F is for Fugitive

"The deal?"

"Yeah. What do you want with me?"

"Information about the murder. I understand you saw Bailey and Jean together the night she was killed."

"What of it?"

"Can you tell me what happened? I'm trying to get a feel for what was going on."

From the far side of the room, I saw Pearl's attention focus on our table. He extracted himself from his conversation and ambled over. He was a big man, so that even the exertion of crossing the room left him breathing heavily. "I see you've met my boy and his wife."

I rose halfway from my seat and shook his hand. "How are you, Pearl? Are you joining us?"

"Could." He pulled out a chair and took a seat, signaling to Daisy to bring him a beer. "You fellas want anything?"

Cherie shook her head. Rick ordered another beer.

"How about you?" Pearl said to me.

"I'm fine."

He held up two fingers and Daisy began to fill a jar from the dispenser hose at the bar. Pearl turned back to me. "They catch Bailey yet?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Heard Royce had him a heart attack."

"An attack of some kind. I'm not sure what it was. He's in the hospital now, but I haven't really talked to him."

"Fella's not long for this world."

"Which is why I hope to wrap this thing up," I said. "I was just asking Rick about the night he saw Jean Timberlake."

"Sorry to interrupt. You go right ahead."

"Not much to tell," Rick said uncomfortably. "I drove by and spotted the two of 'em getting out of Bailey's truck. They looked drunk to me."

"They were staggering?"

"Well, not that, but hanging on to each other."

"And that was midnight?"

Rick made a visual reference to his father, who had turned at Daisy's approach. "Could have been a little after that, but right around there." Daisy put the two beers on the table and went back to the bar.

"You see any cars passing? Anybody else on the street?"

"Nuh-unh."

"Bailey says it was ten o'clock. I'm puzzled by the discrepancy."

Pearl intervened. "Coroner put the time of death close to midnight. Naturally, Bailey'd like everybody to believe he was home in bed by then."

I glanced at Rick. He should have been home in bed himself. "You were how old, seventeen at the time?"

"Who, me? I'se a junior in high school."

"You'd been out on a date?"

"I'd been at my grammaw's and I was on my way home. She'd had a stroke and Dad wanted me to stay with her till the visiting nurse got there." Rick lit another cigarette.

Cherie's face was expressionless, except for an occasional flicker of the mouth-meaning what? She checked her nails and decided to give herself a manicure with her teeth.

"Which was when?"

"Ten after twelve. Something like that."

Pearl spoke up again. "Nurse on -the early shift called in sick so I had Rick sit in till the other one got there."

"I take it your grandmother lived in the neighborhood."

"Why all the questions?" Rick asked,

"Because you're the only witness who can actually put him at the scene."

"Of course he was there. He admits that himself. I saw the two of 'em get out of his truck."

"It couldn't have been somebody else?"

"I know Bailey. I've known him all my life. He wasn't any farther away than here to there. The two of 'em drove down to the beach and he parked and they got out and went down the steps." Rick's eyes strayed back to his father's face. He was lying through his teeth.

"Excuse me," Cherie said. "Does anybody mind if I bug out? I got a headache."

"You go on home, baby," Pearl said. "We'll be there in a bit."

"Nice meeting you," she said to me briefly, as she got up. She didn't bother to say anything to Rick. Pearl watched her departure, clearly fond of her.

I caught Rick's eye again. "Did you see anybody coming in or out of the motel?" I knew I was being persistent, but I figured this might be the only chance I'd get to question him. His father's presence probably didn't help, but what was I going to do? "No."

"Nothing out of the ordinary?"

"I already told you that. It was just regular. Normal."

Pearl spoke up. "You've about exhausted the subject, haven't you?"