Read Online A Flower in the Desert by Walter Satterthwait - Free Book Online Page B

said. “It couldn’t.” I got the impression that I wasn’t the only one she was trying to convince.
    â€œIf it does,” I said, “Melissa Alonzo may be in danger. Her sister wasn’t just killed. She was tortured. Probably for some time.”
    Her face was closed, shuttered. She didn’t want to believe me, didn’t want to listen. Perhaps she felt that if Melissa actually were in danger, then she herself might be partially responsible. Melissa, therefore, could not be in danger.
    I said, “I’m trying to help Melissa, Mrs. Carpenter. If you know anything at all about where she might be, where she might’ve gone, you’d only be doing her a favor by telling me.”
    She shook her head. “I told you. I haven’t got any idea.”
    I asked her, “What do you know about Elizabeth Drewer?” Dazzle them with a sudden change in the questions. Interrogation 101.
    We were back to performances once again. To demonstrate concentration, she paused longer than she should have. “A lawyer, isn’t she? One of the firebrand feminists.”
    â€œShe’s supposed to be connected to the Underground Railroad.”
    She demonstrated puzzlement.
    â€œThey help women in Melissa’s position,” I said. “Women who’re trying to keep their children away from abusing fathers.”
    She nodded. “I read about them, I think. People magazine.”
    Maybe I should renew my subscription. “Did Melissa ever mention them to you?”
    She uncrossed her legs, drew up her right knee. Another lie approaching? “No,” she said.
    â€œNever mentioned Elizabeth Drewer?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnd you have no idea where she might’ve gone.”
    â€œLike I said.”
    â€œAll right,” I said. “Thank you, Mrs. Carpenter.”
    â€œEdie,” she said. She smiled. “Are you off duty now?”
    â€œNope.” I stood. “Back to the salt mines.” I reached into my shirt pocket, plucked out my card and my Erasermate. On the back of the card I wrote down the name of my hotel. I handed her the card. “I’ll be there tonight. If you think of anything that might help me locate Melissa, could you give me a call?”
    Smiling, she tapped the card with a long red fingernail. “Are you sure I can’t offer you a drink? Something else?”
    I ignored the intentional broadness of that something else. I smiled back. My guileless smile, deliberately obtuse. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I’ve got an appointment. Maybe some other time. And if Melissa does contact you, anytime in the future, could you give her my Santa Fe number?”
    â€œYou know,” she said, smiling, “you could do pretty well in this town.”
    â€œHow’s that?”
    â€œYou don’t have any appointment. You haven’t looked at your watch since you sat down. You’re a damn good liar, Croft.”
    I grinned down at her. “You’re not bad yourself, Edie.”
    She stared at me for a moment, and then she laughed. It was still a good laugh. She looked me up and down again. Then she showed me that she was the second person I’d seen today who was able to raise a single eyebrow. “Well,” she said, “that remains to be seen.”

Seven
    I DID HAVE AN APPOINTMENT, BUT it wasn’t until six thirty. I thought I might have time to pick up some California fast food—an abalone tortilla, maybe, or an escargot-and-pineapple pizza. But the traffic was terrible, bumper-to-bumper cars breathing frustrated hydrocarbon sighs at each other, and I spent over an hour getting to the beach. At the entrance to Malibu Colony, the guard found my name on his clipboard, told me that Mr. Arthur was waiting at the Alonzo house, and explained how to get there.
    As I drove down the street, I could smell, through the open window of the Chevy, the astringent tang of brine and kelp, and