Fugitive Nights by Joseph Wambaugh

picnic out near Painted Canyon. It was touching. She even brought her doggie along.”
    â€œDid they do anything besides picnic?”
    â€œHe didn’t spread anything on the blanket except maybe peanut butter,” Lynn said. “And he fed her doggie from his very own sandwich. It was a domestic scene if ever I saw one. After they were through they went for a hike in Painted Canyon.”
    Lynn hesitated, finished the drink, and nodded to the bartender for another. Breda noted that the nervy bastard didn’t bother to ask if she’d pop for one more.
    After he got his fresh drink, Lynn said, “Only thing is, I wasn’t able to get the babe’s license number.”
    â€œShit!” she said. “Why not?”
    â€œHey, I was lucky he didn’t make me! It’s open country out there. I got enough sand in my shoes to toilet train a thousand cats!”
    â€œOkay, but do you know where she lives?”
    â€œI didn’t follow her. You said to stay with his car. He drove her back to the café and then went home. But there was a weird part.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHe wasn’t alone. He picked up a guy in Painted Canyon. Devon and the guy drove back to Palm Springs together. He dropped him down by Indian and Ramon Road. Weird.”
    â€œWhat’d the guy look like?”
    â€œDark, maybe Mexican. Husky. Wore a baseball cap and a windbreaker.”
    â€œI wish you’d followed the woman.”
    â€œYou told me to stay with Devon.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œI wish I’da followed the guy with the baseball cap.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt bugs me. Who was he?”
    â€œSome guy that needed a lift.”
    â€œBut all the way to Palm Springs?”
    â€œMaybe he lives in Palm Springs.”
    â€œThen how’d he get to Painted Canyon?”
    â€œDoes the Sun Bus run down there? What difference does it make?”
    â€œI don’t like third parties barging in on a nice clean soap opera is all.”
    â€œI just wish you’d followed the woman.”
    â€œYou said that. How about buying me another drink?”
    Breda pushed her tumbler of Chivas toward him. “Here, drink mine,” she said with a barely concealed sneer.
    And then her jaw muscles tightened because the son of a bitch turned the lipstick mark the other way before he drank!
    â€œOkay,” he said, “next time I’m using my own judgment. If Clive Devon starts picking up mysterious people and I think they oughtta be followed then I’ll follow em.”
    â€œI assumed you’d use your own judgment. You’ve been a cop long enough. By the way, how long have you been on the job?”
    â€œThirteen years in this town. Six years before that with San Diego P.D. I came to the desert when I hurt my knee and started getting problems from the dampness down there. Now both my knees’re so wrecked I could live in Greenland, it wouldn’t make no difference.”
    â€œWhen’s your pension coming through?”
    â€œHopefully this month,” he said. “That’s why I don’t want anybody at the department or anywhere else to know I’m running around the desert in places a bighorn wouldn’t go. The great giver-of-pensions might have second thoughts about my disability.”
    â€œGoing to get a P.I. license after the pension’s in the bag?”
    â€œWhy not?” he said. “Anybody can from what I see.”
    â€œHow sensitive you are.”
    â€œI wasn’t referring to you.”
    â€œOf course you weren’t.”
    â€œI don’t insult people when they’re buying the drinks. Not on purpose.”
    â€œI’ve gotta make a call,” she said, getting up, and he watched her walk toward the rest room, admiring those cyclist’s calves. He loved babes who wore tailored jackets and skirts, with buffed-up calves!
    After rooting inside her purse, she found her phone file