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Authors: L. J. Parker
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leave so I can finish my evening tasks before bedtime.”
That took everyone by surprise. Dorothy recovered quickly. “We’ll
be back on time for our appointment in the morning, Bea,” she said. “You can
call me at the hotel if you need anything before then.”
Dorothy snagged Cassie’s arm and turned toward the front
door. “We’ll walk out with these Detectives, Cassandra,” she said clearly for
their benefit. “It’s getting dark outside. We need to get back to the hotel
before we lose our dinner reservations.”
Gorduno and Baxter followed them out the door, across the front
gallery, down the steps and onto the cracked concrete driveway.
“Both of you are staying at a hotel?” Detective Baxter asked
casually.
“We can be reached at The Marlin,” Dorothy acknowledged. “Detective
Gorduno has the information.”
Baxter’s voice had come from behind, but not very far away.
Also coming from behind was a faint click . . . click . . .
click . . . that paced their footsteps. Cassie wondered if one of the cops had
a rock stuck in the bottom of his shoe.
Chapter Six
Gorduno’s unmarked sedan was behind the rented Explorer. Even
in the semi-glow of streetlight, Cassie could make out side-mounted spotlights
and a dash-mounted strobe.
It was not a good idea to make a U-turn in front of the cops,
so she drove away from Baylin House going straight ahead.
“You have to go back to West Bend to connect with Bayside
Boulevard, Cassandra,” Dorothy reminded.
Cassie rolled her eyes, wondering why it bothered her so
much that Dorothy had this need to have complete control; it really was Dorothy’s
problem.
“The police are still behind us,” Cassie told her.
Dorothy glanced into the side mirror on her door and nodded
quietly; Cassie took that to mean she had Dorothy’s permission.
She turned right at the first cross street; the unmarked
car’s headlights followed. Two blocks later she turned right again, onto Mayfair
Boulevard, and again the tan sedan stayed right behind them.
The signal at West Bend was visible now; the digital clock
in the Explorer’s dashboard said 8:06; Cassie had not realized they were at
Baylin House that long. Dorothy must be tired; maybe that made her temper brittle.
The signal changed. Cassie made the left turn, and then kept
one eye on the speedometer, the other on traffic; the Detectives were still on her
bumper.
“What time is our appointment with Rosalie tomorrow
morning?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay a normal tone.
“Eight o’clock. Bea will have her up and bathed and ready by
then, so please be sure you’re ready to leave the hotel by seven-thirty.” Dorothy’s
tone was audibly strained.
“Yes I will thanks.”
“My body stays on Florida time,” Dorothy said next, a little
less strained, more like glib. Maybe everything she said just grated on Cassie’s
nerves. “I’ll have room service breakfast when I wake. You might want to put in
your order tonight for delivery quickly when you get up. With your body on
Nevada time, they may already have more than an hour backlog for service by the
time you’re awake.”
“Ok,” Cassie acknowledged.
Dorothy grunted something under her breath. Cassie ignored
it.
After that they were both quiet for half a mile or so. When Dorothy
spoke again there was high frustration in her tone. “Cassandra, I must tell you
I’m very disappointed in you trying to become involved with police business
this evening.”
Cassie clamped her teeth knowing the response she really
wanted to make would be a big mistake.
“Those men are Homicide Detectives investigating a murder,
and it’s pretty clear they suspect Brady Irwin had something to do with it. I
won’t hazard a guess whether he is capable of that sort of thing. No matter how
much Rosalie thinks she controls her little collection of Frankenstein Monsters
from Oakwood -- retarded people are not always one-hundred percent predictable.
Whatever problem
That took everyone by surprise. Dorothy recovered quickly. “We’ll
be back on time for our appointment in the morning, Bea,” she said. “You can
call me at the hotel if you need anything before then.”
Dorothy snagged Cassie’s arm and turned toward the front
door. “We’ll walk out with these Detectives, Cassandra,” she said clearly for
their benefit. “It’s getting dark outside. We need to get back to the hotel
before we lose our dinner reservations.”
Gorduno and Baxter followed them out the door, across the front
gallery, down the steps and onto the cracked concrete driveway.
“Both of you are staying at a hotel?” Detective Baxter asked
casually.
“We can be reached at The Marlin,” Dorothy acknowledged. “Detective
Gorduno has the information.”
Baxter’s voice had come from behind, but not very far away.
Also coming from behind was a faint click . . . click . . .
click . . . that paced their footsteps. Cassie wondered if one of the cops had
a rock stuck in the bottom of his shoe.
Chapter Six
Gorduno’s unmarked sedan was behind the rented Explorer. Even
in the semi-glow of streetlight, Cassie could make out side-mounted spotlights
and a dash-mounted strobe.
It was not a good idea to make a U-turn in front of the cops,
so she drove away from Baylin House going straight ahead.
“You have to go back to West Bend to connect with Bayside
Boulevard, Cassandra,” Dorothy reminded.
Cassie rolled her eyes, wondering why it bothered her so
much that Dorothy had this need to have complete control; it really was Dorothy’s
problem.
“The police are still behind us,” Cassie told her.
Dorothy glanced into the side mirror on her door and nodded
quietly; Cassie took that to mean she had Dorothy’s permission.
She turned right at the first cross street; the unmarked
car’s headlights followed. Two blocks later she turned right again, onto Mayfair
Boulevard, and again the tan sedan stayed right behind them.
The signal at West Bend was visible now; the digital clock
in the Explorer’s dashboard said 8:06; Cassie had not realized they were at
Baylin House that long. Dorothy must be tired; maybe that made her temper brittle.
The signal changed. Cassie made the left turn, and then kept
one eye on the speedometer, the other on traffic; the Detectives were still on her
bumper.
“What time is our appointment with Rosalie tomorrow
morning?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay a normal tone.
“Eight o’clock. Bea will have her up and bathed and ready by
then, so please be sure you’re ready to leave the hotel by seven-thirty.” Dorothy’s
tone was audibly strained.
“Yes I will thanks.”
“My body stays on Florida time,” Dorothy said next, a little
less strained, more like glib. Maybe everything she said just grated on Cassie’s
nerves. “I’ll have room service breakfast when I wake. You might want to put in
your order tonight for delivery quickly when you get up. With your body on
Nevada time, they may already have more than an hour backlog for service by the
time you’re awake.”
“Ok,” Cassie acknowledged.
Dorothy grunted something under her breath. Cassie ignored
it.
After that they were both quiet for half a mile or so. When Dorothy
spoke again there was high frustration in her tone. “Cassandra, I must tell you
I’m very disappointed in you trying to become involved with police business
this evening.”
Cassie clamped her teeth knowing the response she really
wanted to make would be a big mistake.
“Those men are Homicide Detectives investigating a murder,
and it’s pretty clear they suspect Brady Irwin had something to do with it. I
won’t hazard a guess whether he is capable of that sort of thing. No matter how
much Rosalie thinks she controls her little collection of Frankenstein Monsters
from Oakwood -- retarded people are not always one-hundred percent predictable.
Whatever problem
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