Run into Trouble Page 19

  “No such luck.”

  Slick sat down next to Melody and smiled at the waitress who had bustled over to the table. He ordered a Coke. When the waitress asked whether he wanted to order dinner, he took a look at Drake’s and Melody’s plates and declined. He sat there perfectly at ease, not apologizing, watching them eat.

  Drake said, “Who called this meeting?”

  Slick fished around in an attaché case he had with him and pulled out some photographic prints.

  “Interesting developments from Melody’s pictures, pun intended. Blade wanted me to show you these, especially one.” He took his time selecting a print from the pile. To Melody he said, “You’re a pretty good photographer, shooting under less than ideal conditions—poor lighting and, of course, you didn’t have all day to compose these. This one’s a little fuzzy, but if you look at it through this magnifying glass…”

  “I’ll take all that as a compliment.”

  She took the print and magnifying glass from Slick. She studied the print for a few seconds.

  “I took this on my knees because I saw something near the floor—near the deck, I mean—that caught my eye. It was in a shadow; I didn’t know if it would turn out.”

  “It’s good enough so we can tell what it is. It’s the Giganticorp logo.”

  Melody recognized it now because it was on their running shirts: a caricature of a giant inside a letter G. She almost forgot to keep her voice down.

  “My God. Are you telling me that Giganticorp built the sub?”

  Drake had been impatiently waiting his turn. He reached across the table and more or less grabbed the photo and the magnifying glass from Melody. He peered through the glass until he had it focused on the photo.

  “Unless someone’s playing games, that’s the Big G logo, all right.”

  Slick smiled smugly, now that he had their attention. “Some things are coming together. We’ve been able to get our hands on plans for a similar rig that Big G is supposedly just now developing, and there is an amazing resemblance to the description you all gave me.”

  A thought occurred to Melody. “The military have been studying the sub. Surely they must have seen the logo, too.”

  Drake said, “Surely they must have. Surely they and Big G are in bed together. It isn’t unknown for us to sell weapons to our enemies. We’ve done it before.”

  Slick smiled. “You two must have used some kind of leverage on Casey to get him to give you the tour. I’m sure he didn’t volunteer to do it. Either he forgot about the logo or figured he’d whisk you around so fast you wouldn’t have a chance to see it.”

  Melody was still trying to figure out what happened. “Do you think Casey and his brass sold it to the bad guys without permission? What are they trying to do, start a war?”

  Slick gave a head movement that was almost a nod. “That’s difficult to substantiate, but we’re working on it.”

  Drake asked, “Is Casey in hot water?”

  “The president has requested that Casey go to D.C. for a little chat. He’s flying tonight on the red-eye.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Keep your eyes open. I suspect we don’t know the whole story yet. Not everything jives.”

  Drake had been thinking about that. “Such as the disappearance of the crew of the sub without leaving behind any evidence as to who they were or where they went. They didn’t get picked up by a larger ship, and they made no effort to scuttle the sub so it wouldn’t be found. Besides, if there are no mechanical problems with the sub, why did they leave it behind?”

  Slick did a full nod. “Good questions all. Thinking makes me hungry. I’m going to order a big piece of apple pie a la mode.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Today’s run goes from the intersection of Del Monte Avenue and Route 1 in Sand City to the Pajaro River at the Monterey County/Santa Cruz County line. Suggested route is Del Monte Blvd. to the Fort Ord Bike Path. Pick up the path where Del Monte crosses Route 1 again. Take the bike path to Marina, and then follow Route 1 through Castroville. Exit Route 1 at Jensen Road. Take Bluff Road, Trafton Road, and then McGowan Road across the river. There are no big ups and downs, except for a moderate climb at Zmudowski State Beach a few miles from the end of the run. What we’re mostly testing today is your ability not to get lost.

  ***

  “I’ll bet you a nickel that Casey initiated the first threatening letter. He wasn’t in on any betting; he was just trying to scare us into continuing the race. But it gave Fred the idea and he wrote the second letter on his own.” Drake had come to this conclusion sometime in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep.

