Partner In Crime

“Ron Workman,” Joa

“Right,” Je

“That we got lucky,” her mother replied. “Very, very lucky.”

LATE THAT NIGHT – LONG AFTER DINNER was over and the dishes had been washed and put away – Joa

Butch’s presence in her life had blessed Joa

With a cringe that made her blush in the dark, Joa

It was time, Joa

In the dark, she snuggled closer to Butch. “You awake?” she asked.

“I am now,” he grumbled sleepily. He reached over and pulled her close. “I don’t understand it. How can you get by on so little sleep?”

“I’ve always been that way,” she said. “It drove my mother crazy.”

“I can see why,” he said. “Now what’s happening?”

“Remember what you wanted to do in the family room?”

“I wanted to do it in the family room?” he asked, rolling over onto his back. “When?”

“Not that.” Joa

“Oh, right, the train track. You said you didn’t want it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” she said, “and I’ve changed my mind. If it’s not too late, we should put the track in after all.”

“I thought you said it was weird and you wanted normal.”

Joa

“Well, then. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“I told you. It’s fine.”

“Great, then, we’ll have trains. Oh, by the way. I forgot to tell you. We agreed on Gayle.”

“Gayle what?”

“Gayle Dixon. My pen name. Drew and I finally worked it out today. She’s sending me an agency contract for me to sign and rewrite suggestions. When those are done she wants me to send the manuscript back under the nom de plume of Gayle Dixon.”

“I still think it’s strange that you have to change your name.”

“So do I,” Butch agreed. “But you’ll still love me, won’t you? Even if I turn into someone named Gayle?”

“As long as Gayle keeps the same meat-loaf recipe.”

“The name may change,” Butch said, chuckling. “but the food is bound to remain the same. Now, is that the only reason you woke me up – to talk about model trains?”

“Maybe not the only one,” she told him.

“Show me,” he said.

THE TOW-TRUCK DRIVER was kind enough to drop me off at some anonymously forgettable, cheapo motel close to the airport. The next morning I took the motel shuttle to catch my plane. Surprisingly enough, the early-morning flight to Seattle was almost deserted. The Husky fans had evidently all gone home to Seattle, and I had no idea who had won or lost the game.

I had a whole row of three seats to myself. With no one crowding me and no one to talk to, I had plenty of time to think. With some effort, I managed to keep my mind off both A

I had yet to speak to Ross Alan Co

“Where are you?” she asked. “Still in Arizona?”

“I’m on my way home,” I told her.

“Did you hear about what happened to Ross Co

“Yes, I did. In fact, that’s why I’m calling,” I told her. “I need his address. I want to send flowers.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “The whole squad is chipping in and sending a single arrangement.”

“I want to do my own,” I said.

“Well, okay, then,” she agreed. “Suit yourself.”

She gave me an address on Water Street. Once I arrived in Olympia, I wasn’t surprised to find the attorney general’s home was within easy walking distance of the capitol complex. The house wasn’t quite as imposing as the one A

Up and down the narrow street, late-model upscale cars – Mercedeses, Jaguars, and an understated Lexus or two – were parked on either side. When I rang the bell, a uniformed maid answered the door. I gave her my card. Minutes later, I was led inside. Hearing voices in the living room, I was a bit miffed at being directed away from the piss-elegant crowd that had come to mingle and comfort Ross Co

Imagine my surprise, then, when I reached the small single room at the top of the stairs and discovered that Ross Alan Co

But just then Ross Co

“Hello, J.P.,” he said somberly. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“I came straight here. I’m so sorry about Francine…”

“I know, I know,” he said impatiently, brushing aside my condolences. “Sit down.” He motioned me toward a sagging, butt-sprung leather recliner that could have been a brother to the re-covered wreck in my own living room. “Who told you about it?”

“Your mother. I talked to her yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh,” he said.

Not knowing what to say next, I waited for him to continue.

“She left me a note,” Ross Co

He paused. I knew what it was – knew what he couldn’t bring himself to say, so I helped him along.

“I know she was involved with Louis Maddern,” I said quietly. “It’s all in the telephone logs. I can show you…”