Vixen by Bill Pronzini Read Free Book Online Page B

shoulders. “That’s enough, now. Go ahead and change your clothes, and I’ll pack the rest of your things.” Then, to Runyon, “We’ll be ready in a few minutes. It’s quite all right for you to leave now.”
    No, it wasn’t. He backed out and shut the door to give them privacy. Frank was moving around behind him, walking off his anger and humiliation in tight pacing turns. Runyon went to the Ford, backed it up far enough to allow the van clearance, then switched off the engine and got out to stand next to the driver’s door. He didn’t move, watching the sandy-haired hothead continue to pace, until the Becketts came out five minutes later.
    Kenneth Beckett balked when he saw Frank. “Why’d you have to bring him ?” he said to his sister.
    â€œI explained that to you inside, Kenny. Somebody has to drive your van back to the city.”
    â€œNot him, not Chaleen.”
    She seemed not to like the fact that he’d used Frank’s last name. But all she said was, “Would you rather ride with him than me?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œThen please don’t make any more fuss.”
    Runyon moved over to where the two of them stood. Cory Beckett said, “Really, Mr. Runyon. Why are you still here?”
    â€œBecause my job’s not finished until you’re on your way. And because I have the keys to the van.”
    He handed them to her. Frank Chaleen came stomping over, the incipient sneer fully formed now, and took the key ring out of her hand. He said to Runyon, “I hope we cross paths again sometime, buddy. Things’ll be different then.”
    â€œI doubt that.”
    Chaleen stalked away to the van. Kenneth Beckett said to the middle buttons of Runyon’s shirt, “I didn’t mean what I said before. About Cory, about the necklace … I made it all up. I was kind of disoriented, I didn’t know what I was saying.”
    Runyon said nothing. The kid’s words had a dull, recited cadence, like lines delivered by an amateur actor. Coached, he was thinking, as Cory Beckett led her brother to the Camaro. Part of what she’d been whispering into her brother’s ear inside the shack. That, along with Frank Chaleen’s presence and attitude, made him even more convinced that what Beckett had told him earlier was the truth.

 
    7
    â€œShe’s a real piece of work, all right,” Tamara said when I finished giving her a short rundown of my interview with Cory Beckett. The woman’s apparent involvement with Andrew Vorhees didn’t surprise her any more than it had me. “Whatever she’s up to, you can bet it’s more than just being Vorhees’ mistress.”
    â€œIf she is his mistress.”
    â€œOh, yeah. Her name’s on the lease for that Snob Hill apartment, but the monthly rent’s fifty-five hundred. She came out of her marriages pretty well fixed, but not well enough to be living it up without some extra juice. Up until six months ago she and Kenny shared a small apartment in Cow Hollow that rented for about two K.”
    â€œSo you don’t think she could have afforded Abe Melikian’s five-thousand bond commission and whatever collateral she had to put up for the rest.”
    â€œThe five K, maybe, but what do you bet Vorhees supplied the collateral. There’s blog rumors he’s been keeping a woman on the side. Dude’s not exactly what you’d call discreet.”
    â€œHis wife must be a glutton for punishment,” I said. “Otherwise, why not divorce instead of separation.”
    â€œStill loves the dude. Either that, or she doesn’t like to lose what belongs to her.”
    â€œAnd Vorhees doesn’t divorce her because?”
    â€œHe can’t afford to,” Tamara said. “Take him right off the gravy train. He’s got some money of his own, plus whatever payoffs he can get his hands on, but what lets him own a