  “It was part of his effort to make sure you stayed in the race. That figures. Threats and incentives. Well, he’s succeeded so far.”

  Melody wasn’t sure whether they would do more good staying in the race or dropping out. One aspect of the problem was that she didn’t know what part Drake’s father played in this charade. Casey certainly didn’t want Admiral Drake to know what he had done to Drake. Maybe it was time to speak to the admiral.

  “Look, I know you and your father don’t get along like strawberries and cream, but don’t you think you should ask him questions about his relationship with Giganticorp? We know he’s a friend of Senator Leffingwell, but there must be more to it than that.”

  Drake’s father was his Achilles heel. He faced most situations with courage, but he had a hard time facing his father. He mumbled something and tried to think of reasons why it wasn’t necessary to talk to the old man.

  Tom and Jerry, who had been running a few feet behind them, pulled up beside them now that they were on the Fort Ord Bike Path and didn’t have to worry about cars.

  Tom grinned at Melody. “We’re going to be staying in a populated area tonight where there should be plenty of bars. Would you like to go out and quaff a few? Although I know that in your case it’ll probably be some diet drink. I never can get you drunk.” He laughed.

  “Since you’re brazen enough to ask me in front of Drake, don’t you think you should invite him too?”

  “I didn’t think he went out at night.” He looked at Drake. “Don’t you have to take an ice bath or something?”

  “That’s what happens when you get old. Listen, you children run out and play. Don’t worry about me. As they say in show biz, break a leg.”

  “In show business that means good luck, but I have a feeling you mean it literally.”

  “How perceptive of you.”

  ***

  Drake’s hands were wet when he put through the phone call to his father from his motel room. He cursed himself for being a coward and hoped like hell that his father wouldn’t answer. Maybe he was out drinking with his Army buddies. There must be a few old soldiers in Bakersfield.

  “Drake.”

  Hearing his own name spoken in an authoritative voice always put Drake off, but he recovered. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Where are you?”

  Not “How are you?” or “What’s happening?” His father wasn’t much on feelings and had never showed any interest in what he was doing.

  “Near Santa Cruz.”

  “Hippie heaven. I hear everybody goes around naked there.”

  At least Drake had his attention. But he had to be careful what he said. He couldn’t talk about the sub or anything classified, even to a retired admiral.

  “I’m not sure about that; I’ll let you know. The race is going well. Melody and I are in third place. Casey’s run for the Senate appears to be going well, too. You probably know more about that than I do. I was wondering what you thought about Casey.”

  Silence at the other end of the line. It was a simple enough question. His father cleared his throat before he spoke. “Casey is the son I wish I had.”

  Now it was Drake who couldn’t speak. He hadn’t been expecting to be hit with a sledge hammer.

  The deafening silence went on for several seconds before the admiral spoke again. “Casey has
dedicated himself to serving his country. He didn’t serve in the military, but if he had, you can be sure he would have been an officer, not just enlisted. He’s built up Giganticorp from scratch, and now it’s a key supplier of arms and weapons systems for the military. He’s not a quitter. He didn’t just work for a few years and then decide to hell with it and go off and live in the mountains. Now he’s continuing his service to his country by running for the Senate.”

  Drake couldn’t bring himself to say anything that wouldn’t be the spark for an already flammable situation. Why had he listened to Melody? Melody, who was out doing things he didn’t want to know about with Tom.

  With a great effort Drake controlled his voice when he spoke. “I take it you’re supporting Casey for the Senate.”

  “Damn right. He’s the best man for the job. He’s got voter appeal, too. Family man with a wife and kids. Never had any scandals. Sure, maybe he fools around a little now and then, but what the hell. Just proves he’s a man’s man.”

  A divorced family man with a second wife. And the other thing his father had said. “Fools around? Who does he fool around with?”

