by JL Wilson
"I normally do. Do you know when Lucinda will be back?"
"Probably after lunch. The meeting's at two o'clock. She always leaves early on Thursday to go to the gym and work out. She should be home around six." He raised an eyebrow and I nodded, taking the hint. I had eight hours to figure out an appropriate apology.
I emerged from the office. The grubby Subaru was gone. Cerberus peered out the back window, his snout poked out the six-inch crack like a periscope questing in enemy waters. What happened? he whined as I approached. Lucinda came out and she was crying. What went wrong? Ooh, look at your face. Who hit you? Did she hit you? What did you say to her?
I got into the car and looked at myself in the rear view mirror. A red handprint stood out on my chicly unshaven cheeks. "Cara hit me."
Cara? That witch? Good heavens, you didn't--
"I'd rather not talk about it." I tossed the prospectus on the passenger seat, where it slid to the floor. I started the car and backed out so abruptly he was thrown once again into the footwell.
Ow. Be careful, would you? Give me some warning. Where are we going? Are we following Lucinda? She turned right when she left the parking lot.
"She's not in any mood to talk right now. I'll go over to her house tonight."
You'd better take a peace offering. He sniffed greedily at outside air as it came into the car. She looked upset.
"I know, I know." I turned left going out of the parking lot. "I'll figure out something."
You'd better make it good. You should take me along too.
"What? You're my peace offering?'
It wouldn't hurt to have the poor doggie with you. I can protect you if she attacks. Cerberus grinned at me in the rear view mirror. I could always eat a few more cookies and you could take me to her for help.
"God forbid." I downshifted and turned onto Minnehaha Parkway, a tree-lined street that meandered through older and pricier neighborhoods.
Where are we going?
"Shut up, would you? I need to think."
I don't know that my being quiet will help, but I'll do it.
"Thank you." I monitored traffic around me but didn't see the sedan that followed us before. In twenty minutes I cleared the city and we were heading south, toward the east suburbs and the Hunt and Horse club where I had a membership. "Behave yourself," I told Cerberus as we pulled into the parking lot. "The dogs here are impeccably trained, well-behaved and know their place."
He snorted in disdain. If humans only knew what dogs think of their masters, they wouldn't let their pooches sleep in the bedroom at night. Lead on, oh Fearless Leader.
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. The club dated back to pioneer days. Different owners had added to it, making it a multi-leveled hodgepodge where it sat on a hill. I stabled a horse here in the 1920s and I had fond memories of riding back roads that were now county highways.
Cerberus followed behind me, to my relief maintaining a perfect heel position. "Thanks for acting like a dog."
He snorted. You know why we don't mind heeling, don't you? Before I could reply, he said, Because it's much easier to hamstring a human when you're walking behind him. He passed me as I stumbled on the bottom step of the wraparound porch where two men stood, their hunting dogs lounging at their booted feet. Both dogs were sleek, heavily muscled and alert.
Hey, Cerberus said to the Doberman who regarded us from his spot at his owner's feet.
The big animal yawned. Hey. New in town?
Just visiting. Cerberus nodded to the other dog, a lean German shorthair who had gotten to his feet to watch us. Be careful what you say, he's a-- And he used some indecipherable word that sounded like "gajja."
Both dogs regarded me with unnerving intensity. I've never seen one before, the German shorthair said. His eyes assessed me from my head to my toes. He looks normal. Say something, would you?
I felt like a circus sideshow attraction. We're just here for some target practice. I nodded to the two men who parted so I could get to the door.
Wow. It is true. Some of them can talk. The shorthair dipped his head to Cerberus. More power to you. I couldn't do it. How do you stand it?
Cerberus looked up at me, then at the front door. He's a quick study for a human. I'm getting him trained.
Their laughter followed us inside. As always, I felt as if I'd stepped back in time and was visiting a grandparent on the farm. What did that mean? I asked as I raised a hand in greeting to Sid, the manager, at his usual spot behind the counter that ran the length of the building. Log furniture dominated the space with trophy heads that peered down at us from recesses in the high walls. Two men and two women, dressed in outdoor gear and seated in front of the fireplace near the dining room doorway, watched us enter.
