Free Cold Blood by Lynda La Plante

don’t know, but thanks for your time.”
    “That’s okay. ‘Bye now.”
    Lorraine watched Angie join three other girls, all in similar white tennis outfits. They looked over and smiled. She sat for a few moments, watching the girls warming up, slicing the ball over the net. Judging by the
    hard thudding crack of the ball she could tell, even though she was no tennis player, that the girls could play well. So if AL, as she was known, was better, she mu^fhave been very good.

    “I’d say she could have turned professional, if she’d had the inclination.”
    Lorraine was outside the squash courts, talking to a gangly boy with a white sweatshirt slung around his shoulders. torn Heller was at least six feet two and good-looking in an ordinary, neat-featured way.

    When Lorraine asked if he had played regularly with Anna Louise, he shrugged.

    “Yeah, sometimes on weekends at her house. Her dad is a great player.”
    Lorraine nodded.
    “What about the coach, er …”
    “Jeff Nathan? Yeah, I played with him at her place. He gives private lessons.”
    “Did you like him?”
    He frowned.
    “I didn’t really know him.”
    “Did Anna Louise like him?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You used to date her, didn’t you?”
    “Few timesnothing serious, beach parties, we ware just buddies really.”
    “Did you have sex with her?”
    He blushed.
    “No.”
    fr
    “Do you know if she was sexually permisSve in any way?”
    “Nowell, no more than anyone else.”
    “How many boys do you know had a sexual relationship with Anna Louise?”
    He blushed again.
    “I don’t knowlike I said, we dated a few times but no more than that.”
    “What about the coach? This guy Nathan, did he have something going with her?”
    He looked with distaste at Lorraine.
    “I have no idea.”
    She was suddenly pissed off by his supercilious attitude.

    “Look, it’s torn, isn’t it? Well, I am trying to trace Anna Louise, she’s been missing for eleven months and she could be lying in a shallow grave or she could be dancing in Las Vegas. I am just trying to do my job, okay? So if she was screwing this tennis coach, and you maybe knew about it as her buddy, then I’d be grateful if you’d tell me”
    “I have no idea.” “Do you know where I can find the tennis coach, Nathan?”
    “Maybe in the Bel Air. He plays there.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Heller. Sorry to interrupt your game!”
    It was almost lunchtime when Lorraine called the office on her cell phone.

    “How’s it going?”
    ,
    “Fine, waiting for Bill to call in with any developments,”
    Rosie said.

    “I’m on my way to see the tennis coachwhat are you doing?”
    Rosie pursed her lips.
    “A lot, I’ve got to arrange hotels, flights and”
    The second phone rang on Rosie’s desk.
    “Hang on, Lorraine, it might be Bill on line two.”
    Bill it was, to say that he wasn’t getting much of a result from any of the other investigation agencies attached to the Caley case, but he was still plugging away. Rosie passed this on to Lorraine, who suggested that perhaps he should interview the psychic the Caleys had hired in LA. Rosie repeated this to Rooney and listened to his reply with both receivers pressed to her ear before coming back to Lorraine.
    “He says they’re all a fucking waste of time.”
    Lorraine snapped back to Rosie,
    “You tell him that so are a bunch of racket-swinging rich kids, but before we hit New Orleans we gotta cover ourselves here, you tell him that.”
    Rooney could hear her and laughed, and, still laughing, told Rosie to tell Lorraine she was the boss, but when she tried to do so the line was dead. Rosie put both phones down and began to check out the telephone manual for a way to connect calls on two lines.

    Jeff Nathan had the kind of muscular body that most women fantasize about. His tight white T-shirt and his brief white tennis shorts showed strong tanned limbs that were very desirable, but within minutes Lorraine had figured out that all his