  “When I was in Malibu, I mentioned to him what a nice piece of ass that girl—what’s her name?—Grace, I think, would be. He smiles a cat-ate-the-canary smile and says yeah, I’m right. Turns out he’s been bonking her in San Jose. Then he makes a face and says she started getting uppity and asking for things—promotions and stuff like that. So he sent her on the road with Running California. Say, didn’t I hear on the news that she got killed by some mugger? Damn shame. What a waste.”

  Drake couldn’t remember any other questions that he wanted to ask his father. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak. He hung up the phone without saying another word.

  ***

  Melody was surprised that Jerry wasn’t with Tom when she met him in the lobby of the motel. Always before when they had gone out for drinks, both of them had accompanied her. She asked Tom about it. He told her that Jerry’s hip was bothering him, and he was going to follow Drake’s lead and take a cold bath.

  It wasn’t a big deal to Melody; Tom was easy to talk to, and they got along well. He was good looking, although his long red hair and slim build made him look a lot different than Drake. They went to an upscale bar where Tom had a couple of beers, and Melody matched them with diet drinks.

  They chatted about the race. Tom joked that he and Jerry always had to keep Drake and her in sight so they wouldn’t gain too much on them in the overall standings. Only it wasn’t a joke. He talked about the cushy job he had in Redding with a car dealership, sort of a sponsorship that allowed him to keep running.

  When Melody asked him how he felt about Casey’s proposal to create a buffer zone along the coast, he shrugged. They didn’t talk about the submarine or Casey’s run for the Senate. If Tom was a barometer, none of the runners had an interest in politics.

  They left the bar early. Melody paid for her drinks. She always made a point of paying her own way. They had borrowed the Giganticorp van because that was the vehicle that was available. When they got into the van, Tom suggested that they sit in one of the back seats and chat for a bit.

  Melody knew that chatting wasn’t what he had in mind. In a backseat they could sit right next to each other. But she felt itchy and went along with it. He put his arm around her and started kissing her. She went along with that, too. She hadn’t done anything like that for some time, and he was a good kisser.

  When he slid his hand inside her shirt, she went along with that because she was horny. It wasn’t until he tried to unfasten her bra that she put a stop to it.

  Tom looked upset. “What’s the matter?”

  “Sorry. I can’t do this. I have to get back.”

  It was tawdry, too much like teenagers shagging in the backseat of an old car.

  Tom argued; Melody refused. It occurred to her that she had the opportunity to do something to him that would knock him out of the race. Maybe break a bone in his foot. Justified mayhem. The idea sounded so funny to her that she burst out laughing.

  Tom quickly slid away from her and looked hurt. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Melody controlled her laughter. “Just a thought I had. It’s not you. Here, give me the key, and I’ll drive us back.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Today’s run goes from the Monterey County/Santa Cruz County line to Bonny Doon Road and Route 1. It’s a longer run than usual, but everyone is in such good shape that it shouldn’t be a problem. The challenge is to find the best route through Santa Cruz using a combination of San Andreas Road, Soquel Drive, and Mission Street to Route 1, or perhaps some combination of the Cliff Drives (East, West, Opal) that go closer to the beach. Hint: At some points it may even be advantageous to run on the railroad track (watch out for trains) to cross creeks and shorten distances.

  ***

  Today it was Phil and Brian who were dogging the footsteps of Drake and Melody. The latter two had gained time on the former during the past few days. Phil and Brian still had a grip on second place in the standings, but that grip was not as tight as it used to be.

  Tom and Jerry were nowhere in sight, having taken a different route somewhere along the way. Melody was sure she knew why. She and Tom had parted on less than cordial terms last night, and he was avoiding her. She was confident that she had made the correct decision about spurning his advances, because his absence didn’t greatly bother her. Taking different routes could change the amount of time that separated their teams, for better or worse, depending on which team found the faster route.

  Phil was complaining about Fred. “He hasn’t given us a day off in forever, and now he expects us to run a long course.”

