shoes back. “On —second thought . . . You have enough to do, kiddo. See to your husband. That takes first priority.”
“You’re very kind, Captain,” she said—incredibly enough, meaning it—and hustled off.
Grazer stood by his open office door, wearing his shoes on his hands, shorter than usual in stocking feet, muttering, “Wite-Out on suede . . .”
He looked up at Sikes and Francisco, as if noticing them for the first time.
“What’re you hanging around for?”
Matt bobbed his head back and forth in tiny increments for a while, and said slowly, “To report on the case, Bry.”
“What? . . . Oh, that.” He brushed past them, on his way back to his desk chair. “Yeah, sure, get to it.”
He wrapped his fist with tape again and the two detectives filled him in on the morning’s progress as crinkle and thwop punctuated the information. The sound effect slowed only near the end when George’s sense of outrage resurfaced briefly. The heightened emotion seemed to snap Grazer into some kind of sober awareness, and he dislodged a hand from a shoe, lifting a cautioning finger.
“I need not remind you, gents, you’re in a gray area. The doctor’s activities, however abhorrent, are not illegal. Right now, all you get is a ticket to ride”—making reference to the prescription—“which expires in less than forty-eight hours if you can’t get a lead on the specific pharmacy used by your actress friend. I can’t spare the time it would take for you guys to scam every fishy drugstore in L.A.”
“But, Captain—” Matt began.
“I thought we had an understanding, Sikes. I applaud your efforts so far, but don’t push your luck. Get it?”
A long pause.
“Got it.”
“Good.” Grazer glanced at George. “Francisco?”
“Of course.”
“Fine. Thanks for the tip on Albert. Now get outta here.”
They left the office and crossed to the adjoining desks, the sound of crinkle-thwop, crinkle-thwop fading behind them.
The timing couldn’t have been better.
No sooner had Sikes’s fanny hit the chair than a khaki officer told him there was a call waiting on line three.
“Sikes here.”
“Matt, it’s Cathy.”
“Cathy! How are you?”
“They set up a cot for me in the nurses’ dorm.”
“Yeah, but . . . how are you?”
“Oh . . . you know.”
He didn’t. Rephrased the question. “Get any sleep?”
“Enough to function. Hasn’t been that much to do . . . until now.”
“She’s awake?”
“You could call it that. One minute of rationality for every five of delirium.”
“. . . What’s her condition?”
“Good news, bad news. Order’s up to you.”
“Let’s go out on a win. Start with the bad.”
“The delirium probably signals the beginning of withdrawal. It’ll be rough.”
“How can you tell?”
“Weren’t you paying attention last night?”
“. . . You sound angry.”
“Do I?”
“A bit.”
“I’m not.”
“You sure?”
“Ma-att . . .”
“. . .”
“. . .”
“Okay, right. What’s the good news?”
“Provisional. I got her to come up with the name of a pharmacy. Took a lot of shouting, but I think I got through. The one she named was See Gurd Nurras in Little Tencton.”
“See Gurd what?”
“Nurras.”
“You spell that?”
“Phonetically only. Like it sounds, but that may not do much good. Pass it on to George, he’ll know what to make of it. It translates as ‘The Drug Runners.’ ”
“Cute.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“She give you an address?”
“You’re lucky to have that.”
“Never mind, we’ll look it up. And it is good news. What’s provisional about it?”
“She’s not connecting much. I can’t guarantee that’s the right name or that such a place even exists.”
“It’s better than nothing. We need an excuse to roll. If George and I can’t be in full-tilt boogie by tomorrow A.M., the case turns into a pumpkin.”
A short laugh escaped Cathy then. “I actually think I understand
Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey