“It means,” he said, “that you’re still not safe. I probably don’t have to tell you that, but I just don’t want your desire to find out who killed him to lead to your getting hurt-or worse.”

“I can’t just roll over and play dead, either, Frank.”

“Well,” he said, a little exasperation edging into his voice. “I guess you’re going to do whatever you want to do anyway.”

“Right.”

He was quiet the rest of walk. I kept thinking of things to get a conversation going, but the problem was that I knew I was being difficult. And I didn’t like to admit it. But as we reached the car, I turned to him.

“Don’t pay attention to me today. In fact, if you could erase the last ten minutes from your memory tapes, I’d appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I drove back to Lydia’s. On the way, I remembered another one of those sayings O’Connor was always pulling out of his hat. “It never does any good to tell another person ‘Don’t worry,’” he said.

He was right. Frank’s parting words aside, I was worried about the effect my emotional state might have on-on what? Hell, I didn’t even know what-our friendship? Our relationship?

My mood did not improve.

LYDIA WAS SURPRISED to see me walk back into the house, but didn’t say anything about the brevity of my visit with Frank. She may have been scared off by the dark scowl I found myself wearing as I came in. I realized I needed to smooth things over with her.

“Look, Lydia, about the Hollingsworth-Longren thing. I’m sorry I was so short with you this afternoon.”

“You’re just having a bad day, Irene. Besides, I’ve been sitting here thinking about it. I wondered how Jennifer could be pregnant by one of them, when Richard Longren had already been here for years and Andrew Hollingsworth was in his final year at Harvard.”

I felt the rug being pulled out from under my feet. I had been so concerned with proving it was Hollingsworth that I hadn’t asked myself the obvious questions about why it might not be him after all. Such as the fact that he was probably miles away from Jennifer when she got pregnant. “Lydia, you know how most people get wiser with age? I think I’m getting dumber.”

“Oh, you hadn’t thought of that?”

“No. Obvious as it is, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, wait a minute, Irene, maybe there is some way it could have happened. Let’s see. How far along was she?”

“Somewhere around two months.”

She counted back on her fingers. “June to May, one month, May to April, two months. April. Maybe she traveled to Boston or Las Piernas in the spring of 1955.”

“Not likely. She was poor. She didn’t even have enough money to buy her bus fare all the way to Las Piernas in June.”

“Hmm. Let’s consider it the other way around then. Maybe one of them went to Arizona.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, why not at least look into what was going on in April of 1955? Maybe something will ring a bell.”

“Maybe, but I can hardly go up to the two of them and ask, ‘Where were you in April of 1955?’ Besides, it could have been late March as well. They only estimated that she was two months along. And the father and the killer might be different people altogether.”

“What would make a young woman leave home like that unless she thought someone was going to take care of her when she arrived at her destination?”

“Yeah. And all they did was feed her a taco and kill her. I don’t know. Maybe when she arrived here in June, she never even got together with the guy who got her pregnant. Maybe some homicidal maniac got to her before she even met up with the guy again.”

“Oh sure, a homicidal maniac. After all that’s happened, you can’t possibly believe that. There’s got to be a connection-Elaine Tannehill’s murder would be proof enough.”

“You’re right. There is a connection. I just can’t figure out who’s holding the other end.”

“Well, let’s think about it. She got pregnant in March or April.”

We sat and thought.

“Spring break,” I said at last. “Andrew Hollingsworth could have spent his spring break in Phoenix.”

“Right! And Longren could have come up with some reason to be in Phoenix for a few days, too. He was already on the council then, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. I’ll check the microfilm for March and April of 1955. Maybe it will mention some trip.” I was excited again. If I could place either one of them in Phoenix during the time Jennifer would have become pregnant, I would have gone a long way toward building a case for at least linking them to all that had been going on.

“Have you talked to Frank about any of this?” Lydia asked.

“Sore subject.”

“You two fight?”

“No, I was just real bitchy to him. You know what I need, Lydia? A nap. I think I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

“Probably a good idea. But think about catching him up on all of this. I still worry that someone is after you, and I’d like the police to get to the killer before he gets to you.”

I yawned and nodded. “Okay, I’ll talk to Frank.” I went back into the bedroom and peeled off my clothes. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I WOKE UP in darkness. I was completely disoriented for a few minutes. Cody walked up to my face and nuzzled me, and I felt a little calmer. I looked over at the clock radio. Nine o’clock. I had slept over six hours. I wondered how much that was going to screw up my sleep patterns.

I sat up and stretched. I went out into the living room. Lydia was gone, but there was a note saying she was going to meet Kevin Malloy and some reporters from the Express down at Calhoun’s and to join them if I felt like it. I considered it, but decided that I wasn’t ready to go out to a place I associated so strongly with O’Connor. God knows when I’d ever go to Banyon’s again.

I fidgeted around for a while and finally picked up the phone and called Frank. We did our now routine exchange of last names.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“An apology. Sorry about this afternoon. I’ve had some sleep now, so I can probably talk to you without biting your head off.”

“You had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t excuse my bad manners. Anyway, I apologize.”

“Well, I’ve had some sleep myself. I knocked off not long after you left.”

“Think you’ll be up for a while?” I asked.

“All night, I’m afraid. And I’ve got to report in tomorrow.”

“I’m in the same boat. If we don’t make too late an evening of it, want to go out for a drink somewhere?”

“Sure-how about the Stowaway?”

The Stowaway is a small, quiet, and casual bar that has a terrific ocean view. It’s not a place to go if you’re in a rowdy mood or up for anything fancy, which suited me fine.

“Sounds great,” I said. “You want me to drive?”

“I’ll come by for you. I don’t think I can handle the Karmann Ghia until my ribs heal a little more.”

“Give me about half an hour.”

I ran in and took a quick shower to wake myself up and changed into my favorite pair of jeans and a white blouse. I was just putting on my sandals when the doorbell rang.

Frank was wearing shorts again, and we spent a moment looking each other over. Cody came up to the entryway and gave him a yowl of greeting.

“Hey, there, Cody.” He picked the big lug up and scratched him affectionately.

“You’re brave,” I said, noticing that he still had a thin line on his face where Cody had dug the deepest.

“So is Cody. I’m glad to see he’s not afraid of me.”

He set Cody down gently and we made our way out the door.

We drove in silence to the Stowaway. The bar is dark and plain on the inside, no attempt to compete with the scenery outside its one wall of long windows. It was built on three levels, so that anywhere you sat, you had an unobstructed view of the water.