Free A Wild and Lonely Place by Marcia Muller Page A

whimsy. Habiba giggled.
    I said, “The lady would prefer the queen not know about this excursion.”
    “Understood.”
    The little girl turned to me. “Thank you,” she said softly. “And thank you for being nice to my mom.” Then she added, “What’s
     your name?”
    “Sharon.”
    “Sharon.” She seemed to savor it, forming the syllables slowly.
    Renshaw said, “Your escort awaits you, my lady.”
    Habiba got out of the car.
    “Wait,” I said. “That signal you and your mother used to have? The wink? How would you like it if it was ours—yours, mine,
     and Mr. Renshaw’s? If you need to talk privately to either of us for any reason at all, just wink and say something about
     the place where you want us to meet you and when to be there.”
    “Could we? I’d like that.”
    “Just remember—for any reason at all. And we’ll do the same with you.”
    Renshaw smiled at me and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger above Habiba’s head. He didn’t realize that I hadn’t
     set the game up for the sake of the investigation. I’d done it for her.

Six
    So what did I have?
    A lot of facts and events that might be relevant to the bomber’s activities and might not. A lot of behavior on the part of
     Malika Hamid that didn’t add up. A badly damaged woman and a love-starved little girl who were virtually prisoners in a house
     that technically was considered part of a foreign nation. A man who seemed to have disappeared but hadn’t.
    And where was I going with all this?
    Nowhere except home to pick up the boxes I’d packed that afternoon, then straight north on Highway 101 to the Anderson Valley
     cutoff to the coast.
    Still…
    While stopped at a light on Market Street I called my office. Friday and Saturday nights Mick could usually be found there
     while Maggie—a premed student—worked the late shift at a nursing home. When my nephew picked up, he sounded relieved to hear
     my voice. “I’ve been trying to reach you all evening. You should think about getting a pager.”
    Then he’d really have me where he wanted me—on a short tether. “I’ll think about it,” I lied. “What’s up?”
    “Don’t go home.”
    “Why not?”
    “Joslyn called; she’s camped on your doorstep. She doesn’t believe you’ve left for the weekend, and she sounds like she’s
     ready for an ugly face-to-face.”
    “Damn!” I’d thought she’d have calmed down by now. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t go home to pick up my things; I kept weekend
     clothes and extras of everything else I needed at the cottage, and the boxes could wait till the next trip. But I’d hoped
     to ask Adah to access some information for me before I left town.
    “Well, thanks for the warning,” I told Mick. “Are you checking the bulletin boards?”
    “Yeah. So far there hasn’t been anything worthwhile.”
    “What about that research on Azad that I asked for? How’s it going?”
    “Done.”
    “Printed out, too?”
    “On your desk.”
    “Good. You willing to work tomorrow?”
    “Might as well. Maggie’s cramming for exams.” He sounded glum.
    “Okay, here’s what I need.” I explained it in detail. “Fax it to me at the cottage.” Then I pulled into the left-turn lane
     at Church Street, correcting course for Bernal Heights.
    * * *
    Mick had gone by the time I got to the office. I looked at my watch: after eleven. Hastily I bundled the stack of printout
     he’d left on my desk into my briefcase, but something nagged at me and I sat down to think. After a few minutes I moved my
     chair closer to the desk and dialed Captain Greg Marcus’s extension at the Hall of Justice. My old friend was now on Narcotics
     and by virtue of rank should have been off duty at this hour, but he’d recently told me he’d been putting in double shifts
     because of a severe manpower shortage. Tonight he was still at his desk.
    “This is a surprise,” he said. “I take it you want something.”
    Greg’s and my relationship