Free The Dance by Christopher Pike Page B

Bubba seated in front of a CRT. Hardly lifting his eyes from the screen, Bubba waved him into a chair. Michael sat patiently for a few minutes before finally asking, “Should I come back later?”
    “No.”
    “What are you doing?”
    Bubba continued to study the screen, flipping through rows and rows of figures. “Did you know Tabb High is paying to receive the latest Wall Street numbers over our modem?”
    “No.”
    “Neither does the administration.” Bubba pointed to the screen. “Look at Ford. Yesterday it was ninety-five and three-quarters. Now it’s down to ninety-two and a half.”
    “Did you buy an option on it?”
    “No. I’ve been shying away from options altogether. Too risky with the way Wall Street has been dancing since the bond market choked.” He tapped a couple of other numbers, then put his finger to his lips, thoughtful. “But when the market’s like this, it’s also the best time to make a quick killing.”
    “Are you in some kind of hurry?”
    “Greed always is.” He flipped off the screen, relaxed into his personal swivel chair, giving Michael his full attention.
    “What’s up?”
    “The usual—nothing. How about you?”
    “What can I say? The world revolves around me.” He paused, giving Michael a penetrating look. Bubba was no dummy. “You want to talk about something, Mike?”
    “Am I that obvious?”
    “No, I’m that perceptive. Besides, we’ve known each other a long time. What’s on your mind?”
    He reminds me we’re old friends. He knows I don’t trust him.
    Michael did not suspect Bubba of murdering Alice McCoy. He realized, however, that Bubba did not have to be a murderer to be a liar. Nick had heard groans coming from the locked bedroom next to the room where they had found Alice. Cries of distress, Nick had thought, perhaps mistaking what had actually been cries of ecstasy.
    “All right, I did want to talk to you about some-thing.”
    “Shoot.”
    “Were you having sex with Clair in the bedroom next to the one where Alice died?”
    Bubba chuckled. “Wow, now that’s a fine question.”
    Michael smiled. “Were you?”
    “What did I tell the police?”
    “That you were outside in the front with Clair, stargazing.”
    “Then the answer must be no.”
    Michael leaned forward. “Come on, Bubba, it had to be you. It couldn’t have been anybody else.”
    “How does this tie in with what happened to Al-ice?”
    “If I knew for a fact you were in there with Clair, it would allow me to cross that room out of the whole equation.”
    “Are you still talking to the police?”
    “The police think it was a suicide,” Michael said. “I keep in contact with the detective that was in charge of the case. Why?”
    “Just wondering.”
    “I’m not going to go to them with this information if that’s what you’re worried about.”
    “I wasn’t in the bedroom. I would tell you if I was. Why don’t you believe me?”
    Michael knew from experience what a phenomenal liar Bubba was. Yet he didn’t understand why Bubba would lie to him now. Surely he couldn’t be trying to protect Clair’s reputation, not after bragging about how many condoms he had gone through with her. On the other hand, the question remained—who could it have been?
    Could Bubba have been in the room with Clair and Alice? Michael sat back in his seat. “I hope Clair enjoyed the astronomy lesson. Did you show her the Little Dipper?”
    Bubba grinned. “Hey, that sounds like a personal insult. But I’ll forgive you this time. How’s the telescope? Discovered any comets?”
    No one could change a subject as smoothly as Bubba. Michael decided he would wait and broach the topic later. “I’m still looking,” he said. “It’s a big sky.” He had made a vow to himself not to discuss his find with anyone until it was definite. He nodded to the computer screen. “I need a favor.”
    “What?”
    “Use those codes you swiped from Miss Fenway and call up the files on that Randy guy