Read Online Dating Dead Men by Harley Jane Kozak - Free Book Online

friend, the inebriated woman, had disappeared.
    I said, “Where are you parked? I vote we go into Kinko's and sneak out the front entrance, get to your car, and worry about the Rabbit later.”
    â€œI don't have a car.”
    â€œWhat do you mean—what are we doing here?”
    He nodded across the street. “The bus stop.”
    â€œYou take the bus?” Number four, I thought, Has Car.
    â€œI have to get back to the hospital; I'm trying to spring someone.” He set Margaret on the ground. She reached the end of her leash, and he reeled her back.
    â€œYou're saying you got to Rio Pescado today by
bus
?” I asked.
    â€œYou think buses exist just to annoy cars?” He looked across the lot again.
    â€œNo, listen—you're right, you do need my car. I'll give you a ride, I have to go back to the hospital tomorrow—today, actu-ally.”
    He turned. “You can't go there. You'll be a police flyer by tomorrow, as a kidnap victim.”
    I stared at him. “My God. But I have to—I mean, how am I going to—?”
    He held up a hand.
    The car came into view.
    It traveled with the speed of a funeral cortege. It passed under a floodlight, revealing itself as a sporty little thing with a canvas top. It reached the smattering of cars in front of Vons and slowed further, as though taking down license plates.
    â€œWhat is that, an Alfa Romeo?” Doc asked. The car made a forty-five-degree turn, and headed toward us like a heat-seeking missile.
    I flattened myself against the brick. “I don't know. I'm not a car person.”
    â€œThere's a surprise.” He put a reassuring hand on my knee. “It's dark; they won't see us.”
    The slow, inexorable approach was excruciating. I was reminded of tanks in World War II movies. My legs shook and I abandoned my squatting position to sit, feeling the cold cement seep through my cotton flannel skirt. “Look,” I said, “if I can't go back to the hospital, you can't either.”
    â€œI'm in different clothes.” He kept his attention on the car. “I'll shave, I'll speak Spanish, they won't know it's me.”
    â€œWell, I can change too, disguise my—”
    â€œNo, you can't. There's only one of you. How many six-foot blondes—”
    â€œFive eleven and seven-eighths,” I said. If I slouched. He had a point, though. Already he was a far cry, visually, from the doctor in the scrub suit. It wasn't just the tuxedo; he had a chameleon quality that I lacked.
    The Alfa Romeo passed under lights again, showing two passengers, of indeterminate age and gender. “Good,” Doc said. “Come on, come on . . . Let's see your license number.”
    Let's not, I thought. I did not enjoy hide-and-seek with sinister sports cars. My intrepid friend Joey would consider this a good time, but not me. And what would we do with a license? Call the police, report slow driving?
    The Alfa Romeo made a sharp right and I let out a breath. The thought of police led me back to my brother. P.B. would be okay without me; he had his aluminum foil, more vital to his peace of mind than my presence. I just had to figure out how to keep him away from the murder investigation. Maybe I could arrange for him to visit Uncle Theo for a few days and—
    The Alfa Romeo stopped. Five parking spaces away from the Rabbit.
    â€œWhat are they doing?” I whispered.
    â€œWondering where we are. My guess is, they were too far away to see you run me over, but they recognize your car. I lost them for a minute on the exit ramp, then they got lucky.”
    My poor, defenseless Rabbit. “For the record,” I said, “rather than ‘spring' someone from Rio Pescado, you might try going through channels; the staff is surprisingly human. But say you do it your way: What then? Wait for the getaway bus? Hide in the woods, live on leaves? If you're determined to break the law, you really will need my