The Next To Die Part 26

A pair of fuzzy dice dangled from the rearview mirror of the blue '89 Chrysler LeBaron. It pulled into the Reservations Only s.p.a.ce in front of Debbie's Paradise View Motor Inn. Things were slow at the front desk. Amber had her nose in a Cosmopolitan Cosmopolitan quiz, "Are You Getting the Most out of Masturbation?" quiz, "Are You Getting the Most out of Masturbation?"

She glanced up from her magazine as the driver of the LeBaron stepped into the lobby. With his mustache, receding gray-brown hair, and windburned face, he looked like a cowboy. He wore a denim jacket and tan sans-a-belt pants that rode low under his belly. He leaned against the counter. "I need Nick Brock's room number, honey."

Setting down her magazine, Amber consulted the guest file. "Brock?" she asked, snapping her gum. "There's n.o.body here by that name."

"You sure? Maybe he checked in under an alias."

Amber simply shrugged.

"Good-looking guy, about thirty, my height. Black hair-"

"OmiG.o.d, yeah, sure," Amber said with a smile. "Nick Brock. I remember thinking he didn't use the same name when he checked in." She grabbed a Playgirl Playgirl from the magazine rack, then flipped through the pages until she found Nick Brock's b.u.t.t shot. She set the open magazine on the counter, under the man's nose. "Is this the guy you mean?" Amber asked. from the magazine rack, then flipped through the pages until she found Nick Brock's b.u.t.t shot. She set the open magazine on the counter, under the man's nose. "Is this the guy you mean?" Amber asked.

Sean felt as if she'd made a couple of friends this evening. Sheila Weber was a salt-of-the-earth type. Sean recalled going through that same stage of pregnancy, and Sheila lapped up the advice. George was cute, congenial, and obviously a wonderful friend to Avery. The Webers insisted that they stay for dinner. Sheila made a terrific chicken pasta.

Sean had to remind herself that the Webers were tight with Avery and his wife. There was no room for a fifth wheel.

Still, tonight had been special, and for a few minutes she'd stopped worrying about respirators and catheters. She hadn't thought about conspiracies and grand juries. She'd actually fooled herself for a while, and felt like part of a normal couple again.

They were now on their way to the park, where Avery's mystery woman had scratched his face. Sean had a tiny buzz from the Chianti the Webers had served with dinner. She glanced over at Avery in the driver's seat, watching the road ahead. She studied his profile, the strong jawline, and those long eyelashes. He was playing a tape of seventies music. He'd brought it to his wife in the hospital, but she hadn't wanted it.

Out of respect for James Taylor, and "Fire and Rain," neither of them talked. Sean sat quietly, enjoying the pretty drive along the coast. The cool air smelled sweet through the car window.

Avery pulled off the highway to a little alcove with six parking s.p.a.ces. "This is it," he announced. He hopped out of the car, and hurried around to open the door for her. The wind had kicked up. Sean rubbed her arms from the chill. Avery dug a flannel-lined jacket out of the backseat, then placed it on her shoulders. They strolled down to the park benches and a little stone wall. The Pacific stretched out before them, rippling and moonlit.

"I watched the sunset that night," Avery said. "So it was earlier."

"When we go back to the car, remind me to call the weather bureau and find out what time the sun set on the fourteenth."

Avery nodded. "I stayed until dark, I remember." He pointed to a path by the rock wall. "That's where the woman came from. The trail dips down, then comes up to the other side of the parking alcove."

"Did you hear a car?"

"Yes. She asked if I was Avery Cooper. I heard the car. Then when I turned for a moment, she scratched my face."

"Was this car parked where yours is now?"

"Yes. But I don't recall the car type. It could have been a rental type. I'm not sure. I remember it was white. I was kind of dazed, and I didn't think to look for the license plate."

Sean glanced over at the small parking lot. "You couldn't have seen it very well from here anyway."

"You look cold," he said. "Why don't you put your arms in the sleeves?" Stepping in back of her, Avery helped her on with his jacket again. It carried a subtle musky fragrance she'd come to identify with him. "The zipper's a little tricky," he said, turning her around. "Let me help you."

Sean let him zip up the front of his jacket. He pinched and tugged at it for a moment. The jacket was roomy, its cuffs covering her knuckles. Without thinking, Sean reached up and touched his cheek. "You can barely see the scratch anymore," she said.

His eyes met hers. Avery hesitated, then smiled. Her fingertips lingered on his handsome face. She was filled with such longing and tenderness. She ached inside.

Sean made herself turn away. She swept back her windblown hair, and gazed out at the water. "It's beautiful here," she said. "But there's something-I don't know-very lonely about this spot. Didn't you say you often stop by here?"

Avery nodded.

