Out Cold by William G. Tapply Page A

said.
    â€œThat good-looking police officer,” he said, “whats-her-name, Mendoza, the detective, she came by this morning, talked to me about Sunshine. She seems pretty sharp.”
    â€œDetective Mendoza is extremely sharp,” I said.
    â€œSo what about you, Mr. Coyne? I figured…”
    â€œI feel sad and guilty about Sunshine,” I said, “but Detective Mendoza is working on her case. It’s the girl who died in my backyard that I’m trying to focus on. Nobody’s working on her case. The police will do their best to find whoever killed Sunshine, but I don’t think anybody’s trying very hard to figure out what happened to the girl. I want to know who she was and why she came into my backyard to die.”
    â€œThey gotta be connected,” said Skeeter. “Sunshine and the girl.”
    â€œSo it seems,” I said. “Sunshine, showing the girl’s picture around and then getting murdered. Seems like more than a coincidence to me.”
    â€œWhoever killed Sunshine did it because of the girl? Is that what you think?”
    â€œI do,” I said. “But what the hell do I know?”

Ten
    I woke up all of a sudden. Henry was curled against my hip, and flickering colored lights were dancing on the bedroom ceiling. I hitched myself into a semisitting position and looked down at the television set at the foot of the bed. A red-and-blue racing car was skidding across the track. It caromed off the wall and went spinning back toward the infield, spewing smoke and gravel. Other cars swerved and skidded around it. One of them smashed into another car’s rear end, flipped, and went tumbling end-over-end down the track.
    It all happened in eerie silence. Somewhere along the way I’d muted the TV.
    Then the phone rang, and my mind registered the memory that it had also rung a moment earlier.
    I groped for the phone beside the bed, pressed it against my ear, and mumbled, “H’lo?”
    â€œI’m sorry,” said Evie. “I woke you up.”
    â€œNo you didn’t.”
    â€œYes I did. Why lie about it? Nothing to be ashamed of, being asleep at…what is it there? A little after midnight? Oh, hell. No. It’s like one-thirty in the morning, right?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. I was watching car racing on ESPN.”
    â€œYou were sleeping,” she said. “You never watch car racing.”
    â€œIt’s SportsCenter . All kinds of news. There was this awesome accident.”
    â€œSports scores are not news,” she said.
    â€œYou usually call earlier.”
    â€œI always call, though, don’t I?”
    â€œI meant to stay awake for your call,” I said.
    â€œLong day?”
    â€œFriday, you know?”
    â€œI just got back to my room,” said Evie. “It’s not even midnight here.”
    â€œOut drinking,” I said.
    â€œSure. With some underwriters from Salt Lake City. Mormons.”
    â€œMen,” I said.
    â€œThere’s no such thing as a female Mormon underwriter,” she said. “We talked about insurance. They drank Diet Dr Pepper. Not me. I had Margaritas. Yum-yum.”
    â€œYou’re a little drunk,” I said.
    â€œA little. Makes me horny. I love you.”
    â€œI love you, too.”
    â€œI’ll be home day after tomorrow. No, wait. Tomorrow, where you are. I’ll be home tomorrow. It’s Saturday already in Massachusetts, right?”
    â€œYou’re pretty blasted, huh?”
    â€œKinda. See, it’s still Friday in Arizona. So I’ll see you, like I said. Day after tomorrow.”
    â€œRight,” I said. “Sunday afternoon. Four-fifty. American West number eight-twenty. Nonstop, Phoenix to Boston. Expensive.”
    â€œThe hospital’s paying,” she said.
    â€œI’ll pick you up at the airport.”
    â€œThat would be dumb,” she said.