The Lake

Finito. No more midnight runs.

Door key confiscated.

Chained to the bed—till Mace nails Nelson…

Yeah. Great.

Like sometime, never—that’s when Mace’ll nail Nelson. Just so he can hang around Mom some more. If Nelson’s still around to nail, that is.

“Mom. Was Mace here last night?”

“I told you he was, dear.”

“Yeah, I know he visited last night, Mom. Like late. But when did he leave? Did he spend the night here?”

Leigh blushed.

Deana cringed. She hated embarrassing her mom like this.

“Okay, Deana. Yes. He called me after you’d gone to bed. And we talked…

“In the end, as we had so much to discuss, I asked him to come on over.”

“Mom!”

Her hunch was right, then.

Mace had been in the house when she came back from seeing Warren.

Could be they were both awake when I arrived home.

In the early hours.

Two twenty-five, to be precise.

Christ!

So Mace could’ve heard me come in!

But Mom hadn’t?

If she had, she’d have asked me about it first thing this morning.

“Where did he get the flowers from?” Deana demanded, borrowing time, not quite knowing what to say next. “That time of night?”

“Woke up old Fess Winters, the florist on Main Street. Told him he wanted the biggest bunch of the most expensive flowers he’d got. And here they are. Mace is so romantic, isn’t he?”

Yeah. A pretty impulsive guy.

Bet Old Man Winters thought so, too.

Nice going, Mace.

No wonder Mom looks so dreamy, so starry-eyed this morning.

Orchids for the lady.

I think I’m gonna throw up.

THIRTY

When Leigh left for the restaurant, Deana leafed through the telephone directory for Warren’s home number.

She came up with zilch. Ditto the Eureka Bookstore.

Should have asked him for his card.

Would’ve made things a whole lot easier.

Well, I didn’t, did I?

Good thing, too.

I can see it now…

Phone up this guy you hardly know, tell him the detective from Mill Valley PD stayed with Mom last night. Remember, the one I told you about? Yeah, that one.

And he’d say, “Okay? So what business is this of mine? Moms have a right to private lives, too, y’know.”

Deana replaced the phone book in its alcove.

Wandering aimlessly into the living room, she stared through the glass wall at the panorama below.

The day spread out before her like an empty, rainwashed sky.

What shall I do?

Read a book?

What book?

How about I ring Eureka and order, say, Get Shorty by Elmore Leonard.

The mad adventures of small-time Miami loan shark Chili Palmer, Miss…er, sorry, I didn’t catch your name?

Yes. That’s the one. Please express it over to me.

Oh, and thanks for your trouble, Mr. Hastings.

Or maybe she should watch daytime TV?

Yawn.

A video?

There’s always Reservoir Dogs.

She’d seen it before. Twice.

Good film, but boring old diamond heists and Harvey Keitel weren’t exactly what she was looking for right now.

What about…

She rushed to the hallway. Grabbed the phone book and looked up “Hastings.”

Dummy!

Warren was new to Del Mar a couple of days ago, so his name wouldn’t be listed yet.

Three blocks away. That would probably make it in the three hundred and sixties…

And under the name of the last occupant.

She’d never work it out that way.

Shit.

Maybe she had enough to occupy her mind, thinking about Mace calling Mom, telling her I was out last night…

Leigh, darling. Did you know your daughter was out there on Del Mar, seeing some guy?

He’d just love that…

As she went to her bedroom, Deana pictured Warren’s kitchen. Cozy. Friendly. Smelling of pot roast…

And Sabre, harboring dark thoughts beneath the kitchen sink.

Some dog, that.

Dangerous.

At least he rescued my cap for me.

Cap.

She’d tossed it, and her black sweats, into the hamper. They sure could do with a wash, after all that excitement.

Probably stink like hell.

“That’s what I’ll do while Mom’s out,” she decided. “Wash my black things. Get them dried and put away before she sees them.”

Deana opened the hamper. Dragged out her sweats.

Her knitted cap fell to the floor.

So did Warren’s card.

Showing his business address and a scribbled phone number on the reverse.

His home number!

“Eureka!”

Must have put it inside her cap before he handed it to her. When he scrabbled about in the cupboard under the kitchen sink.

Smart guy.

Now what?

Call the number, dummy. Even if he’s not home, his sister will be…

A squirm of excitement stirred between her legs.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a boring day after all.

Do it, Deana. Go for it.

She sat on the bed, dialing out the number on her extension line.

Brrinngg…Brrinngg.

“Yeah. The Hastings residence…”

The woman’s voice was deep, brisk. Businesslike.

For someone who didn’t get home till five-thirty a.m., this sure was some together lady…

“Er…May I speak with Warren, please?”

“Who’s asking.” A statement. Not a question.

“A friend. Just say, the midnight runner. He’ll know who it is.”

At the other end, Sheena gasped. A shiver played up and down her spine.