"It's funny. Your public persona is one of this carefree, light-hearted guy. But there's a sadness in you-and I think it's been with you a long time. These last few days have been like a crash course in getting to know you, Avery. I learned a lot tonight. I really like your friends." She realized she was babbling, but couldn't help herself. "They-they'll make excellent character witnesses."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Finally, Avery turned away and glanced at the ocean. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Is there anything else you need to ask me about that night?" he said.

"No," she replied. "Not right now. We can go if you'd like."

They went back to the car, and he opened the door for her. Sean touched his arm. "Thanks, Avery," she whispered. Then she climbed inside.

As he started up the car, the James Taylor song came on again. Avery backed out of the parking spot. Neither of them said a word. The seventies tape serenaded them, and Sean kept her head turned toward the window, so he couldn't see the tears in her eyes.

They didn't notice any rental cars following them on their way back to her office. Avery had broken the awkward silence by talking about the case. He kept it all business. They parked behind the hair salon, and used the service entrance into the building. Avery carried Sean's briefcase for her.

In the dimly lit upstairs corridor, Sean fished the keys from her purse, opened the office door, and switched on the light. She headed for the fax machine. "The photos your friend made for us are in my briefcase-in the blue folder on top."

On the security video, they'd spotted three different cars parked at various times in front of Avery's house; rental-company favorites: a Taurus and two Corsicas. They'd enlisted the help of a starstruck, young videophile from production named Jamie. He'd blown up and enhanced three video images, each showing the cars' plate numbers.

Avery found Jamie's photos in the blue folder, while Sean examined the latest incoming fax. Dayle had scribbled on the cover sheet: Dear Sean,Hope this is what you need. Attached is the list you originally gave me on a fax from my private detective friend. He's in Idaho, following this up. I'm home if you want to call. Don't show this list to the police until you've talked to me. Okay?Take Care, Dayle Sean glanced at Nick Brock's note to Dayle, scribbled below the list of license plate numbers. He'd traced credit card payments for the rental cars to a PO Box 73 in Opal, Idaho. He was on his way there to stake out the post office. If Dayle needed him, he was registered as Tony Manero at Debbie's Paradise View Motor Inn in Opal.

"Does the name Tony Manero Tony Manero sound familiar?" Sean asked. sound familiar?" Sean asked.

Avery shut her briefcase, and bought the photos over to her. "Wasn't that John Travolta's character in Sat.u.r.day Night Fever? Sat.u.r.day Night Fever?"

She nodded. "Huh, figures." Sean laid the photos down on her desk beside the listing. Two plate numbers matched: a Corsica, AOB-829, and a Taurus, EMK-903. Sean and Avery were both quiet for a moment, hunched over the desk together, shoulders touching. Finally, she patted his back. "At the very least, we've established some reasonable doubt, Avery."

"Thank G.o.d," he sighed, laughing. He slid his arm around Sean, and pulled her closer. "You're beautiful. You really are...."

For a moment, Sean's whole body stiffened, and she could tell he sensed it. Except for the occasional consolation hug from her brother-in-law, she hadn't felt a man's arms around her for more than a year. And now this sweet, attractive man was holding her. "Um, Avery, I-"

"Oh, sorry," he said, stepping back. "I didn't mean to get so-enthusiastic."

"It's okay," she said awkwardly. "But I think we ought to call it a night. Maybe I can make it home in time to tuck my kids into bed."

"Oh, yeah, good idea," he said.

Sean took a deep breath, then started to put the papers in her briefcase. "Maybe you should spend the night at your friends' house. You shouldn't be alone. These same people tried to kill Dayle two nights ago. We have to be careful, Avery."

"Yeah, I know. George and Sheila are expecting me back." He moved toward the door. "I'll walk you down to your car."

Sean felt herself blus.h.i.+ng. She wished she hadn't pulled away earlier. She wanted so much for him to hold her again-just for a moment. But she could never tell him that.

She closed her briefcase. "Yes," she said resolutely. "We both have to be very careful, Avery."

Twenty.

George and Sheila's guest room was like his home away from home, and sleep should have come easily. But Avery had been tossing and turning for hours. He glanced at the nightstand clock for umpteenth time: 3:27 A.M. A.M. The house was quiet. He'd heard Sheila a while ago, padding to and from the bathroom. As she recently pointed out, she was peeing for two now. The house was quiet. He'd heard Sheila a while ago, padding to and from the bathroom. As she recently pointed out, she was peeing for two now.

It seemed so long ago that Joanne was healthy and they were trying to get pregnant. He remembered how she'd appeared to him on the balcony that morning he'd been swimming, how she'd dropped her robe and stood before him naked. It was hard to connect that s.e.xy, fun woman with the catatonic he'd had committed to an inst.i.tution three days ago.

His dad had asked if Joanne would be out by Thanksgiving-only a week away. Not very likely. He wasn't even sure if she'd be home in time for Christmas. He couldn't imagine the holidays without her. Even when they'd had conflicting schedules, Joanne and he had always managed to spend Christmas Eve together. It was quite possible that he'd be spending the Yuletide in a federal prison-and Joanne would still be in that place. Think you're lonely, scared, and hopeless right now? Just wait a few weeks.... Think you're lonely, scared, and hopeless right now? Just wait a few weeks....

