Last Run by Hilary Norman

guarantee that.’ She shook her head. ‘But you have to realize that
if you have any information that might make a difference to the investigation into Gregory’s death, you have to share it.’
    ‘Oh God,’ the teenager said, ‘this is just not fair.’
    ‘I know.’ Sympathetic, but matter-of-fact. ‘But I gather Greg was a friend?’
    ‘Sure.’ Ryan looked at her properly for the first time. ‘Did you say you’re a doctor?’
    ‘I’m also a friend of Greg’s parents.’ Grace’s smile was gentle. ‘Ryan, please.’
    ‘OK.’ He sighed. ‘It’s just that Greg used to smoke dope, you know?’
    ‘I do know,’ Grace said.
    A middle-aged couple came out of the house and Ryan waited as they stood for a few moments looking out over the bay, then shook their heads sadly, turned back and went inside again.
    ‘Go on,’ Grace told Ryan. ‘You were talking about Greg smoking dope.’
    ‘Uh-huh.’ He motioned to her to move with him even farther from the glass doors, closer to the edge. ‘But a while back,’ he said softly, ‘he got into coke. I warned
him about it – not just me, a couple of the other guys, we all told him to keep off – I mean, we all knew how much shit – excuse me – how much trouble he’d already
had.’
    ‘Just tell me, Ryan.’
    ‘But Greg wouldn’t listen, he just got so
into
stuff, you know, he couldn’t stop. And what he’d do, he’d go out late at night, real late, after his parents
were asleep, and he’d take his bike and go a good long way from home and do – you know – and then he’d maybe sleep it off on the beach or go swimming, and then he’d go
home again.’
    ‘So what was it that happened on the night of the murder?’ Grace thought she detected relief in the young man, finally able to unburden himself. ‘I take it you meant the
killing on the beach near Surfside?’
    ‘The Muller guy.’ Ryan nodded. ‘The thing was, I saw Greg next day and he was just so weird, you know – I mean
really
freaked out – and he wouldn’t
tell me why, wouldn’t tell any of us. But that was the day after the guy had gotten killed, and I know Greg used to cycle down that way, near the park, because he liked that the trees were
there to cover him while he . . .’
    ‘Right,’ Grace said.
    ‘So I’ve just been wondering, you know.’
    ‘I can imagine.’
    ‘He was just so upset, and now he’s . . .’
    Ryan turned away, and Grace thought he was trying not to weep.
    ‘It’s all right,’ she said.
    ‘Except it’s not, is it?’ he said.
    ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘It’s not.’
    He turned back, his eyes red, their expression urgent. ‘But you see I wasn’t there, doc, so there’s no point you giving my name to the cops, is there? Because I can’t
really tell them anything for sure, can I?’
    ‘OK.’ Grace waited a beat. ‘Ryan, there’s just one person I am going to mention this to and that’s my husband, because he’s a Miami Beach
detective—’
    ‘Oh God.’
    ‘It’s OK,’ she tried reassuring him again. ‘But he’s actually investigating the Muller killing, which means he really does need to hear this.’
    ‘But there’s nothing
to
hear,’ Ryan pleaded.
    ‘Probably not.’ Grace laid a gentle hand on his forearm. ‘But even if Detective Becket does want to ask you a few questions, Ryan, you have nothing to worry about.’ She
paused. ‘Unless you know where Greg was getting his drugs from.’
    ‘No,’ Ryan said quickly. ‘
No
.’
    ‘OK,’ Grace said gently. ‘That’s all right then.’

Chapter Twelve
    Sales personnel in clothing stores were accustomed to all kinds of sights. Fat men and women trying to squeeze their big behinds into tight jeans. Flat-chested girls hiking up
their tiny titties inside Wonderbras. Old women trying on shell suits, old men climbing into Speedos. The more experienced of them knew better than to laugh or even smile, were conscious that the
smallest flicker of mockery would not only