F is for Fugitive by Sue Grafton

“Sorry.”
    â€œTalk to me. We may not have long.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œAnything. When’d you get up here? How was the ride?”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œHow’s the town look? Has it changed much?”
    â€œI can’t make small talk. Don’t ask me to do that.”
    â€œYou can’t shut down on me. We have too much work to do.”
    He was silent for a moment and I could see him struggle with the effort to be communicative. “For years, I wouldn’t even drive through this part of the state for fear I’d get stopped.” Transmission faltered and came to a halt. The look he gave me was haunted, as if he longed to speak, but had lost the capacity. Itfelt as if we were separated by more than a sheet of glass.
    I said, “You’re not dead, you know.”
    â€œSays you.”
    â€œYou must have known it would happen one day.”
    He tilted his head, doing a neck roll to work the tension out. “They picked me up the first time, I thought it was all over. Just my luck there’s a Peter Lambert out there wanted on a murder one. When they let me go, I thought maybe I had a chance.”
    â€œI’m surprised you didn’t take off.”
    â€œI wish now I had, but I’d been free so long. I couldn’t believe they’d get me. I couldn’t believe anybody cared. Besides, I had a job and I couldn’t just chuck it all and hit the road.”
    â€œYou’re some kind of clothing rep, aren’t you? The L.A. papers mentioned that.”
    â€œI worked for Needham. One of their top salesmen last year, which is how I got promoted. Western regional manager. I guess I should have turned it down, but I worked hard and I got tired of saying no. It meant a move to Los Angeles, but I didn’t see how I could get tripped up after all this time.”
    â€œHow long have you been with the company?”
    â€œTwelve years.”
    â€œWhat’s their attitude? Can you count on them for any help?”
    â€œThey’ve been great. Real supportive. My boss said he’d come up here and testify . . . be a character witness and stuff like that, but what’s the point? I feel likesuch a jerk. I’ve been straight all these years. Your proverbial model citizen. I never even got a parking ticket. Paid taxes, went to church.”
    â€œBut that’s good. That’ll work in your favor. It’s bound to make a difference.”
    â€œBut it doesn’t change the facts. You don’t walk away from jail and get a slap on the wrist.”
    â€œWhy don’t you let Clemson worry about that?”
    â€œI guess I’ll have to,” he said. “What are you supposed to do?”
    â€œFind out who really killed her so we can get you off the hook.”
    â€œFat chance.”
    â€œIt’s worth a shot. You got any ideas about who it might have been?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œTell me about Jean.”
    â€œShe was a nice kid. Wild, but not bad. Mixed up.”
    â€œBut pregnant.”
    â€œYeah, well, the baby wasn’t mine.”
    â€œYou’re sure of that.” I framed it as a statement, but the question mark was there.
    Bailey hung his head for a moment, color rising in his face. “I did a lot of booze back then. Drugs. My performance was off, especially after I got out of Chino. Not that it mattered. She was with some other guy by then.”
    â€œYou were impotent?”
    â€œLet’s say, ‘temporarily out of order.’ ”
    â€œYou do any drugs now?”
    â€œNo, and I haven’t had a drink in fifteen years. Alcohol makes your tongue loose. I couldn’t take the chance.”
    â€œWho was she involved with? Any indication at all?”
    He shook his head again. “The guy was married.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œShe told me that much.”
    â€œAnd you believed her?”
    â€œI can’t think why she would have