Free Alarums by Richard Laymon Page B

him with a vengeance when he married Joyce.
        She was probably wishing she'd been nicer to him.
        'You'd better get to the right,' Pen said.
        He eased over. They were on San Vicente, and the air streaming in through the open window was cooler than it had been a few minutes ago. Bodie suspected they were approaching the ocean, though there was no sign of it ahead.
        The road had a wide, grassy center strip that appeared to be a haven for joggers.
         Must be great for the lungs, Bodie thought, running your little heart out down the middle of a busy street.
        'You'd better slow down,' Pen said. 'It's coming up, and you really can't see the road until you're almost on top of it.'
        Bodie checked the mirror, then took his foot off the gas pedal. The area over there was heavily wooded. He couldn't see the road yet.
        He flicked the arm of his turn signal, eased down on the brake, spotted the side road concealed among bushes and trees, and turned onto it. He drove slowly along the single lane. Though he could see no houses, he found evidence of their presence: patches of fence visible behind shrubbery and vines, mail boxes on weathered posts, now and then a garage, an occasional driveway entrance with a gate, a few cars parked half on the road so that he had to steer carefully around them.
        The cars were not slouches: a Jaguar, a Porsche, a Ferrari, a Mercedes that looked incredibly huge and alien among the sleek sports cars.
        'You can pull over behind the Mercedes,' Pen told him.
        Speaking of alien - his VW van in with these ritzy vehicles. Folks would figure it must belong to the help. Caterers, perhaps. A party at the Conway residence.
        A wake.
        He maneuvered his van over to the right as far as possible. Bushes scraped its side. It was still jutting an uncomfortable distance into the road, but no more so than the Mercedes.
        He hopped down. Instead of trying to squeeze through the passenger door, Pen swung her legs onto the driver's seat and scooted across. She gripped the steering wheel to pull herself along. Bodie tried not to look at her blouse.
        He held out his hand. Pen took it, and he helped her out.
        'Thank you.'
        He let go of her hand, perhaps a bit too quickly. Melanie had pushed the seatback forward. He moved in, gently gripped her upper arm, and steadied her as she stepped down.
        They walked past the gray Mercedes. Melanie frowned at it.
        Near the front of the car stood a mailbox like the others along the road. This one bore the name CONWAY in black metal letters.
        A gap in the bushes revealed a wooden gate. Farther up the road, a break in the foliage made way for a garage. The closed garage door was only a yard off the road. Must be dicey backing out, Bodie thought.
        Pen, leading the way, unlatched the front gate and swung it open. She stepped through, followed by Melanie. Bodie went next and closed the gate.
        The lawn was a trim carpet of grass. Most of it was shaded by trees, which blocked Bodie's view of the house's upper story. The walkway led past a small, concrete fountain. In the center of the fountain stood a pudgy cherub wearing a mischievous leer and nothing else. Water spurted from his brass penis, splashing into the pool.
        Bodie wondered if Whit was responsible for that. It was the mark, he thought, of either upper class sophistication at its worst, or a nice bit of nasty wit. The latter, he hoped. He could like a guy who got a kick out of pissing statues.
        The white stucco house had the look of a hacienda. An open porch ran the length of it, shadowed by a red tile roof. A dozen flower pots were suspended by rope from the porch ceiling. Beyond them were some white, wrought-iron chairs and a love seat which couldn't be very comfortable but looked cheery. There were big windows on each side of the front door.
        Pen