Nothing to Lose (J.P. Beaumont #25)(47)

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I hear you loud and clear.”

Mel hung up then. I checked my phone for recent calls and figured out which number had to be Twink’s. She answered instantly. “TW Transportation,” she said. “Who’s calling?”

Standing on ceremony wasn’t exactly a Twinkle Winkleman thing.

“J. P. Beaumont,” I said. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Depends,” she said. “What have you got in mind?”

“I’d like to hire you to drive me to and from Homer.”

“For all day?”

“All day,” I replied.

“Same as today, but to go that distance I’ll have to charge for mileage and meals.”

“Fair enough.”

“What if things go long and we end up having to stay over?” she wanted to know. “I don’t want you thinking this is some kind of driver-with-benefits arrangement.”

Twinkle Winkleman was a long way from being my type, but I didn’t mention that. “Absolutely,” I said. “If we end up staying over, I’m good for separate rooms. Believe me, if I weren’t, my wife would kill me.”

“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Twink said.

I almost laughed aloud at that. At least she and Mel were on the same page.

“What time?” Twink asked.

“How about eight?” I suggested.

“It’s four and a half hours from here,” she said. “If you want any time on that end, we’d better make it earlier. What say seven instead of eight?”

“Seven it is,” I replied. “See you then.”





Chapter 17




The next morning at six, with it still pitch dark outside, I went down for breakfast and stopped by the front desk on my way to the restaurant. Since I didn’t know exactly how long the Homer visit would take, I wanted to know if I checked out that morning, would I be able to check back in that evening in case Twink and I finished up earlier than anticipated. The clerk—the guy who had actually recommended Twink in the first place—told me that due to overbooking for a conference, once I checked out, getting back in probably wasn’t an option.

I immediately walked to the far side of the lobby and called Twink. “Do you have a two-day rate in case we have to stay over in Homer?” I asked.

“I figured as much,” she said. “Fortunately, I’m not booked for either one. The multiple-day rate is seven-fifty, plus mileage, meals, and hotel.”

“Done,” I said.

“Have you made a room reservation in Homer?” she wanted to know.

“Not yet,” I replied. “Why, do you have any suggestions?”

“I can recommend the Driftwood Inn,” she told me. “The one in town rather than the one out on the Spit. They usually give me a good deal.”

“I’ll look into it.”

That’s what I said, but I didn’t do it right away. I figured there was plenty of time. Back in my room after a quick breakfast, I packed, realizing as I did so that once I got back home, I’d need to air the lingering cigarette smoke out of my luggage as well as my clothing. Then I called the car-rental folks and made arrangements for them to come pick up their vehicle from the hotel garage.

By seven o’clock I had checked out, left the Explorer’s keys at the front desk, and was waiting by the door when Twink showed up. Once my luggage and I were safely stowed, I offered my credit card.

She waved it away with a shake of her head. “Not to worry,” she said. “I figure you’re good for it. ’Sides, if you try to skip out on me, without a car where ya gonna go?”

“Good thinking,” I said.

“Where to first?”

I gave her the address Todd had given me for Roger and Shelley Adams on a street called Diamond Ridge Road in Homer.

“Got it,” Twink said. “That’ll be in the high-rent district out where all the hoity-toities live.”

With that she put the Travelall in gear, and off we went. There was no electronic GPS visible in the vehicle, but obviously the one in Twink’s head was functioning just fine. She pulled in to traffic with the confident air of someone who knew exactly where she was going.

Thanks to Todd, I already had addresses for the three of Chris Danielson’s classmates who still lived in Homer—Alex Walker, Phil Bonham, and Ron Wolf. My plan was to start with Roger Adams and move on to the others later. I had also asked Todd to locate an address for Helen Sinclair, Roger’s longtime secretary and the woman who had reached out to Danitza about her father’s current health issues. Taken together, it was quite a list, and if contacting some of these folks took as long as some of yesterday’s appointments had, it was probably a good thing Twink and I were already planning on an overnight stay.

Once it was actually daylight, the sunglasses came out. Twink seemed content to drive along humming some tuneless melody under her breath and feeling no need to engage in idle conversation. That gave me time to go through the dossiers Todd had provided and to map out a possible game plan.

Sometime well into the trip, Twink was forced to slow the Travelall to a crawl to avoid hitting a solitary moose meandering along in the middle of the highway.

“I guess these guys have the right of way no matter what,” I said. “In town or out of town, they own the roads.”