"You planned on having dinner with him?

"He never actually asked me but I was expecting it."

"Was that unusual?"

Brunel thought a moment. "He was like from the head shed- the home office. That made it his call. He said he had a chore to do. He hadn't mentioned anything earlier about cutting the evening short so I figured it was an excuse. I left town first thing the next morning."

"What kind of chore? Something to do with his work?"

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"I guess. I don't know what else it could have been, him being in a strange town and all."

"What did you talk about when you got together?"

"Just business-I mouthed off about everybody, he just lis­tened-and some chit-chat. He was the only guy at World Wide who wasn't a shark. I've known him since Scranton. We'd talk sports and stuff, and maybe have a beer. He had a son who was a hot shot baseball player and I played two years in the minors."

"Did he talk about biking?" Dean asked.

Brunel paused. "I guess-along with other sports. I think he used to bike and I do some myself."

"Did either of you stop and buy bike shoes?" Dean asked.

"Nope. Our only stop was for a couple of beers."

It was apparent Brunel had nothing more to offer so Dean thanked him for his help and hung up. While he was disappointed, he hadn't expected much else. He filled in Fred before the two once again parted.

Dean figured with everything happening, sleep would be slow in coming. However, no sooner had he entered the tent, stripped, and crawled into his sleeping bag than his exhausted body began to drift to another world. Unfortunately, the trip to dreamland was short in duration. He'd just nodded off when he heard a sound out­side and a whispered greeting. He fumbled for the light just as the zipper on his tent opened to reveal the bright smile of Betty from Boise.

"Hi. I was pretty sure this was your tent. I recognized you ear­lier."

"Hi," Dean responded, bewildered as he rose up on his elbows.

"Can I come in?" she asked, opening the flap the rest of the way.

"Into the tent?"

She was in before he could answer. "I've got this problem," she said as she pulled in her open sleeping bag, and turning, re-zip­pered the tent flap behind her. "This gang of us came down from Boise together and some of them are getting a little rowdy-you know, into funny pills and stuff-shit like that? You look like a nice safe guy, not some whacko, so is it okay if I crash here for the night?" She crawled forward on her hands and knees. "This creep Hal is hot for me and this is the last place anybody would look."




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