a speed cop would never remember us, I thought bitterly—just a big overgrown gorilla and a hundred-pound dream of a flame-headed doll doing ninety-five at night in a souped-up Lincoln. He’d never give us another thought.
She slowed down going through Colston. I had to give her credit. She didn’t want to kill any defenseless bystanders. When we hit the city limit on the other side, the speedometer began winding up again.
“All right, Dinah,” I said. “I’m impressed, and I know you can drive. So how about knocking it down a little before we pick up a cop?”
“They can’t catch me with one of those Fords unless it’s souped up. And it won’t stay on the ground if it is.” She was right. We picked up a patrol car just after we hit the first of the seventy-five miles of four-lane pavement. He never had a chance. Why they didn’t set a road block for us, I’ll never know. Maybe they’d chased her before and had just decided the best plan was to leave her alone and let her kill herself without any help. I had thought we’d be in Bayou City around two in the morning. At a quarter of twelve we were rolling into the downtown section. Traffic was beginning to slacken off and people were going home from the late movies.
“Is there any particular place you want out?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “Anywhere will do. I wish you wouldn’t go off angry, Dinah. I appreciate this, and I think you’re a nice guy.”
“You’ve already told me what you think, if you’ll recall.”
She pulled up at the curb. I got out, and then leaned back in the open window, holding out my hand. “Don’t go away like that, Dinah.”
At first I thought she was going to ignore me. Then her face relaxed and she reached out and took it, her hand very soft and warm and almost lost in mine. “Good luck, Jack,” she said quietly. She started to say something else, but choked on it; the face turned away, her hand jerked back, and I got out of the window just as the tires shrieked. I stood on the curb watching her disappear down the street. It’s not too good, I thought. But what could she do? She was smart enough to know that after hauling me down here she was implicated in the thing herself, and that if she had any regard for her own safety she’d have to keep her mouth shut. There was one serious flaw in this, ‘however, and I knew it. She wasn’t exactly the overcautious type.
I shook the worry off impatiently. I had other things to think about than that wild-haired girl. Luggage, for one, I thought. Of course, I could check into the hotel without any, but the room clerk would be more likely to remember me that way. From now on I had to be careful always to do nothing in the slightest degree odd or out of the ordinary. I couldn’t do anything that would make me stick in people’s memories.
In the next block a chain drugstore was still open. I went in and bought a cheap overnight bag and some shaving gear and a toothbrush. Across the street at a newsstand I picked up two heavy magazines and an out-of-town Sunday paper. As I went back out into the street I snapped the bag open and slipped them inside. So far, so good, I thought, but I still don’t know what room she’s in. She’d be in bed now, and obviously I couldn’t ask the room clerk.
I ducked into an all-night cafe and went back to the telephone. Looking up the number of the hotel, I dialed and waited.
The fan didn’t work and it was stifling inside the booth. “State Hotel.” It was a girl’s voice. The operator was still on duty.
“A Mrs. Crawford, please. Is she registered? This is United Airlines.”
“Just one moment, please.” She paused. “Yes, sir. I’m ringing.”
“Thank you,” I said. I waited, feeling the tightness growing inside my chest as I realized how near I was to her at last. How long had it been since I had let her out of the car in Colston?
“Hello.” It was Doris.
I wanted to cry out, “Darling, this is Jack!” Instead I asked smoothly, or as smoothly as I could, “Mrs. Crawford? This is United Airlines, the reservation desk.” Would she recognize my voice and not say anything wrong? “We’re very sorry, but so far we’ve been