The trip had been a bust. The meeting with the Conways had failed to turn up anything useful. And now he was going to have to spend another night in the motel. He couldn't really afford it. But what the hell, one more night wasn't going to make or break him.
He'd seen a McDonald's a few blocks away and thought he'd give it a whirl. Before he left the room he tried Maguire again. No dice. Then he found himself punching out his own number, listening to it ring.
Fran said, 'Hello.'
He hung up not knowing what to say. He felt like hell.
– -
Annie lay in the crook of Colin's arm, facing him. She ran a finger down his nose, across his mustache.
'Tell me about when you lived here as a child,' he said, gently biting the tip of her finger.
'What do you want to know?'
'How you happened to come here, why you left.'
'My father's a musician; he plays the trumpet. He was with the Dorsey band for awhile.'
'No kidding.'
'Not for long. Dad had some personality problems. Still does. He has trouble with authority. Big bands didn't have to put up with that.'
He kissed her earlobe. 'So he played with little bands?'
'Tickles,' she said, squirming, grinning at him.
'You don't like it?'
'I didn't say that.' She kissed his lips.
'Go on with your story.'
'He played with combos, mostly. Anyway, one time when he was out of work and things were tight for us, he heard about this club out here. Musicians are very tight-they have an old boy network all their own. This combo needed a trumpet player so Dad auditioned, got the job, and we moved out to Seaville for the summer.'
'And you loved it.'
'I did.' She took a beat, then said silkily. 'I really loved it.'
They were looking into each other's eyes.
Colin said, 'Did you?'
'Yes. I loved it,' she whispered.
He pulled her to him and began to make love to her again, knowing this time would be different from the first. they were too hungry then to go slow, explore each other inch by inch. But this time they would take it easy, make it last.
– -
Hallock had picked up a paperback at an all night drugstore. Lying on the motel bed he opened the book. It was one of Ed McBain's 87th Precinct stories. He loved them. McBain knew his stuff, he thought. This one was called Heat. Fitting. Except that since the rain started it had cooled off some. It was still sticky, though.
When he turned the page he realized he hadn't absorbed a word. His mind was with Fran. It was ten-thirty. He laid the book on his belly, reached for the phone, and punched out the number. This time when she answered he said hello right away so he wouldn't hang up again.
'Where are you, Waldo?' She sounded angry.
'Florida.'
'Florida? Aren't they having hurricanes and whatnot down there?'
'That's why I'm still here.'
'What are you doing there in the first place?'
'I'm working on something. How are you, Fran?'
'What are you working on?'
'Can't go into it on the phone. You okay?'
'I'm okay but I'm damn mad.'
'Why's that?'
'Because I didn't know how to find you. And Liz Wood didn't know where you were either.'
'How'd you know I was staying at Woods'? She call you?'
'No, she didn't call me.'
'So how'd you know?'
'Oh, Waldo, don't be dumb. Everybody on the Fork knows where everybody is every minute. You ought to know that better than anyone.'
'What'd you want to find me for?'
'Your child got hit in the face with a baseball and needed ten stitches.'
'John?'
'Cynthia.'
'Cynthia? What was she doing playing baseball? I thought she hated sports.'
'She does, but her boyfriend plays. She was watching a game when she got hit.'
'Boyfriend? What boyfriend?'
'Oh, Waldo,' she said, exasperated.
'She's only a little girl, what's she doing with a boyfriend?'
'She's fifteen and she's doing what everybody else is doing.Having fun. Something you never even heard of.'
He ignored her remark. 'Is Cyn okay now?'
'She's fine. A little pain, that's all.'
'Can I talk to her?'
'She's sleeping.'
'Oh.'
They were silent for a few moments.
Fran said, 'You're not going to get into any trouble, are you? I mean, being in Florida?'
'No. No trouble.'
'When are you coming home?'
'Soon as I can get a plane out.'
'Where are you staying, in case I need you?'
He told her. He thought of saying he wished she were with him but didn't. 'Everything okay in Seaville?' he asked timidly.
'If you mean has there been another murder, the answer's no. But a story broke in
'What story?'
'I've got it here.' She read it to him.
'Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,' he said. 'Poor bastard. No wonder I couldn't get him on the phone.'
Fran said, 'I never did like that Babe Parkinson.'
'Yeah. Fran, you think you could go over to Colin's, ask him to call me?'
'Tonight?'
'Well…'
'Why should I do your dirty work? You walked out, so take the consequences.'
He couldn't see what his walking out had to do with this. 'It's not dirty work, Fran.'
'Why'd you call, Waldo?'
There it was. Why had he called? Because he missed her. He couldn't say so. 'I just thought I'd check in.'
'Thanks a bunch.'
'What's wrong with that?'
'Nothing. Nothing's wrong with it, Waldo, that's not the point.'
'What d'you mean?'
He heard a sigh. 'If you don't know then I'm not going to tell you.'
'Well, I don't know.'
'That's a pity,' she said.