  Drake wasn’t feeling sympathetic. “You have to be willing to endure a little pain for a million dollars.”

  Not to mention the per diem they were all receiving, although Drake and Melody received twice as much as the others and had been paid for a longer period of time.

  Brian was one of the youngest in the race. “I’d like to spend a couple of days here in Santa Cruz. It’s got tons of girls and topless beaches. I hear there’s a viewing place call Peeper’s Point. I hope we go by that.”

  “You sound just like my father.”

  The others looked at Drake, especially Melody, because of his tone of voice. He hadn’t mentioned his conversation with his father to her yet this morning. She hadn’t told him about her evening with Tom, either. She slowed a little, dropping behind Phil and Brian. When Drake dropped back beside her, she spoke for his ears only.

  “I take it you talked to your father last night.”

  “Talk is too optimistic a term. Words were spoken, but I wouldn’t describe it as a conversation.” Drake couldn’t speak of his father’s statement about Casey being like a son to him. That was too painful. But he needed to bring up Grace, even though that also produced pain. “My father must be on chummier terms with Casey than we are, because he told me a story I haven’t heard before.”

  “About Casey?”

  “Yes. He told me that Casey and Grace had been having sex together.”

  “Grace? She never told me that. Do you think he was making it up?”

  “One thing about my father is that he doesn’t make things up. As one of his navy buddies once said, he is without guile. Which means he’s also without tact, but that’s another story. In any case, Miss Grace wasn’t the innocent she appeared to be.”

  “As her roommate, I can tell you that she wasn’t all that virginal. She had the hots for you from the start. I can’t say I’m terribly surprised to hear about her and Casey. But it adds a new dimension to Grace’s murder. What if Casey had her killed because she was threatening to make their liaison public? He’s running for the Senate and can’t afford to have a scandal like that brought out in the open.”

  Drake took a swig of Gatorade before he spoke. “I was thinking about it last night. If Casey hired somebody to kill Grace, it’s go
ing to be almost impossible for us or anybody else to prove it. But what if—”

  “He killed Grace himself?” Melody’s heart rate increased beyond that required by her running, and she slowed down to compensate. “Do you think that’s possible? He said he was staying in Los Angeles and attending a convention there.”

  “Let me tell you a story. When I was in the army I was stationed for a short period of time at Camp Roberts, which is near Paso Robles, just north of San Luis Obispo where Grace was killed. I went to Los Angeles for the weekend to visit my mother. I was due back at Camp Roberts at noon on Monday. I figured I would be able to drive up Monday morning if I left early.

  “My alarm didn’t go off, and I overslept. By the time I woke up, it was a cinch I would be AWOL. However, I already had enough black marks on my record and didn’t want any more. I decided I was going to make it. All I had was an old Chevy, not the Lincoln Continental that Casey was driving on the day Grace died, but I was the fastest thing on the one oh one that morning. I may hold the land speed record between L.A. and Paso Robles, with the possible exception of James Dean and his Porsche, although if I recall correctly, Dean drove up the inland route and hadn’t made it to Paso Robles when he was killed.”

  Melody smiled. “I saw Rebel Without a Cause, and I suspect you liked Natalie Wood better than James Dean, but let’s get back on track. Are you saying that Casey could have driven from L.A. to San Luis Obispo, killed Grace at about five a.m., driven back to L.A. where he received the message about Grace’s death, and been able to claim that he hadn’t received it earlier because he had been at a breakfast meeting?”

  “Yes, and with time to stop for gas and coffee. It couldn’t be much more than two hundred miles from the L.A. Airport to the motel where we were staying. Driving back he wouldn’t have to slow down before Santa Barbara, which has approximately four traffic lights on one oh one. He would have gone through there during early rush hour. Then it would be clear sailing until he hit the Los Angeles commuter traffic.”

  “No wonder he fell asleep when he was driving us back from the restaurant. All right, you’ve convinced me. How do we prove it?”