Mathew found a small single table in the corner of the bar and waited until he felt secure enough to reveal his presence.

"Mr. Patton!" Oscar came to the table, his face lit up in surprise. "How are you doin'? That was quite an experience last time I saw you."

Mathew placed a finger over his lips, whispering. "Can we talk a minute?"

Oscar turned and checked the customers at the bar then dropped into a chair beside Mathew. "What is it, Mr. Patton?"

Ten minutes later Mathew had learned about his intoxicated behaviour and how he wound up with the 'woman', as Oscar had described her. He made Oscar accept money for the bar tab that had been waved, thanked him for his help and asked him to call the motel phone number if she came in again. Next stop would be the front desk.

Rodney gave the young desk clerk a wicked smile and leaned down on one forearm. She grinned nervously at her reflection in the massive sun glasses and fumbled her fingers over the computer keyboard.

"Yes, Mr. Patton had a room for one night on that date; it was prepaid in cash." She prodded the hair beside her ear and blinked.

"Does it show any flags regarding his stay when he checked out?" Rodney's smile grew.

"Uhm, no, but like I said it was prepaid." Rodney straightened up, tapping his flattened fingers on the counter. "I could ask Mr. Tuttle our manager . . ." She blurted, when she saw he was leaving.

"No, that's fine. I'm sure anything out of the ordinary would have been on there." He aimed his head at the computer, flashed another grin and left.

Mathew stood stunned at the end of the counter, a tourist brochure held shakily in front of his face. That whole conversation he just overheard was about him! Percy was trying to find him . . . and he was using that guy who looked like Shaft to do it! Gathering himself he reasoned that the man might lead him to Constance if they were all hired by Percy. At the very least he'd know if his motel hideaway was in danger of being discovered.

When the man headed for the bar, Mathew changed plans instantly. He knew Oscar would freely give up the fact the he was just there, not out of any intentional harm, just his natural, good natured character. Mathew slipped into the hotel boutique and found a floppy hat and some glasses then took up a station in the lobby lounge area with sight lines to the bar.

When the Rodney came into the lobby he paused and looked around, his hidden eyes seemed to find Mathew immediately, at least it felt that way to him. He shrank down behind his trusty brochure and prayed silently. After a beat, Rodney crossed the lobby and out the front doors of the hotel.

Quickly, Mathew hurried after him and was lucky enough to see the man step into a taxi.

In the best tradition of a Hollywood film, he jumped into his own and ordered the driver to, 'Follow that cab!'.

*******

Humphrey stood in a shadowed corner of the hotel drive and when he saw Rodney emerge from a taxi he signalled with his newspaper. Mathew's taxi pulled to a stop on the street in front of the hotel and he swore aloud when he saw Humphrey and the man huddling together.

"That son-of-a-bitch, Borden!"

"You bein' jilted?" The cabbie asked, following Mathew's glare.

"Huh, what?"

"Them two." The driver pointed. "Your partner playin' around?"

"My part-- no! What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't tee off on me, pal. I was just ready to commiserate with you."

"Commiser--just mind your business and drive the cab." Mathew pulled a disgusted face.

"Sure thing. Where to?"

"I don't know, just wait until I tell you."

"You just did!" The expression he received turned him around in the seat, both hands on the wheel and eyes straight ahead.

Rodney put some papers in his jacket, nodded to Humphrey then got back in his cab.

"Now. Drive now and follow that taxi again."

********

Lillian wandered about the empty house, worry gnawing at her nerves not knowing what was happening. She climbed the stairs to the bedroom and saw the things Mathew had discarded when he packed his bag to leave. A sudden rush of emotional pain overwhelmed her and she sank onto the bed, sobbing.

Her tissue fell from her hand and she got down on the carpet to pick it up, noticing the corner of a carton under the bed. Opening it she found the contents from Mathew's office and as she shuffled through them she found a small framed picture of the two of them in front of the Blue Shoals Villa.

"That was right after we bought it," she said aloud, sniffling. Several other items brought back memories of company events and a few awards Mathew had acquired lingered in her fingers with a tinge of regret. The ringing of the telephone jarred her and she hastily stuffed the contents and the box back under the bed.

"Lillian? Humphrey here . . . Lillian? You there?"

"Yes, yes. I was upstairs and--," she let out a huge sigh. "What is it, Humphrey, some news?"

"I called in some favours and I think we now know where Mathew is holed up."

"You make him sound like a fugitive, Humphrey."

"Sorry . . . I have a man tracking him down now and what I need is for you to meet with me, bring the divorce papers and as soon as my man brings him to us, we'll get him to sign."

"This man -- he's not going to hurt Mathew . . .?"

"No, no. He's a professional skip tracer I've used in the past. Very good and efficient. Now I'm at the Chester, room four-oh-nine. Can you get right over?"

"I don't have a car!"

"Call a taxi, Lillian."

"Oh dear, I suppose I could . . ." She heard Humphrey moan and hang up.

********

Mathew paid the driver and loitered behind the corner of the motel office, watching the man he had followed look at his car and then go up to his unit. He thought that by leaving it here they wouldn't be able to track him. Obviously that was wrong thinking.

The man was walking toward the office and Mathew drew further back out of sight. It suddenly occurred to him that he was behaving like a criminal, hiding and sneaking about. What was he afraid of? He didn't do anything wrong. It was bloody Percy and his lovely wife that were driving his actions. Stupid! Just step up and tell them to bugger off!

Emotionally armed with a righteous belief in his conclusions, Mathew marched the length of the drive to his car, climbed in and sped off the lot, startling the man he had followed; he saw a raised fist in his mirror.

********

"You told me not to contact you until I had something concre--"

"I know what I told you, I told you didn't I? So what have you got?"

"Nothing concrete." Humphrey bit off the reply and swore under his breath.

"Well what the hell have you been doing, Borden? Time line, remember the time line?"

"At this moment I am awaiting the arrival of both your-- Mathew's wife and my man, who has tracked Mathew down." He felt the beginning of a head ache.

"So are the papers ready then"

"I just said I am awaiting their arrivals. When they get here I'm sure it will only be a matter of minutes and I will have what you need."

"Call me the minute you have it and Humphrey, use my private line okay. Don't want prying ears."

"Is this your private line?"

"No. I'm calling out not in. Jesus, Borden."

Humphrey's head dropped forward as he hung up, the ache laughing its way over his crown and down his neck.

Lillian found him slouched in a chair by the window of his room when she arrived.

"Not here yet?" She moved to where he sat and shook his shoulder. "Humphrey?"

His head lifted and she saw the watery eyes and the thread of drool at the corner of his mouth.

"Humphrey? Are you ill?" The eyes closed and a wheeze issued from between his lips. "Humphrey? Do you need help? Should I call someone?" The nod was barely discernable.

Immediately Lillian rushed to the phone and asked for a number. She turned as she heard the strangled gasp and shouted into the phone, "Percy! Something terrible is happening."