Free F is for Fugitive by Sue Grafton

you?”
    â€œWhy should I care?”
    â€œNot what it looks like anyway,” he said. “Tall one likes to dance when she’s feeling blue.”
    â€œWhat’s she got to be unhappy about?”
    â€œThey just picked up the fellow killed her little girl a few years back.”

 
    Â 
    Â 
7
    Â 
    Â 
    I watched her for a moment. At a distance of half the bar, she looked twenty-five. She had her eyes closed, head tilted to one side. Her face was heart-shaped, her hair caught up in a clip on top, the lower portion brushing across her shoulder in a rhythm with the ballad. The light from the jukebox touched her cheek with gold. The woman she was dancing with had her back to me, so I couldn’t tell anything about her at all.
    Pearl was sketching in the story for me with the practiced tone of frequent telling. No details I hadn’t heard before, but I was thankful he’d introduced the subject without any further prompting on my part. He was just warming up, enjoying his role as tribal narrator. “You staying at the Ocean Street? I ask because this fella’s dad owns that place.”
    â€œReally,” I said.
    â€œYep. They found her down on the beach right in front,” he said. Residents of Floral Beach had been telling this tale for years. Like a stand-up comedian, hehad his timing down pat, knowing just when to pause, knowing just what response he’d get.
    I had to watch what I said because I didn’t want to imply I knew nothing of this. While I’m not averse to lying through my teeth, I never do it when I’m apt to be caught. People get crabby about that sort of thing. “Actually, I know Royce.”
    â€œAw, then you know all about this.”
    â€œWell, some. You really think Bailey did it? Royce says no.”
    â€œHard to say. Naturally, he’d deny anything of the sort. None of us want to believe our kids would kill someone.”
    â€œTrue enough.”
    â€œYou have kids?”
    â€œUnh-unh.”
    â€œMy boy was the one who spotted the two of ’em pulling into the curb that night. They got out of the truck with a bottle and a blanket and went down the steps. Said Bailey looked drunk as a skunk to him and she wasn’t much better off. Probably went down there to misbehave, if you get what I mean. Maybe she sprung it on him she was in a family way.”
    â€œHey, there. How’s that little Heinie car acting?”
    I glanced back to see Tap behind me, a sly grin on his face.
    Pearl didn’t seem thrilled to see him, but he made polite noises with his mouth. “Say, Tap. What’re you up to? I thought that old lady of yours didn’t like you comin’ in here.”
    â€œAw, she don’t care. Who’s this we’re talking to?”
    â€œI’m Kinsey. How’re you?”
    Pearl raised an eyebrow. “You two know each other?”
    â€œShe had her bug in this afternoon and wanted me to take a look. Said it was kind of whiny up around sixty. Whiny Heinie,” he said, and got real tickled with himself. At close range, I could smell the pomade on his hair.
    Pearl turned and stared at him. “You got something against the Germans?”
    â€œWho, me?”
    â€œMy folks is German, so you better make it good.”
    â€œNaw, hell. I don’t care. That Nazi business wasn’t such a bad idea. Hey, Daisy. Gimme a beer. And hand me a bag of them barbecued potato chips. Big one. This gal looks like she could use a bite to eat. I’m Tap.” He hiked himself up on the barstool to my left. He was the sort of man who saved his handshakes for meetings with other men. A woman, if known to him, might warrant a pat on the butt. As a stranger, I lucked out.
    â€œWhat kind of name is Tap?” I asked.
    Pearl cut in. “Short for tapioca. He’s a real puddin’ head.”
    Tap cut loose with a laugh again, but he didn’t seem that amused. Daisy showed up with