Alan Cook - Run into Trouble

“If it would make them safer.”

Drake couldn’t remain quiet. “How do we know it would make them or anybody else safer when we don’t know who made the attack? Casey didn’t say how wide the buffer zone should be, but it would undoubtedly include thousands of homes throughout California. Where would the money to compensate the homeowners come from?”

“The state would buy them.”

“With your tax dollars. Even if the state has enough of your money to do that, do you want government arbitrarily gobbling up private property based on unsubstantiated fears? A basic tenet of a free society is the right to own property without the government being able to confiscate it arbitrarily.”

“But these are rich people, and they’re blocking access to the beach.”

Drake was about to respond, but Melody interrupted him.

“So far we haven’t had any trouble getting to the beach. True, we’ve had to run around columns holding up houses a couple of times at high tide. But even if access could be better in places, that doesn’t justify kicking everybody off the beach.”

Drake cut in. “Isn’t it interesting that Casey is making this a class issue, based on income, when he clearly could own all the ocean front homes he wanted?”

Grace spoke softly, almost to herself. “Wouldn’t it be great being married to a senator?”

The route from Hollister Avenue near Goleta heads west on Hollister to El Capitan State Beach where you will meet Route 101. Take Route 101 west. Even though it’s a freeway here, you can run on the left shoulder, but watch out for traffic. Route 101 turns inland at Gaviota State Beach. Be sure to stay on the road as we won’t be going through Vandenberg Air Force Base. Take Route 1 where it heads toward Lompoc. The day’s run ends at the top of the first hill on Route 1. There’s no good alternative to these routes, so we won’t have any independent thinking today. Just remember to have plenty of water and/or Gatorade with you for the final push up the hill on Route 1.

“Did you hear about the music festival that’s going on in New York at a place called Woodstock or something like that?”

Tom asked the question of his partner Jerry, as well as of Drake and Melody. They had been running together since Route 101 had turned inland from the beach and started climbing steeply. Now they were on narrow Route 1, running single file and climbing even more steeply.

“I saw pictures on the news this morning,” Melody said. “They estimated that half a million people have showed up. How do they all get fed?”

“I guess if they stay stoned, they don’t notice how hungry they are.”

Jerry was laboring and sweating profusely and not laughing.

“Fred’s directions said hill, not mountain.”

It was also a lot hotter here than along the beach. The double whammy of heat and the steep climb had left the other runners somewhere behind them out of sight. Tom, who was also sweating, took a drink of whatever was in his bottle.

“This is the first real hill we’ve seen. The Boston Marathon doesn’t have hills like this.”

Drake’s chuckle was strangled by his heavy breathing. “Nobody would run a marathon that had this kind of a hill.”

It was interesting to Drake that he and Melody seemed to be handling the climb better than the other runners. They had both been training in the mountains, which had ups and downs, and the thinner air had increased their lung capacity. Drake was bothered some by the heat, but he had brought enough liquid with him to keep from being dehydrated.

Melody’s sleeveless Running California top was plastered to her body with sweat, which might be appealing if the men had the energy to notice, but she kept running, slowly but steadily. She passed Tom, who had been leading, and started pulling away from him. Drake was her partner; he should be staying with her. He made an extra effort and also passed Tom.

They were spending the night in the picturesque Danish community of Solvang. Melody took a cold bath and a cold shower. She had a rest. These activities restored her body to something resembling normalcy. She sipped a cold drink as she got dressed and then went out to the lobby of the motel to join Grace in a tour of the quaint shops. Solvang was made for shopping.

Grace was sitting at a small table in the lobby with Peaches. That didn’t surprise Melody since they were both employees of Giganticorp, but they were talking softly with their heads close together. Melody hadn’t seen any previous signs of intimacy between them.

She went over to their table, prepared to make a comment about them plotting the overthrow of the world when Grace motioned for her to sit down.

“Peaches has information for you.”

Melody sat in the third chair and declined Peaches’ offer to get her a drink. He took a sip of what was evidently a glass of water with ice cubes before he spoke again. “That fellow Sterling that Drake found out about?”

She’d told Peaches about Sterling the day before and showed him his mug shot, hoping that he might spot him, without going into detail about why they were looking for him. It was obvious from the photo, however, that he’d been in trouble with the law. Melody nodded, waiting for him to continue.

Grace beat him, whispering conspiratorially. “Peaches found him.”

Melody had also told Grace about Sterling. Her heart gave a leap, and she turned back toward Peaches.

“You did?”

Peaches nodded. “He’s staying at a motel just down the street.”

“How do you know?”

“His car. I’ve seen the same car over and over again since we started the race. I drive along each day’s route, keeping track of where everybody is. This car has been doing the same thing. At first I thought it was just different cars that looked alike. After you talked to me, I wrote down the license plate information the next time I saw it. Today I saw the car on Route 1. It was easy to spot now that we’re out of the populated area. It had the same license.”

“How do you know it’s Sterling?”

“He’s brilliant.” Grace couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. “Just like a real detective.”

Peaches shrugged. “Grace actually found it. When we didn’t see the car in the lot here, we went to the nearby motels and checked all the cars. She spotted it.”

Grace continued the story. “Peaches picked the lock. I didn’t know he could do that sort of thing. I was scared that Sterling might suddenly show up, but he didn’t. Anyway, the car is registered to Dennis Sterling. So what happens now?”

“Now?” Melody hesitated. “First, thank you both very much. You’ve been a big help. Don’t tell anybody else about this. Don’t take any other action. I have to find Drake.”

“Here’s the car, right where they said it would be.”

Drake looked where Melody was pointing.

“What can we deduce from the fact that the car hasn’t moved?”

“Either he walked to a restaurant, or he hasn’t eaten dinner.”

Drake looked at his watch. It was 8:30. The sun had set. “Who in his right mind doesn’t eat dinner? Anyway, we know he was here a half hour ago.”

“Thanks to me.”

Melody had called the motel, pretending to be Sterling’s sister, and charmed the desk clerk into giving her his room number. When the clerk rang the room, she handed the phone to Drake. When Sterling answered, Drake said, “Sorry, wrong number,” and hung up.

The motel was a boxy, two-story affair with an outside stairway to the second floor where Sterling had a room. They climbed the stairs and quickly found his room. The window curtain was closed, but a light shone on the curtain from inside. They could hear muffled sounds coming from a television set.