I'll explain some day. For now, suffice it to say, the animal kingdom is not impressed with the human kingdom and the mental capacities of our so-called masters. Are we really here for some target practice? I thought we were apologizing to Lucinda for our boorish behavior last night while we were drunk.
I glared down at him. We're working on an appropriate strategy.
"Nico, nice to see you again," Sid said. "See you got yourself a dog, finally." He turned doubting eyes on Cerberus, who panted, gulped then drooled on the floor at my feet.
"In a manner of speaking. I'm just helping a friend."
Some help, Cerberus muttered. You made Lucinda cry, you pissed off Cara and...
I managed to tune him out long enough to sign the registration sheet. "Wait here," I said. Then I remembered. "I mean, stay."
Cerberus sagged down on the worn wood floor. No problem. He scratched at one ear, the thunk echoing in the big room. I'll keep an eye on the natives.
I looked at the two couples regarding him with poorly concealed horror. Just don't slobber on their boots.
His laughter echoed in my mind as I followed Sid through the drop gate into the back room. Like a safety deposit vault at a bank, Sid's gun vault required two keys to access any member's locker. I swiped my ID card through the reader and the series of lights on the control panel changed color, opening the inner door. We went to my locker at the end of the row of about forty others and Sid took my key, inserting it in the lock along with the master key he always retained.
"What kind of practice today?" he asked, stepping aside so I could look at my private arsenal.
"Just a bit of target, I think. Is the indoor range available?"
"Yep. Most folks are itching to get outside and shoot. Indoor is empty."
"Good. I need a chance to think." I selected my HK P7 then we locked up and emerged into the main room. Sid unlocked the ammunition vault using the special touch keypad and handed me ten clips for the gun.
Voices came from the dining room, mixed with the clink of silver and glassware. I glanced at Cerberus, who snored in a patch of sunlight on the far side of the room. My guard dog. "Is it okay if he stays here?"
"Sure, if he behaves." Sid looked at the snoozing beast. "Interesting looking animal."
Across the room, Cerberus sighed, twitched then growled, obviously deep in an exciting dream. "That's an understatement."
There is a Zen-like quality to target practice that is soothing and this afternoon was no exception. Within minutes I was in the zone and able to push aside all worry and simply focus. Tension and stress oozed out of me as bullets tore through the target.
Midway through my last clip, a woman came into the far shooting booth, carrying what appeared to be a small Smith & Wesson. I recognized her stocky build and no-nonsense, competent shooting style. It appeared Parker sent someone to meet me after all. Our eyes met and she nodded in acknowledgement. Then she returned to her own target practice, firing an impressive array into the distant bulls-eye.
We met at the unloading boxes near the back of the room. "How goes it, Sheila?" I asked. "Did Parker send you?"
Sheila Bowers was in her late forties, with a round, deceptively humorous face that hid a pragmatic, cold-blooded natu
re and a conscience that matched. Her muscular, square shape attested to her passion for weight lifting. Sheila could probably bench press me without breaking a sweat. She was normally based in St. Louis, but she had worked in the Twin Cities, Omaha and other Midwest locations for as long as I'd been with the Agency.
"Hi, Nico. Yeah, I guess you could say Parker sent me. In a manner of speaking."
I raised an eyebrow in question. She finished emptying her gun and pulled it out, inspecting the chamber just as I did with mine. My side ached suddenly, probably a sympathy pain from the presence of the guns around me. I tried an experimental deep breath and winced.
Sheila noticed. "Problems?"
I shook my head. "Just bruised. So why are you visiting our fair cities?"
"Parker gave me a call." Sheila pushed back the Chicago White Sox baseball cap that contained her short wavy brown hair. "He said I might like to make a visit to the Mall of America." She winked at me. "That's our nickname for you, because of your clothes."
I frowned, remembering Lucinda's exasperation with my appearance. "Why are women offended by my sense of style?"
