I was swearing by the time she answered on the fifth ring, sounding serene and unconcerned.“Get out of there,” I said. “Go to the place we were talking about earlier. Don’t take anything, just go. I’ll come back with you tomorrow to help you pack.”She didn’t get rattled, just said she’d be out of the house in five minutes. I hung up and looked at the answering machine. It was on Play, so they’d listened to it, but they’d left the cassette this time.I rewound it and picked around in the rubble trying to figure out what to take while I listened to the messages.Mrs. Yount sobbed into the phone that she knew Fluffy was alive, she could feel it in her heart, and I wasn’t off the case. I should phone her at once. Al Hammond had called, sounding gruff and upset. There didn’t seem to be any Ambrose Harker in the whole world except the one who was alive and well and working at Monument Records, and certainly no Ellis Fauntleroy. To the best of Hammond’s knowledge, no one had been killed in the Santa Monica TraveLodge, although someone had stolen a bedspread and a couple of pillows from room 311, and when could he expect to hear from me, anyway?I wasn’t really crazy about the fact that they’d heard that last message.
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