The two ushered Baratto into the house before he could change his mind, while Winston held out his hand to Dean.

"I'm sure you want to get back to Parkside. I'll give you a call tomorrow," he said as he turned and followed the others, adding, "Keep an eye out over your shoulder."

Winston assumed Dean would know his way back, and Dean was too embarrassed to ask for directions. After an hour of circles he spotted a numbered highway he recognized, although he was much further from Parkside than he'd suspected. It was well after

4:00 by the time he found the correct route leading toward home. In view of the lateness of the hour, Dean pulled into a pay phone and called the office to check his messages.

"Three phone messages," Rita said, with no emotion. He could picture her sitting there, in her wraparound paisley with the torn-out hem. "Fred has a date with Mrs. Abernathy and won't be home for supper but wants you to wait up for him. Mrs. Byrne asked that you call her and the lady lawyer you ball on Thursday nights telephoned." She added, "Leland Anderson's wife Marian says you're a schmuck for not solving the Byrne thing and causing her to lose her bet."

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He called Ethel Rosewater first, catching her at the office. "I talked to your Mrs. Byrne this afternoon. Do you have the hots for her or something? She thinks you're the greatest thing since God died."

"Strictly business," Dean answered, automatically.

"I'll bet," Ethel said sarcastically. "But maybe you can talk some sense to her. It looks like she's too goody-goody to sue any­body, but I haven't given up yet. I did tell her what's needed to begin the process of getting the jerk declared dead." Before Dean could ask her to explain, she added, "I gotta run. Arthur's buzzing me. He needs help with fat-cat client-one of his Philadelphia gangsters. My pocketbook calls. See you Thursday night, stud." He was left listening to a dial tone and beginning to seriously question their bizarre relationship.

Dean telephoned Cynthia Byrne next, but Randy answered. "No baseball practice today?" Dean asked. "No. The coach gave us a breather. Exams are starting."

"Can we talk?" Dean asked quietly.

"Yes," came the cautious reply.

"Your dad, or whoever was in his car, was alone at that motel. No one else was there."

"He was really alone?"

"I wouldn't lie to you. I don't know why the car was there. Maybe we'll never know, but I'll bet it was harmless. I'll explain how we found out when I see you, but there was only one person in the room the whole time. No woman. No hot date."




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