It was a shock for David Dean to see Fred O'Connor sitting on a wooden stool behind bars at the Ouray County jail. The old man looked defeated, with all his natural feistiness absent, left outside in the sunshine. What remained in the darkened room was a beaten old man.
Lydia Larkin had led Dean in with neither exchanging a word. Fitzgerald wasn't in the building. Aside from Larkin, there was only an elderly clerk who neither looked up nor spoke. There were no other desperados in the lock up. She'd turned and retreated after unlocking the barred door, leaving it standing open as Dean entered the darkened enclosure. After giving Fred a hug he sat next to him on the bunk. He surprised himself with his calmness, prompted by a total lack of understanding of the situation.
"What's this all about, Fred?"
"That bastard Fitzgerald-pardon my French-caught me talking to Martha on the telephone. He pinched me for obstructing justice and a whole bunch of stuff."
"What did Martha say?"
"If I tell you we'll be bunk mates."
"Is she okay?"
"Yup. Even after running around with that dingbat mother like a mouse in a doorless maze." He looked around the corner to see if Lydia was listening. She was nowhere in sight. "It was Martha who called Bird Song this morning. She didn't want to talk whilst I was there, figuring maybe the line was tapped or something. She gave me a number to call her so's I telephoned from the courthouse. That's when I got nabbed."
"Cynthia is a wreck over this," Dean said. "We all are."
"Tell her not to worry none. Martha's going to be fine. Take my word for it."
"Where she's going? Do you know where she is??"
Fred chuckled. "She said she was near the big one-sided McDonald's-she meant the arch."
"What arch?"
"St. Louis!"
"Martha's in Missouri? What in hell are they doing there?"
"Don't want to say-least not yet." He pulled out a pocket watch and looked at it. "She ain't in Missouri anymore."
"What did you tell Fitzgerald?"
"I wouldn't tell that ninny if his shoes were on fire and he was standing at a leaky gas pump. That's why Fitzgerald booked me and tossed me in here. I did have a talk with the fella with the silly moustache dressed in the undertaker's clothes. He was nice enough to say I didn't belong locked up but this was Fitzgerald's jurisdiction and he couldn't do nothing about it. I told him enough to satisfy him."
"You mean finding them?"
"Sort of."
"But Martha's fine."
"Yup. Trust me."
Dean closed his eyes and tried to think. It was no use pressing Fred further. "How about you? Are you all right here?" he asked.