Part 18 (1/2)
”Fairly sure, and so am I. I took a gander out the window a minute ago and there's a car there now that's new to the usual scenery. Phil thinks they're waiting for you to come back for your own.”
”Good conclusion. I'm just surprised that Braxton thinks I need it.”
”What do you mean?”
”Considering his expertise, he's more likely to suspect me of traveling around as a bat or a wolf.”
She giggled. ”They might miss a bat, but a wolf's kinda noticeable out on the sidewalk.”
”Maybe I should reeducate him. What do you think?”
”I think I'm going to take a cab to the studio.”
”I'm sorry, I know I promised-”
”Oh, don't be a sap, this is an emergency. Oops, I just remembered, some woman named Gaylen called a minute ago. You running around on me?”
”Never. What'd she want?”
”For you to come by and see her tonight. Who is she?”
”It's something I'm working on with Charles. He's out of town, so I gave her your number for daytime calls.”
”Wish you'd told me.”
”We were kind of busy... Did she say anything else?”
”Nope. You going to tune in and listen to me?”
”I'll be at the studio. I wouldn't miss it for the world.”
”But what if Braxton follows me there?”
”Don't worry, I'll have taken care of him by then.”
”But what if you miss him?”
”I said don't worry. You aren't going there alone, are you?”
”No, Marza's coming with me.”
”Then G.o.d help Braxton if I do miss him.”
”Oh, Jack.” She was exasperated. ”The man is trying to kill you.”
”He won't. I'm only trying to keep him from hurting others.””And I don't give a d.a.m.n about others”-she cut off a moment and collected herself-”I'm worried about you.”
”And about that broadcast, too. All this mess came at a bad time for you. Try to calm down and think about how great you'll be tonight. You don't have to worry about me, you know I'll be fine.” I put a lot of confidence in my tone and it worked.
We said a few things and she gave me directions to the studio twice and I told her to break a leg. It was a phrase picked up from Escott and apparently applied to all performers because she was glad to hear it.
I hung up and dialed Gaylen. She was upset because Braxton had been calling her, and now she wanted to see me. The little b.a.s.t.a.r.d was becoming a real nuisance.
”I'm pretty tied up tonight...” I was also reluctant to face another emotion-laden talk with her.
”Not even for a little while? Please?”
A supernatural softy, that's me. Besides, she might have some useful news. ”It may take me awhile to get there, and I can't stay long.”
”I understand, I'd really appreciate it.”
The schedule would be tight. Bobbi's broadcast was at ten and I was stuck in the house until quarter to eight, or at least until Escott's delivery came. In between I had to have a heart-to-heart with Braxton, and then go hold Gaylen's hand. If things went right I could go home with Bobbi, enjoy the party she was throwing, and still have time to visit the Stockyards.
It looked like a busy night ahead, and I wanted to get on with it; the waiting chafed at me like starched underwear. I filled in some of the time by cleaning up and changing clothes, but with that out of the way, the minutes dragged. At five to eight I was annoyed, and at a quarter after I was ready to strangle the driver.
Twenty after the hour a truck finally rolled into the street, stopped two doors down, and backed up. The guy inside squinted at house numbers. I went outside and he asked if I were Mr. Escott. To save him confusion I said yes, unintentionally puzzling any neighbors taking in air on their front steps. We gave them a good show and lugged several crates off the truck and into the narrow hall. He didn't say much, which suited me, and I signed Escott's name to the sheet on his clipboard. He gave me a receipt and drove off.
There was one last obligation and I was free. The operator put a call through to Escott's hotel, and then asked their operator to connect me to Escott.
”I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Escott is not here.”
”Then I'll leave a message for him.”
”I'm sorry, but he has checked out.””What?”
”Yes, sir, earlier today. He left Kingsburg as his forwarding address.”
Now, why the h.e.l.l was he running upstate to a little backwater like Kingsburg?
Gaylen hadn't mentioned the name. He was probably returning something to one of the many blackmail victims on that list. ”Did he leave any messages for a Jack Fleming?”
”No, sir. No messages at all.”
I hung up and pessimistically wondered what was wrong.
My visit with Gaylen was going to be brief, so I told the cabby to wait. He rolled an eye at the meter and agreeably turned me down, having been stiffed once too many in the past.
She was waiting at her door and I apologized for being so long.
”I'm just glad that you could come by.” She eased painfully into her chair.
Nothing had significantly changed since yesterday, except for some watercolor paints scattered on a table with some brushes and a gla.s.s of gray water. A wrinkled sheet of paper taped to a board was drying next to it all. I expressed some interest, which warmed her.
”It's only a hobby, just to pa.s.s the time,” she demurred, but held it up for inspection. The light gleamed off some damp patches. There was no model in the room of the pink, blue, and yellow flowers on the paper, so it had come out of her own head. As in most amateur efforts, it was noticeably flat, but the colors looked nice, so I complimented her and knew from her reaction that she would someday make a gift of it to me.
”Sorry I got held up, but I really don't have a lot of time,” I explained.
She took it without visible disappointment, because some-thing else was on her mind. ”That Braxton man tried to get in to talk with me. I had to have the manager throw him out.”
”That's good. I'm very sorry you were bothered.”