Chapter 19

Tuesday, June 29, 8:55 a.m.

Phelps paid the cabbie and entered the busy Charlotte-Mecklinberg Airport. Leaving Twin Rivers at 3:30 a.m., he had exercised the utmost care in approaching the old Chevy on the deserted street, entering it, and driving immediately out of Twin Rivers by the most direct route.

During the long drive to Charlotte, he planned, as carefully as he could, the means of deserting the car. He finally left it in a small suburban shopping mall on the far side of the city, keys in the ignition, doors unlocked, every surface of the interior wiped clean.

He had taken pains to call a cab only after departing the immediate area of the shopping center. Riding into the central city, he dismissed the cab, walked four blocks, and hailed a second cab to take him to the airport. Phelps was satisfied: if the Chevy were to be found, it would be difficult indeed to connect it to him.

Despite the car's unpalatable appearance, Phelps knew there was an excellent chance it would be stolen; he hoped so. One more "owner" between him and his three-day-old crime would be welcome.

The most convenient flight out of Charlotte was heading for Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, rather than Columbia. He took it, deciding to spend a day or two in the resort town before heading back to Twin Rivers.

By noon, he was enjoying a surprisingly good lunch at an outdoor restaurant overlooking the Strand. The beach area was much more commercial, more tawdry, than was the small beach near Twin Rivers. No matter. There were beautiful women everywhere he looked. Perhaps he wouldn't want to live here, but it was a splendid place to visit.