“Brace yourself. It’s not good news. I’ll be right back.”
While Melody read the note, Drake went to the reception desk. He fidgeted impatiently while the clerk took care of a man who was checking out. He finally got her attention.
“The envelope you gave me? Who gave it to you?”
“It was here when I came in at five. I think it came in on Peter’s shift.”
“Where’s Peter?”
“He left at six.”
“So he’s home now?”
“Probably. He sleeps during the day.”
“I need to talk to him. Can you ring him for me?”
The clerk looked dubious. “He might be asleep.”
“He left less than an hour ago. He’s probably eating breakfast or something. Please. This is very important.”
People were lining up at the counter to check out. The clerk apparently decided it was faster to give in than to argue. She checked a list and dialed a number. After a pause she said, “Peter? Hang on. Mr. Drake wants to speak to you.”
She handed the receiver across the counter to Drake. He put it to his ear. “Hello, Peter?”
“Yes.”
“This is Oliver Drake. You were given an envelope to give me?”
“Oh…right.”
“What time was that?”
“Let’s see. Johnny Carson had ended. I was doing some paperwork. It must have been about midnight.”
“Can you describe the person who gave it to you?”
“Not very well. He-or maybe she-I’m not even sure which, was wearing a sweatshirt with a hood and dark glasses. Jeans, tennies. Not too tall, slim build. I didn’t see any hair, because it was covered by the hood. The face was smooth-young looking.”
“Did he-or she-speak to you?”
“No. He came running into the motel like he was trying to catch a bus, handed the envelope to me, and ran out again without saying a word.”
“Did you see a car or anything?”
“No. He disappeared. I was so surprised that I followed him to the door, but by the time I got outside, he was out of sight.”
“You said the face was smooth and young looking. Like that of a young man or woman?”
“Yeah, either one.”
“You didn’t see any lipstick or anything?”
“Nope. I’m not saying she wasn’t wearing lipstick. I didn’t get a good look at the face. It happened so fast.”
“Did you notice anything else about the person?”
“He sure could run fast. That’s about it.”
“Okay, Peter. Thanks for your help. If you think of anything more, could you call…Giganticorp-you must have their corporate number-and leave a message for Oliver Drake of Running California? Leave a number where you can be reached in the evening, and I’ll call you back.”
“After ten I’m usually at the motel. I work the night shift.”
Drake said good-bye and hung up. He turned and found Melody at his elbow. He had been so absorbed in the call that he hadn’t seen her approach. Her face looked ashen under her tan. They needed to talk, but not here with people milling around, including some of the runners.
“Let’s go next door to the cafe.”
He took her arm and guided her out of the motel. A few minutes later they were seated at a booth that promised some privacy as long as they kept their voices low. He ordered orange juice, scrambled eggs, and toast for Melody-she appeared to be in shock-and coffee and a bigger breakfast, including bacon and potatoes, for himself.
Melody, who had been clutching the piece of paper, laid it on the table. “Do you think this is a prank?”
“If so, the prankster has a lot of information about us, including where your mother lives. I think we have to treat it as real. The first thing we can do is stay in the run. By carrying out the instructions, we hopefully protect your mother.”
And give Melody some piece of mind.
“I want to call my mum and see if she’s all right.”
“I don’t know if we can make overseas calls from the motel. Fred should be able to set it up for us. If necessary, he can patch it through Giganticorp. We can tell him your mother’s been sick. I don’t think we should tell him about the note yet until we have some more information about who it’s from. The writer said not to.”
When they had worked together fighting Communism, they had operated on the premise that they couldn’t trust anyone. That was probably a good approach to follow here.
“How are we going to get that information?”
“After we get to our next stop, I’ll call a guy in D.C. I worked with, see if he’s familiar with any betting syndicates. He’s the only one still working there that I trust.”
“I wish we’d been able to reach my mum.”
“She was probably out in her garden. She has such a beautiful garden. We’ll try again this afternoon.”
“Not too late. There’s an eight-hour time difference. If we call at four it’ll be midnight in England. She likes to get her sleep. If I wake her, she’ll think I’m in trouble.”
Drake was trying to keep Melody from worrying about her mother. Just because she didn’t answer her phone didn’t mean that something had happened to her. However, he wished that she had been home.
It was another beautiful day in Southern California. They ran close to the water because the sand was firmer where the high tide had packed it down. Drake’s back had loosened up just a hair, and they were moving faster today than they had yesterday. Flocks of seagulls rose into the air as they approached, and sandpipers scooted out of the way.
They still weren’t close to the other runners. After Grace started them at the bottom of the cliff-Fred had declined to walk down it-the other nine teams quickly ran away from them and eventually disappeared from view. They ran in a posse, as Fred had said, apparently content to stay together for the time being.
Melody glanced at Drake. “You look a bit more like your old self with the bandage off. Your nose is discolored and swollen, though. I don’t know whether you’ll ever be as beautiful as you were.”
He had taken the bandage off before they started the run. “I was tired of wearing that damned thing. I felt like a cripple. That’s a luxury I can’t afford now. Just don’t hit me in the nose.”
“I really appreciate you not quitting. As least we’re abiding by the terms of the letter. I hope it isn’t too hard on you.”
“I’ll survive. I don’t want anything to happen to your mother. Unfortunately, it’s not a long-term solution. Either of us could twist an ankle at any time and not be able to run at all.” Drake was silent for a minute. “One way to keep my mind off my body is to see what we can deduce. For example, the letter is full of grammatical and spelling errors. It was written by somebody whose English isn’t great. A foreigner.”
“Be careful how you speak about us foreigners. Or, it could be somebody who wants us to think he’s a foreigner. Did you notice the incongruity? Even with all the errors, the typing itself is perfect.”
“No typos except the spelling errors, which are consistent. No cross-outs. No evidence that the typist even used that white liquid they use to cover errors. An experienced typist did it, but not necessarily one who knows proper English. And it looks like it’s been typed on a good typewriter, like an IBM Selectric.”
“You mean the one with the bouncing ball?”
“Right. Most business offices use them.”
“He knew where my mum lives.”
“He knows a lot about you. He’s got connections, whoever he is. He knows where we’re staying. This is not a fly-by-night operation.”
“What about fingerprints?”
“Well, yours and mine are all over the letter. Mine are on the envelope, and I even took notes on it. We didn’t exactly follow good evidence procedure. There may be others, but we can’t go to the police.”
“What did you find out about the messenger?”
“Not much. Not even sex.”
“Like yes or no?”
“Like boy or girl. Whoever it was was apparently young-and nimble. Got away before the desk clerk could note any identifying characteristics.”