Alan Cook - Run into Trouble

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.”

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 going 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?”