Avery sat up, switched on the light, and reached for the phone. Maybe all he needed was to hear another person's voice, any familiar voice. He dialed home and listened to the messages he'd forgotten to retrieve last night. His agent and Steve Bensinger had left messages, and so had his parents.

He didn't know what to make of the last call-at 9:52 P.M. P.M.: "h.e.l.lo, Avery Cooper? This is Gene Clavey. I'm a technical a.n.a.lyst here at Kurtis Labs. I recently examined your sperm samples for Dr. Nathan. Your attorney was asking some questions around here yesterday. I'm curious about a few things. We might help each other out. Why don't you give me a call?"

He tried Gene Clavey's office number at 8:45. Hunched over the Webers' breakfast table with his second cup of coffee, Avery anxiously counted four ring tones until a man answered: "Kurtis Labs, this is Gene."

"h.e.l.lo, Gene Clavey? This is Avery Cooper returning your call."

"Oh, h.e.l.lo," the man replied tentatively. There was an awkward pause.

"Can you talk right now?" Avery asked.

"No, not really."

"Why? Is someone there?"

"Oh, yeah, you bet," he replied cheerfully.

"You have information about the sperm samples?"

"That's right."

"Tell me this much. Did all those sperm samples match?"

"Not right now. But lunch would be great-if you're buying. How about meeting me at Pink's Famous Chili Dogs on Melrose? Say eleven-thirty to beat the crowd?"

"Can I bring my lawyer?" Avery asked.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Do you know what I look like?"

"Of course. See ya at Pink's. Take it easy."

There was a click on the other end of the line.

"Was anyone following you?" Sean asked. She locked her office door, and they started down the corridor toward the back stairs.

"Yeah, but I think I lost him." Avery reached for Sean's briefcase.

"I got it, thanks," she said, briskly. Sean had a strange, all-business energy about her this morning. And she'd barely even made eye contact with him so far. "I've been a busy girl," she announced, starting up the car and backing out of the s.p.a.ce. "I called your Dr. Nathan. He faxed me a list of employees at the clinic and the lab-everyone who had access to your sperm samples. Gene Clavey is on the list, so he's no phony. I think he's this overweight man I saw there the other day." From the alley, she merged into traffic. "Six employees have either been let go or quit since you and Joanne started going to the clinic. If those samples were tampered with, my guess is that one of these six 'former employees' is the responsible party."

She glanced in her rearview mirror. "By the way, keep your eyes peeled for any 'rental mentals.'"

"Will do." Avery checked the side mirror, and didn't see anything.

"I called that hotel in Idaho where Dayle's detective pal is staying," Sean went on. "But he wasn't in. How much further to this Chili Dog place?"

"A few more blocks," Avery said. He stole a glance at her. "Are you okay, Sean? You seem a bit distant this morning."

"I'm fine," she answered, staring straight ahead. "I actually cooked pancakes for my kids before they went to school. And my husband slept through the night. So I have no complaints. How's your wife doing?"

"Better. She let one of the nurses feed her some dinner last night. I'll know more this afternoon when I call for an update." He caught her eye and smiled sadly. "It's ironic we got thrown together-with our similar situations."

"I don't know what you mean," she said coolly.

"Well, sure you do. In fact, I think that's why we're drawn to each other. I understand what you're going through, because our situations-"

"I don't agree at all," Sean said, eyes on the road.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your wife has been sick, what, a week? And she has a very good chance of getting well. My husband won't be getting well. For the past year, he hasn't been able to walk, eat, breathe, s.h.i.+t, or pee without some kind of a.s.sistance. In all that time, I haven't heard him laugh or say my name. He can't even squeeze my hand. Our situations are different, Avery."

He stared at her. "I didn't mean to offend you. I just-"

"I'm your attorney, Avery," she continued. "I don't need you understanding me-or trying to understand me. My job here-my main concern-is proving your innocence in this murder case. Can we please keep this on a professional level?"

Frowning, Avery sat back. "I didn't know it was against the rules for us to be friends." He nodded at the upscale greasy spoon on the corner of Melrose, half a block away. "That's Pink's Chili Dogs on your right."

Sean steered into the parking lot. She didn't say anything, and neither did he. They climbed out of the car, and walked around the squat chrome, gla.s.s, and neon diner to the front entrance.

"Mr. Cooper?"

Both Avery and Sean turned. A rotund man waved at them from one of the outside picnic tables. The sun reflected off his gla.s.ses, and illuminated the sweat on his forehead. He had a beard, and wild, curly strawberry-blond hair that needed tr.i.m.m.i.n.g. He took up nearly half a picnic bench, which seemed ready to splinter from the strain.