"I wouldn't say offended. Amused, maybe. I mean, let's face it. You don't need clothes to make the man. In fact, in your case, I'd say fewer clothes would really make the man, if you get my drift." She grinned at the wary look I shot her. "Calm down, honey, you know my shingle doesn't swing your way. You're safe. Anyway, Parker called me. He said he heard that developers might put a shopping mall like the Mall of America in Paris. The Mall of America might end up in a similar spot, he said. His words exactly."
I stowed the HK back into leather carrying case I used. "Interesting choice of words." Sheila had been my backup in a Paris operation where we took out a cop who played a double game, working for terrorists. "So you're here in a similar capacity? Parker felt I needed backup?"
"Unofficially." She tucked her pistol into the leather satchel at her feet. "Parker suggested it might be pleasant to see the flower show at the Mall." She snorted. "Tulips. Yeah, right. But what the hell, Joannie likes flowers, so she's having a good time."
Joannie was Sheila's partner. She was as petite as Sheila was burly, but she matched, if not exceeded, Sheila in bloody-mindedness. They made a formidable team.
"Were you two following me earlier?" I asked as we left the range, heading back down the hall to the main room of the club. "Someone was behind me as I left the house this morning."
"Nope. It must have been somebody else in your fan club. Who else is interested in you? Besides that pissed-off woman at Delacroix Labs, of course."
I fumbled opening the door for her and almost smashed my face. "How did you know about--" Then I shook my head. I was getting a serious case of the Stupids. Parker probably had assorted cars as well as offices bugged. He never took chances.
Her low chuckle said she caught my error. "I have to admit, I was surprised when I saw her. She doesn't seem your type. That floozy sister seems more your kind of woman. You know, somebody with nice tits and--"
"I get the point. Thanks for that assessment of my intelligence."
Cerberus looked up at the sound of our voices as we entered the lobby. Where'd you get to? I was starting to get worried. Then he yawned and blinked.
Don't slip into a coma with concern. I went to the counter where Sid and I repeated our routine. When we emerged from the gun vault, Cerberus was parked at Sheila's feet, staring raptly at her as she examined announcements on the Member's bulletin board.
"Nice club," she commented, rubbing Cerberus' head as he leaned on her. "How long have you been a member?"
I almost said Ninety years but stopped myself in time. "A while." I looked down at Cerberus. "I see you've met."
"I figured you for an Irish setter or some classy dog like that. This guy," and she looked down at Cerberus, who gazed up at her with the kind of attention he normally reserved for food, "he doesn't seem your kind of mutt."
I was getting a tired of being typecast. "He's not a permanent addition to my image." I strode past Sheila to the front door.
"Well, you know what they say. A dog is a babe magnet." Sheila's hearty chuckle echoed behind me. "Like you need a magnet. Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know I'm in town." She held out a slip of paper. "There's my contact info. Keep in touch with me. Let me know if you need anything. Joannie and I are glad to help."
I glanced at the paper and the numbers printed there. "Thanks, Sheila." I tucked the paper in my pocket and gestured Cerberus ahead of me. "Are you here for another reason?"
Her amused expression vanished and her face smoothed into a façade of cautious blandness. "Say what?"
"Did Parker decide I needed a backup on the hit too? Are you here to follow through in case I can't?"
She slipped on her sunglasses as we walked to the parking lot. "I can't say. Why, are there problems? From what I understand, this one's important. Parker sounded anxious about it." We paused by a big SUV. Sheila tapped in the code on the driver's door keypad and I heard the brief buzz of the security system being released.
"In what way?"
She paused as she opened the door. I know her eyes were examining me behind the reflective lenses of her glasses. "I think Lucinda Delacroix is going to be a casualty of war. I've done some poking around and there are people behind a man at Delacroix Labs who..." She once again touched her baseball cap. "Let me put it this way. There's a lot of slime near Miss Delacroix. Be careful it doesn't drag you down." She got behind the wheel of the SUV and peered down at me.
"You mean Masterson?"
