sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his body straight. He didn’t want to get too comfortable. In response to Fred’s query about a drink, he pulled a container of Gatorade out of his pouch and sipped what remained of it. He didn’t intend to give in an inch to Fred.
The seating arrangement didn’t leave Fred much choice if he wanted to face them both. He leaned against a small dresser, folded his arms, and tried not to look awkward.
“I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing new about Grace. I’m in touch with the sheriff’s department. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”
Drake decided not to comment because that might defuse the tension. He glanced at Melody. She was keeping a stone face, just as he was. Neither one of them was giving Fred any aid or comfort. They waited for him to continue.
Fred usually gave the impression of being able to handle any situation, but at the moment he looked distinctly uncomfortable. He wiped his face with the large handkerchief he carried, even though it wasn’t that hot. His face was red. When he spoke again, he sounded as bad as he looked.
“Look, I know what you two are thinking. You think that I killed Grace. As God is my witness, I swear to you that I didn’t do it. I may not always have behaved as well as I should have toward her, but I would never have killed her. I’m not that kind of person. I have my faults, but they don’t include murder.”
He stopped speaking, obviously wanting to say more but apparently worried that anything he said might make matters worse.
Drake was tempted to remain silent, but Melody spoke in a calm, unhurried voice, reciting facts. “Grace’s alarm went off at quarter to five yesterday morning. The last time that happened she went to your room and you told her to go to the parking lot and pick up a letter for Drake. How do we know that’s not what she did yesterday?”
“Because…” Fred stopped talking, went into deep thinking mode, and then tried again. “First of all, you have no proof that I had anything to do with those letters. Grace probably told you that story to get herself off the hook. I suspect she wasn’t above feathering her own nest, if you know what I mean. You didn’t get another letter, did you?”
Drake shook his head. “Grace wasn’t in any position to be delivering letters.”
Fred didn’t want to be accused of murder, but he also didn’t want to get fired for participating in a betting ring. Drake wondered whether Casey had talked to him about that. He still had his job. Trouble seemed to bounce off him. But then, he did have a resemblance to a ball.
Drake decided to try a different tack. “What’s your theory as to what happened to Grace?”
Fred pondered that. “She obviously expected to meet somebody in the parking lot. That means somebody contacted her the day before, either by phone or in person. It would have had to be somebody she knew quite well. Knew and trusted. If it wasn’t me and it wasn’t one of you, it could have been one of the other runners. The roommates vouched for each other. Everybody was asleep. Peaches was the other person she knew at the motel. His gun hadn’t been fired. Of course, he might have had another one.”
Melody stared at him. “Are you accusing Peaches?”
“I didn’t say that. You asked me what happened. I was just trying to examine the evidence.”
Drake was about ninety-nine percent certain that Peaches hadn’t had anything to do with Grace’s death. Fred was trying to deflect the inquiry away from himself. There wasn’t any sense in pursuing this further at the present time.
Drake stood up. “Melody and I are tired, dirty, and-as you’ve probably noticed-smelly. Please excuse us while we go get cleaned up.”
Melody stood also, and they filed out of the room.
CHAPTER 24
Today’s run goes from Port San Luis to Cayucos, north of Morro Bay. The first part of the run is free-form, meaning that you get to pick your own route. You can follow the road to the nuclear power plant that’s being built, but be advised that the first part of it is very hilly and curvy. Once you get past the site of the power plant under construction, there are other small roads you can take. From Los Osos you can take South Bay Boulevard past the swamp and turn left into Morro Bay State Park. Take Main Street into Morro Bay and surface streets through Morro Bay, which is dominated by the picturesque Morro Rock. Stay off the part of Route 1 that is freeway, but get on it again before you reach Cayucos.
“It’s days like this that make me wonder why I ever got into this race.”
Drake was panting hard running up the hill from Los Osos. He and Melody had determined that the road to the nuclear power plant was the only practical route after perusing available maps. Melody never panted as hard or sweat as much as the men, but she was struggling. Still, she tried to sound optimistic.
“It’s days like this that separate the winners from the also-rans. If we can pick the best route, we may be able to gain some time on the others.”
“If…at the moment it appears that everyone else is copying us.”
Or vice versa. One of the maps Drake had gotten his hands on was a topographical map that indicated altitude changes. He motioned for Melody to slow down a little and let the other runners pass them. He had the topo map in his hand, folded to show this stretch of the road.
“The road switches back on itself and passes quite close to here at a higher altitude. There appears to be a path connecting the two sections. If we can find it and follow it without killing ourselves in the process, we may be able to cut off quite a bit of distance.”
Several minutes later, the two plunged off the paved road onto a dirt path of dubious parentage. They ran on the hard, dry clay, trying to avoid ruts and fissures, between sections of dense and prickly brush that they didn’t want to have to bushwhack through. After a few anxious minutes, during which the steepness of the terrain made them wonder whether they were headed in the right direction, they came upon the other section of the paved road.
They turned onto it, thankful for the firmness of the asphalt and the knowledge that they knew where they were and took a quick glance to the right before they ran to the left.
Melody said, “I don’t see anyone.”
“Since we didn’t spend that much time on the shortcut, I think we can safely assume that we’ve taken the lead.”
They still had the lead when they passed Diablo Canyon where the nuclear power plant was under construction. They ran across a cow pasture to connect with a road that went through Montana de Oro State Park.
Melody watched the placid animals watch them and tried to look for cow pies at the same time. “We’ve seen
