Page 64 of Tailspin

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They clinked bottles and drank.

Rawlins took a seat on the sofa, opened the bag of chips and munched a couple, then got down to business. “Where’d she go?”

“To the restroom.”

Rawlins stopped chewing and looked quizzically at Wilson.

Wilson explained what he’d gleaned from the car dealer and the waitress at the café. “Nobody’s seen her since.”

“Wanna bet?” Rawlins drawled and took another sip of beer.

“Mallett?”

Rawlins shrugged. “He’s the type.”

Wilson nodded in grudging agreement. “Damn his hide.”

“His hide and hair.”

Wilson, who’d lost more than half of his, gave his partner a wounded look.

“That hurt.”

Rawlins chuckled.

After taking another drink of his beer, Wilson began absently scraping the bottle label with his thumbnail. “I’ve got an ear worm.”

“What song?”

“Not a song. Something I overheard, at the department, as we were walking upstairs with them. The doctor and Mallet had an exchange there on the landing.”

“I remember you telling them to move along.”

“Right, but it’s what he said I keep going back to.”

“Relative to—”

“Nothing at the time,” Wilson admitted. “Not till later.”

“Okay.”

“His jacket. He’d folded it over his arm to where the lining showed. White silk, but old-looking, yellowed. It’s got a pinup girl painted on it.”

“Like they used to paint on the noses of bombers?”

“Before political correctness,” Wilson said. “It wasn’t lewd. The girl’s got clothes on. More teasing than anything. But when the doctor saw it, she took exception, and let him know it.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing right away. But you know that look they give you. Like, ‘Will you grow up?’”

Rawlins said, “I know the look.”

“So Mallett refolded the jacket, gave this mock apology, and told her that there was a world map on the inside.”

Rawlins listened, crunched, drank from his beer. “Okay.”

“Well…” Wilson glanced at the muted TV. A receiver had just dropped a perfect pass, but neither was interested in the game any longer. “It got me to thinking that maybe we were shown blood samples to keep us from looking at something underneath them.”


Tags: Sandra Brown Suspense