“She’snot my girl.”
“Well.Whoever she is, she isn’t here. You’ll have to go.”
Theman looked athim. “What were you in the war, kid?”
“4-F,”Rick said.
Hewas used to the look the guy gave him. 4-F—medical deferment. Rickappeared to be a fit and able-bodied man in the prime of his life.People assumed he must have pulled a fast one on the draft board to getout of the service, and that made him a cheat as well as a coward. Helet the assumptions pass by; he’d outlive them all.
“Ifyou don’t mind me asking . . . ,” the guy prompted.
“I’mallergic to sunlight.” It was the excuse he’d given throughout the war.
“Huh.Whoever heard of such a thing?”
Rickshrugged in response.
“Youknow what I was? Infantry. In Italy. I got shot twice, kid. But I gavemore than I got. I’m a hell of a lot tougher than I look.”
“Idon’t doubt it, sir.”
Theguy wasn’t drunk—he smelled of sweat, unlaundered clothes, andaftershave, not alcohol. But he might have been a little bit crazy. Helooked like he was waiting for Rick to start a fight.
“IfI see this girl, you want me to tell her you’re looking for her?” Ricksaid.
“No.I’m sure she hasn’t been anywhere near here.” He slid off the stool andtugged his hat more firmly on his head. “You take care, kid.”
“Youtoo, sir.”
Finally,he left, and Rick locked the door.
Hewouldn’t have been surprised if he’d returned to the storeroom andfound Helen gone—fled, for whatever reason. But she was still there,sitting on the crate in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest,hugging herself.
“Someonewas here looking for you,” Rick said.
Shejerked, startled—he’d entered too quietly. Even so, she looked likesomeone who had a man with a gun looking for her.
“Whowas he? What’d he look like?” she asked, and Rick described him. Hergaze grew anguished, despairing. “It’s Blake. I don’t know what to do.”She sniffed, wiping her nose as she started crying again. “He’ll killme if he finds me, he’ll kill me.”
“Ifyou don’t mind your coffee bitter, we can finish off what’s in the potand you can tell me all about it.” He put persuasion into his voice, toset her at her ease. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Idon’t want to get you involved, Rick.”
“Thenwhy did you come here?”
Shedidn’t have an answer for that.
Hepoured a cup of coffee for her, pressed it into her hands, and waitedfor her to start.
“Igot this job, right? It’s a good job, good pay. But sometimes . . .well. I make deliveries. I’m not supposed to ask what’s in thepackages, I just go where they tell me to go and I don’t ask anyquestions.”
“Youtold me you got a job in a typing pool.”
“Whatwas I supposed to do,tell you the truth?”
“No,you’re right. It wasn’t any of my business. Go on.”
“There’sa garageout east on Champa—”
“Roughneighborhood.”
“I’venever had any trouble. Usually, I just walk in, set the bag on theshelf, and walk right back out. Today I heard gunshots. I turned aroundand there’s Blake, he’d just shot Mikey—the guy from the garage whopicks up the drops—and two other guys with him. He’s holding this gun,it’s still smoking. He shot them. I didn’t know whatelse to do; there’s a back door, so I ran for it, and he saw me, I knowhe saw me—”
Hecrouched beside her, took the coffee cup away, and pressed her handstogether; they were icy. He didn’t have much of his own heat to helpwarm her with.
“Nowhe wants to tie off the loose ends,” Rick said.
“Ofall the stupid timing; if I’d been five minutes earlier I’d have beenfine, I wouldn’t have seen anything.”
Rickmight argue that—she’d still be working as a runner for some kind ofcrime syndicate.
“Haveyou thought about going to the police? They could probably protectyou. If they can lock Blake up, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
“Youthink it really works like that? I can’t go to the cops. They’d arrestme just as fast as they’d arrest him.”
“Soleave town,” Rick said.
“Andgo where? Do what? With what money?”
“Ican give you money,” Rick said.
“Ona bartender’s salary? That’ll get me to where, Colorado Springs? No,Rick, I’m not going to ask you for money.”
Heducked to hide a smile. Poor kid, thinking she was the only one withbig secrets. “But you’ll ask me for a place to hide.”
“I’msorry. It’s just I didn’t know where to go, I don’t have any otherfriends here. And now I’ve dragged you into it and if Blake finds outhe’ll go after you, too.”
“Helen,don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” He squeezed her hands, trying toimpart some calm. She didn’t have any other friends here—that hebelieved.
“Youprobably hate me now.”
Heshrugged. “Not much point to that.”
Shetilted her head, a gesture of curiosity. “You’re different, you knowthat?”
“Yeah.I do. Look, I know a place where Blake absolutely won’t find you. Youcan stay there for a couple of days. Maybe this’ll blow over.Maybe they’ll catch Blake. In the meantime, you can make plans. Howdoes that sound?”
“Thanks,Rick. Thanks.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
Oneof the uniformed officers came in to the living room to hand Hardin apaper cup of coffee. Rick declined the offer of a cup for him.
“Soshehad a criminal background,” Hardin said. “Did she do anytime?”
“No,”Rick said. “She was a runner, a messenger. Never anything more seriousthan that.”
“Prostitution?”
“No,I don’t think so.” He was pretty sure he would have known if she had.But he couldn’t honestly say what she’d done before he met her. “I knowshe saw a lot that she probably wasn’t supposed to see. She testifiedin a murder trial.”
“Yousaid that was over sixty years ago. Surely anybody who wanted to getrid of a witness is long gone,” the detective said.
“Youonly asked if I knew why someone would want to kill her. That’s all Ican think of. She didn’t have much property, and no family to leave itto even if she did. But I do know that sixty years ago, a few peopledid have a reason to want her dead.”
“Onlya vampire would think it reasonable to look into sixty year-oldmotives for murder.”
Hehadn’t really thought of it like that, but she was right.
“Doyou haveany other questions, Detective?”
“Whatdid she do since then?
