Free The Instant Enemy by Ross MacDonald Page B

if he’d heard it, or felt her impatient will, Sebastian turned up almost immediately. His big car threw its lights up over the pass, came around the dark lake, and stopped under the floodlights.
    “You took your time,” Mrs. Marburg said at the door.
    “I’m sorry. I had a phone call as I was leaving. I had to take it.”
    Sebastian seemed tremendously excited. He was pale and brilliant-eyed. He looked from the woman to me.
    “What’s up?”
    Ruth Marburg answered grimly: “Come in, I’ll tell you what’s up.” She led us into the library and closed the door emphatically, like a warder. “Your precious daughter has stolen my son.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “She drove in here with her bully-boy hidden in the trunk of her car. Knocked out our manager with a tire iron. Walked into the house with bully-boy and marched Stephen out to their car and took him away.”
    “But that’s insane.”
    “It happened.”
    “When?”
    “Just before sundown. That was about five thirty. It’s after eight now. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
    “Anything. I’ll do anything.”
    A delayed rush of tears almost blinded him. He wiped them with his fingers, stood swaying in the light with his hands covering his eyes.
    “You’re
sure
it was Sandy?”
    “Yes. My daughter-in-law knows her well. Mr. Archer herevirtually predicted it was going to happen. Which brings me to the reason why you’re here. I want Mr. Archer to get my son back for me.”
    “This means,” I told him, “that you and I may be on opposite sides. Your daughter has helped to commit a major crime. I’m afraid I can’t protect her from the consequences.”
    “But I’ll expect you to cooperate with Archer,” Mrs. Marburg told him. “If you hear from your daughter, for example, you’ve got to let him know.”
    “Yes.” He nodded several times. “I promise I’ll cooperate. Thank you for—thank you for telling me.”
    She waved him away, out of her sight.
    “Well,” she said to me when he had left the room, “do you think he put her up to it?”
    “You know he didn’t.”
    “Don’t tell me what I know. People are capable of anything. Even the nicest people, and he’s not one of them.” She added: “Neither am I, in case you were in doubt.”
    “We’re wasting time.”
    She had the last word: “You’re on my time. On your way out, will you tell my husband to bring me a double Scotch. I’m as tired as death.”
    She slumped into her chair and let her face and body droop like Plasticine. Her husband was in the lighted gallery looking at the pictures. I delivered her message to him.
    “Thanks, old fellow. Don’t work too hard on this assignment, will you? If Stephen doesn’t come back, all this comes to Ruth and me. I love good paintings.”
    Marburg was half-serious, which was all he’d ever be. I went outside where Sebastian was waiting in my car. He was gnawing at a thumbnail. It was bleeding.
    I got in behind the wheel. “Do you have something to tell me?”
    “Yes. I was afraid to say it in front of her. That telephone call just before I left my house—it was from Sandy. She wanted me to come and get her.”
    “Where?”
    “Santa Teresa. She was cut off before she could give me directions.”
    “Did she say where she was calling from?”
    “No, but it was a collect call and the operator was able to trace it for me. Sandy used the office phone in the Power Plus station on this side of Santa Teresa. We’ve often driven up weekends, and stopped at that very station.”
    “I’d better get up there now.”
    “Take me along,” he said. “Please.”
    I turned and looked into his face. I didn’t like him much, or trust him very far. But I was liking him better as time passed.
    “How well do you drive?”
    “I don’t have accidents, and I haven’t been drinking.”
    “Okay, we’ll take my car.”
    Sebastian left his in a Malibu parking lot next door to a drive-in. I had a quick sandwich, which