6

I steered the green compact into the Clover Inn's gravel parking lot, listening to the tiny stones pinging off the insides of the fenders. Afternoon shadows were lengthening, and I saw that the parking space in front of cabin 5 was in shade.

After I parked and switched off the ignition, the little car's engine turned over a few times on its own, as if overheated. I felt overheated myself. Today brought me closer than I wanted to get to becoming involved in a murder case. The problem with homicides was that there was always someone else involved who was a murderer. All my frayed nerves needed was the knowledge that someone might be stalking me-with my death in mind. I didn't kid myself. I knew it was better to be a dead hero than a live coward. It was just that I didn't have the stomach for it. I lived on.

I struggled out of the car and stretched, realizing abruptly that I was hungry. After a cool shower to make me alive again, I'd eat at the Clover Grill, then phone for reservations on the first flight I could board out of Orlando.

When I entered the cabin, I found Dale Carlon sitting on the bed.

"Afternoon, Mr. Nudger."

I closed the door behind me, wishing I hadn't bothered to come back for my luggage. Carlon was smiling at me-a new side of him. It was an even, handsome, definitely PR smile.

"How did you get in here?" I asked.

"It happens that indirectly I own part of this motel, Mr. Nudger." The smile turned genuine. "You'll find that few doors are locked to me here in Layton."

I was momentarily angry with myself for feeling uncomfortable, awed by his authority. "That brings us around to why you're here," I said.

"I thought you'd like to know you've accomplished your objective. Melissa is returning home with her father on the earliest direct flight. Gordon and I decided it would be better this way until things are settled."

"Maybe I can be on the same flight," I said. I considered offering him a drink, then decided my brand would probably fall below his standards. To hell with it.

"I hope not, Mr. Nudger. I want to hire you."

That took me aback, but it explained why he'd been waiting for me. "As you said, I've already accomplished my objective." I wondered if he was letting Gordon Clark take Melissa because he wanted to or because he knew he'd have to eventually anyway. Or would he have, here in Layton?

The handsome smile grew more confident. "I'm sure I can change your mind."

I knew what he was getting around to. "Why do you want to hire me, Mr. Carlon?"

"To find my daughter."

I walked to the small writing desk, half leaned, half sat on it. "Your daughter is mixed up in murder, Mr, Carlon. I don't want to be. I don't extend my investigative activities that far, but I can give you the names of some top investigators who'd be interested."

"I'd like you to make an exception in my case."

"I'm afraid of murder, Mr. Carlon."

"Would fifty thousand dollars for your services make you less afraid?"

I sat down all the way on the small writing desk and looked at him. He was serious-more than that, sure of himself.

"Not less afraid," I said, "only wealthier. Why would you be willing to pay me that much when you can hire better investigators for a small fraction of the cost?"

With thumb and index finger he smoothed a crease in the leg of his elegant suit. "I have much to lose by unfavorable public exposure of any kind, Mr. Nudger. You're already into the case by accident, as it were, and you've seen some of the dirty linen that I don't wish made public. Since you've seen some, I prefer that you, rather than another unnecessary party, see whatever else must be seen. That way I have only you to trust and not you and someone else. And as your client you owe me at least a modicum of confidentiality. The fifty thousand dollars is for your secrecy as well as your services,"

Fear fought greed while Carlon watched with the air of a man who'd seen the battle often.

"A good deal of money," he commented, rooting for his side.

"I'm known for my avarice, Mr. Carlon."

"I see you as practical."

I laughed inside at that, even as I cringed. I already knew what I'd decided, against every instinct but greed,

"This will have to be a handshake deal, Mr. Nudger, without written records of any kind. Ten thousand now, forty thousand when Joan is located or returned to me. And of course I'll pay your expenses." Without averting his gaze he reached into an inside pocket and withdrew a thick stack of green bills, not in an envelope but rubber-banded together. A bit of psychology there. Good psychology. "I won't require a receipt, Mr. Nudger, as a gesture of our mutual trust."

That was meaningless, we both knew. Where could I hide from him if I did decide to run with the ten thousand?

I stood away from the writing desk. With my left hand I accepted the bills, with my right I shook Car-Ion's dry hand. I detected a very subtle change in his attitude, a confirmation in his eyes. He had judged me correctly.

"I think you'll find," he said, "that my influence can help in your investigation by opening many doors."

"I don't doubt that," I said, glancing at my own door.

"Now, Nudger, where do you intend to start?" Car-Ion adopted a much more familiar bearing now that he'd bought me, as if any moment he might slip off his shoes and stretch out on the bed.

"I'd like to know where Gordon Clark is."

"Gordon? Why?"

"Because I need to talk to Melissa."

I could see the hesitancy move through his body. He didn't like being probed in a soft spot, and Melissa was that. "Surely there's no need to bring her into this, not at this point."

"She spent the last several months with your daughter, Mr. Carlon. The missing months."

He stared hard at me, trying to read something in my face. "She's only seven…"

"I'll know how to talk to her."

He saw in me what he wanted, and nodded.

"They're at the Dolphin Motel in Orlando. Their flight leaves at seven tonight."

Carlon gave me the motel's phone number and his own private number. Then he left, without the ten thousand he'd brought.

Seven o'clock. To get to Orlando in time to talk to Melissa, I'd have to put off eating again.

Thanks to Carlon, I wasn't hungry now anyway.

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