"Masterson?" Sheila frowned at me, surprised. "No. I'm talking about Fairchild. Look out for him, Nico. He's in over his head in gambling debts to a really unsavory group. They're closing in. Be careful. The man's dangerous, if only by association." She drove away with a cavalier wave and a shouted "Call if you need me."
I considered her news as I drove home. I hadn't had time to dig deeply into John Fairchild's finances but I believed Sheila's assessment. She was a good researcher who wouldn't mess up anything as prosaic as a financial check. It appeared Lucinda was surrounded by men who could only cause her harm--me, Meyer and now Fairchild. She was like a sacrificial lamb, staked out and exposed.
When Cerberus and I pulled into the driveway, we passed Wayne Taylor at the mailboxes for our street located at the end of my drive. He watched as the dog emerged from the car then ambled out to sniff around the yard, examining every bush as though it was fresh from the nursery and newly planted.
"How's it going, Nico?" he asked.
"Fine, Wayne. How are you?" I joined him at the mailbox. I kept a post office box for serious correspondence, saving the home address for periodicals and minor bills. I flipped through the mail, wondering how I was going to make it up to Lucinda. I was probably damned forever in her eyes. It did look bad, of course, but if I could get her to listen to reason, maybe--
"Apologize," Wayne said.
My head snapped up. "I beg your pardon?"
He smiled at me, looking angelic with his wispy white hair and round face. "Edna told me about your lady friend yesterday. I recognize that look on your face. I've seen it in the mirror enough times. Just apologize. It's easier. Doesn't matter who's right or who's wrong, just apologize. Trust me. I've had eighty years of experience dealing with the opposite sex."
I almost told him that I had two hundred years of experience, none of which had helped me today, but I held my tongue. "I suppose you're right. But she jumped to conclusions."
So did you, Cerberus said as he pissed on a juniper at the side of the garage. You jumped to conclusions about Meyer.
I glared at him. He'd been mercifully quiet on the drive home, giving me ample time to stew.
"I'll tell Edna you won't be coming to the potluck tonight." Wayne winked at me. "You've got some apologizing to do."
I sighed. He was right. "I'll get that lasagna I made. You may as well enjoy it."
"Take it as a peace offering," he sugge
sted. "Women like a man who can cook. Edna goes crazy for my pancakes." He waggled his eyebrows
Peace offering, Cerberus commented, sniffing around the mailbox post. Great minds think alike.
I opened the garage door and the dog bounded ahead of me. "Hold on, Wayne," I called back. "I'll give you half." I went inside and put the one casserole into a picnic basket with the Velveteen Rabbit, the hard-boiled eggs and dye kits and the tiramisu. Then I came back out and handed the other dish to Wayne. "Tell Edna I'm sorry I couldn't attend." I tucked the picnic basket into the trunk of the Jag, away from inquisitive dogs. "You're right, though. I'd better get over there and start explaining."
He took the dish. "Edna will understand. Some things are more important than socializing. I remember one time..."
My cell phone in my jacket pocket rang. I pulled it out and checked the screen, recognizing the number as one Sheila gave me. "Sorry, Wayne. I need to take this." I opened the phone as Wayne continued to reminisce about his past romantic encounters.
"Nico, it's Sheila. There's a problem."
"What kind of problem?" I frowned as Wayne juggled his casserole dish and his mail, trying to keep it all out of the reach of Cerberus, who was edging closer for a sniff. "Dog, get away from that, you can't have any," I muttered. "What are you, a bottomless pit?"
It smells good. You'll share with me, won't you?
Wayne chuckled and turned away. "I'll get this home before thievery is done. Talk to you later, Nico."
Sheila said something, but I didn't catch it. "What?"
"I said Joannie just called me. She was tailing your lady friend, Lucinda. Looks like somebody decided to help you out with your job. Miss Delacroix had a car accident on the freeway going to her house. Somebody drove her off the road. There's an ambulance on the scene right now." Sheila paused then said, "It looks bad. You'd better get out there."
Chapter Fourteen
Sheila's words reverberated in my brain as I drove. "Joannie said that a big SUV came out of nowhere. Miss Delacroix didn't stand a chance. The rescue team was probably going to cut her out of the car."
