Alan Cook - Run into Trouble

She nodded.

“It involves keeping an eye on Fred and everything else that goes on. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let Melody or me know. By the way, do you, Fred, or Peaches have a portable typewriter?”

Grace shook her head.

“Do you know the other people who are helping with the race, the plainclothesmen, so to speak?” Melody asked. “Watching for violations, that sort of thing?”

“No. I know there are several of them. Fred deals with them directly. I suspect he feels I’d tell the runners who they are. I-I’m sorry I delivered the notes. What do they say?”

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Drake said. “Not knowing will help keep you out of trouble.” And reduce the chances of her speaking out of turn.

Drake and Melody spent the next half hour briefing Grace on the kinds of things she should be looking for and how she could do it without Fred catching on. Melody softened her tone, and Drake put on his instructor hat.

When they were wrapping up, Melody changed the subject. “After what I’ve done to you tonight, you may not want to room with me anymore.”

“No, I do. I feel safer with you. With both of you. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I get the feeling that you’ll protect me.”

Drake smiled. “We’ll try. We’re not sure what’s going on either. I guess we’re all in this together.”

Today’s run is almost entirely on the beach. Run on the bike path or walking path where available. You will have views of surfers, volleyball players, chainsaw jugglers, piers, marinas, power stations, airplanes, and dolphins if you’re lucky. Starting on Pacific Coast Highway in Redondo Beach, take Avenue I to the Esplanade. Head north and take the first available ramp down to the sand. Follow the bike/walking path to the Redondo Beach pier. Go through the parking structure and alongside the dock to Harbor Drive. Follow it past King Harbor and return to the beach at Herondo. Follow the walking path through Hermosa and Manhattan Beaches, and continue on the bike path through El Segundo Beach and Dockweiler Beach, which goes under the takeoff path from Los Angeles Airport. At the north end of Playa del Rey follow the bike path across the first channel. Turn right and then left on the path to Fiji Way. Follow Fiji Way, turn left on Admiralty Way, right on Via Marina, and left on Washington Boulevard back to the beach. Follow the beach paths through the kooky area of Venice Beach. Continue through Ocean Park, and you’re in Santa Monica. Go through Will Rogers State Beach and Pacific Palisades to Topanga State Beach at the end of Topanga Canyon Boulevard. If this part of the beach is impassable due to high tide, run on Route 1 but watch for cars.

“Running on concrete is more jarring to the knees than running on asphalt.”

Drake made this observation as they wended their way past the many souvenir stands of Venice Beach. Interesting characters of all ages and manner of dress threatened to slow them down, but by going single file, the runners kept up a good pace.

Melody did a double take at a man juggling several objects, including a whirring chainsaw, and hoped that his arm wouldn’t be amputated in the process.

“When it’s a choice of concrete or sand, like today, I pick concrete for speed, but, of course, sand is easier on the body, at least for short distances. Because of our new policy of staying with the leaders, when the others are running on concrete, we have to also.”

They had been within sight of the leaders all day. So had Tom and Jerry, which meant that nobody was gaining on them. Drake felt twinges in his back, a result of their faster pace. He was sure that Fred had set him up with a chiropractor for this afternoon, probably in Pacific Palisades or Santa Monica. Fred had been very good about taking care of his needs. Thinking of Fred reminded him that they hadn’t had a chance to discuss what if anything they should be doing about Fred.

They passed the Venice Beach crowd and were in a quieter area. The other runners were spread out enough so they could talk without being overheard. Drake voiced his thoughts. “Fred has taken such good care of us that it’s hard to picture him as being part of this intrigue.”

“Maybe the fact that he’s taking good care of us makes it easier to picture him as a conspirator. If he wants us to win, he should be catering to our every whim. He asked me if I needed a chiropractor, a massage, or anything else. He’s been very solicitous.”

“He wants to get into your pants.”

“If so, he’s not acting on it. Ever since the pageant he’s been the soul of politeness and respect.”

“I’ve tried to think how we could confront him with the letters without all hell breaking loose and Grace getting fired.”

“It could also endanger my mum. We can’t prove anything. I have a feeling that Grace would not be a reliable witness. She’d cave under threats. Whoever’s behind it, it’s more than just Fred.”

Drake grabbed a handful of gorp from his pouch and shoved it into his mouth. He pondered while he chewed and swallowed. “Do you think Grace will talk to Fred about our conversation?”

“I doubt it because she’s afraid of losing her job. However, that fear might make her report things about us to him that don’t implicate her.”

“Making her a sort of triple agent. We have to be careful what we tell her. We can’t trust anybody.”

“Just like when we were working together. We should feel right at home.”

“Now I remember why I left you. It was because wherever you went, trouble followed.”

“Speak for yourself, John.”

Drake’s after-dinner regimen mainly involved getting himself ready for the next day. Since the routine included sleeping a lot, it didn’t give him much time for night life. Up to now he hadn’t felt like doing anything, anyway, but as his body healed, he began to have his old urges. So far he hadn’t acted on them beyond wondering whether it was possible for him to patch up his relationship with Melody.

He had just emerged from a cold bath and was drying himself briskly with a too-small motel towel, trying to get some warmth back into his body. He couldn’t take a bath right after they finished running because he’d gone to a chiropractor, but he had to admit that Melody was right and the cold helped, even if hot water was a lot more comfortable.

Sleeping, stretching, chiropractors, cold water. All necessary to keep his aging and damaged body moving. Once they got beyond the populated area of Southern California, daily chiropractic sessions would no longer be an option, so he had to take advantage of that opportunity while he could.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock, and he didn’t feel like going to bed yet. He pulled on pants and a shirt without much of a plan beyond perhaps wandering over to the room shared by Melody and Grace to see if they wanted to play cards or something. The corridor was empty and everything was quiet. Tired runners weren’t noisy at night, so they didn’t disturb the other guests.

Drake remembered that Melody’s room was the first one along the hallway. He knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” It was Grace’s voice.

“Drake.”

The door opened.

“Is Melody here?”

“No, she isn’t.”

“Oh, sorry.” He turned to leave.

“Would you like to come in?”

Drake turned back, surprised, and saw Grace’s welcoming smile.

“Well…I think I’ll-”

“I’m just reading a book. Come on in for a minute and keep me company. I’m lonely.”

“Well, all right.”

He was surprised that Grace was willing to be alone with him in a motel room. She pointed to a chair and sat down herself on one of the beds hard enough that she bounced. Lending credence to the probability that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her Running California tank top. He asked her where Melody was.