Free Run into Trouble by Alan Cook Page B

approached?”
    “No.” At least not in the sense Fred meant.
“Just curious. Of course, the prize for the winning team is so much
that it might be difficult to tempt anybody to throw the race who
was in the running to win.”
    Fred laughed. “That was Casey’s idea, too.
There’s nothing like giving away a million dollars to get people’s
attention.”
    “But Giganticorp can afford it.”
    “Yes, Giganticorp can afford it.”
    The lights went out, and the audience
hushed.
    Melody spoke, her voice sounding unnaturally
loud in the sudden silence. “One more question. Are you
married?”
    “Yes. Since we have a day off tomorrow, I’m
flying to San Jose to see my wife and three children. I have two
girls and a boy.”
    The orchestra started playing. Drake looked
up at a million stars twinkling above them and hoped that the rest
of the race would be as peaceful as it was here tonight.
    ***
    While the players were depicting a painting
that Melody was sure she had seen in the Louvre in Paris, Fred put
his hand on her bare knee. A friendly gesture. From a man who had a
wife and three children. Why did men like Fred think they were
irresistible to women?
    When the hand started to move up her thigh,
Melody could almost hear his thought process: “Women are docile;
she won’t make a scene in a stadium packed with people.”
    She gave him a chance to reconsider his
folly. When he started to go under her skirt, it was time for
action. She laid her hand on top of his fat one. A friendly gesture
on her part showing that she was enjoying his attention. She felt
for his chubby little finger, giving him some sensory pleasure. She
got a firm grip on it.
    Slowly she started to bend his finger back.
For the first few inches he might have seen it as an enjoyable form
of sadomasochism. But she kept going. He tolerated it longer than
she thought he would. Did she have to break his finger? Suddenly he
snatched his hand away and rotated his body toward Drake. He didn’t
look at her during the rest of the show.
    ***
    Drake didn’t have his pants completely off
when the telephone rang. He made the mistake of trying to hop to
the phone with them around his ankles. A spasm in his back caused
him to trip and fall forward. His nose hit the top of the
nightstand, and he roared in pain. He sat on the floor with his
back against the bed, trembling as he waited for the almost
unbearable spears shooting through his nose and back to
subside.
    The phone continued to ring. He’d better
answer it. Was he able to talk? He fumbled for the receiver and
picked it up.
    “Drake.”
    “Are you all right?” Melody’s voice sounded
frantic.
    Drake cleared his throat and tried to speak
above a mumble. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just had a little accident.”
    “Is somebody there?”
    “No.”
    “Drake, somebody went through my things
while we were at the show.”
    He was now fully alert. “Did they take
anything?”
    “No, nothing’s missing.”
    “Money? Jewelry?”
    “I didn’t leave any money in the room. The
jewelry I have with me is worthless. Nothing was nicked. What about
your room?”
    Now he understood what she was driving
at.
    “Just a minute.”
    Drake set the telephone receiver on the
nightstand and crawled across the threadbare rug on his hands and
knees to his suitcase. His pants were still around his ankles, but
he didn’t know whether he could stand yet, anyway. The suitcase was
sitting on the floor against the wall of the motel room where he
had left it. It took him a few seconds to open the latches because
his hands were still shaking from the pain.
    The differences were subtle, but he could
tell that somebody had been in his suitcase. He arranged his
clothes in a certain way from habit, left over from the days when
he never knew who would be spying on him. Whoever had looked inside
the suitcase had taken pains to cover his tracks, but he hadn’t
done quite a good enough job.
    Drake crawled back to the phone. “Somebody’s
been