Рита Браун - Pay Dirt

"Is that how she met Roddy? Oh, she never told me that." Mim relished the tale.

Harry whispered again to Little Marilyn, "A trip down Memory Lane. I'm going to collect Mrs. Murphy and Tucker and head home."

Once home, she called Cynthia Cooper, who was already informed of the bogus inks and postmarks.

"Coop, I had a thought."

"Yeah?"

"Did you go by Hassett's to see if anyone there remembered Kerry buying the gun?"

"One of the first things I did after Hogan was killed."

"And?"

"The paperwork matched, the driver's license numbers matched up."

"But the salesman—"

"He'd gone on vacation. A month's camping in Maine. Ought to be back right about now."

"You'll go back, of course."

"I will—but I'm hoping I don't have to."

"What are you up to?"

"Can't tell."

"

44

Cynthia Cooper never expected Frank Kenton to be attractive. She waited in the airport lobby holding a sign with his name on it. When a tall, distinguished man approached her, an earring in his left ear, she thought he was going to ask for directions.

"Deputy Cooper?"

"Mr. Kenton?"

"The same."

"Uh—do you have any luggage?"

"No. My carry-on is it."

As they walked to the squad car, he apologized for how angry he had been the first time she phoned him. Gruff as he'd been, he wasn't angry at her. She declared that she quite understood.

The first place to which she drove him was Kerry McCray's house. Rick Shaw awaited them, and as they all three approached the front door, Kerry hurried out to greet them, Kyle right behind her. Frank smiled at her. "I've never seen you before in my life."

"Thank you. Thank you." Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Lady, I haven't done a thing."

As Frank and Cynthia climbed back into the squad car, Cynthia exhaled. "I'm half-glad Kerry isn't Malibu and half-disappointed. One always hopes for an easy case—would you like lunch? Maybe we should take a food break before we push on."

"Fine with me."

Mrs. Hogendobber waved as Cynthia cruised by the post office. The deputy pulled a U-turn and stopped. She ran into the post office.

"Hi, how are you this morning?" Miranda smiled.

"I'm okay. What about yourself?"

"A little tired."

"Where's Harry and the zoo?"

"She's up at Ash Lawn with Little Marilyn, Aysha, and Ottoline."

"What in the world is she doing there, and what is Aysha doing there? Norman's hardly cold."

Mrs. Hogendobber frowned. "I know, but Aysha said she was going stir crazy, so she drove up to gather up her things there as well as Laura Freely's. Marilyn's lost two docents, so she's in a fix. Anyway, she begged to have Harry for a day, since she knows the place so well. Harry asked me and I said fine. Of course, she's not a William and Mary graduate, but in a pinch a Smithie will do. Litde Marilyn needs to train a new batch of docents fast."

Cynthia stood in the middle of the post office. She looked out the window at Frank in the air-conditioned car, then back to Mrs. Hogendobber. "Mrs. H., I have a favor to ask of you."

"Of course."

"Call Litde Marilyn. Don't speak to anyone but her. She's got to keep Aysha there until I get there."

"Oh, dear. Kerry's out on bail. I never thought of that." Miranda's hand, tipped in mocha mist nail polish today, flew to her face. "I'll get right on it."

Then Cynthia darted into Market Shiflett's, bought two homemade sandwiches, drinks, and Miranda's peach cobbler.

She hopped in the squad car. "Frank, here. There's been a change of plans. Hang on." She hit the siren and flew down 240, shooting through the intersection onto 250, bearing right to pick up 1-64 miles down the road.

"You'll love the peach cobbler," she informed a bug-eyed Frank.

"I'm sure—but I think I'll wait." He smiled weakly.

Once she'd maneuvered onto 1-64, heading east, she said, "It's a straightaway for about fifteen miles, then we'll hit twisty roads again. I don't know how strong your stomach is. If it's cast iron, eat."

"I'll wait. Where are we going?"

"Ash Lawn, home of James Monroe. We get off onto Route 20 South and then hang a left up the road past Monticello. I'm hitting ninety, but I can't go much more than forty once we get on the mountain road. Another fifteen, twenty minutes and we're there." She picked up her pager and told headquarters where she was going. She asked for backup—just in case.

"She's a real cobra."

"I know."

Cynthia turned off the siren two miles from Ash Lawn. She drove down the curving tree-lined drive, turning left into the parking lot, and drove right up to the gift shop. "Ready?"

"Yes." Frank was delighted to escape from the car.

Harry noticed that Little Marilyn was unusually tense. She hoped it wasn't because she was failing as a docent. Harry shepherded her group through the house, telling diem where to step down and where to watch their heads. She pointed out pieces of furniture and added tidbits about Monroe's term of office.

Mrs. Murphy and Tucker had burrowed under the huge boxwoods. The earth was cooler than the air.

Aysha was underneath the house collecting the last of Laura Freely's period clothing as well as her own. Ottoline was helping her.

Cynthia and Frank walked to the front door as nonchalantly as possible. Harry was just opening the side door to let out her group as Cynthia and Frank entered through the front.

As it was lunch hour, the visitors to Ash Lawn who would be in the next tour group, which was Marilyn's, had chosen to sit under the magnificent spreading trees, drinking something ice cold.

Harry was surprised to find Cynthia there.

"This is Frank Kenton from San Francisco."

Harry held out her hand. "Welcome to Ash Lawn."

"It's okay, Harry, you don't have to give him the tour." Cynthia smiled tensely.

Little Marilyn, having been warned by Miranda, contained her nervousness as best she could. "Should I call her now?"

"Yes," Cynthia replied.

The candlesticks shook in their holders as Little Marilyn walked by. After a few minutes she returned widi Aysha and Ottoline.

Aysha froze at the sight of Frank.

"That's Malibu," he quietly said.

"No!" Ottoline screamed.

Aysha spun around, grabbed Harry, and dragged her into die living room. Ottoline slammed the doors. When Cynthia tried to pursue her, a bullet smashed through the door, just missing her head.

"Get out of here, all of you!" Cynthia commanded.

Marilyn and Frank hurried outside. Marilyn, mindful of her duty, quickly herded the visitors down to the parking lot. The wail of a siren meant help was coming.

Mrs. Murphy leapt up. " Mom. Mom. Are you okay ?"

Tucker, without a sound, scooted out from under the boxwood and shot toward the house.

Mrs. Murphy squeezed through the front door which was slightly ajar. Tucker had a harder time of it, but managed.

Cynthia was crouched down, her back to the wall by the door into the living room. Her gun was held at the ready. "Come on out, Aysha. Game's up."

"I've got a gun in my hand."

"Won't do you any good."

Aysha laughed. "If I shoot you first it will."

Ottoline called out, "Cynthia, let her go. Take me in her place. She's lost her husband. She's not in her right mind."

Cynthia noticed the cat and dog. "Get out of here."

Mrs. Murphy tore out the front door. Tucker waited a moment, gave Cynthia a soulful look, then followed her feline friend.

"Tucker, around the side. Maybe I can get in a window."

They heard Harry's voice. "Aysha, give yourself up. Maybe things will go easier for you."

"Shut up!"

The sound of Harry's beloved voice spurred on both animals. Mrs. Murphy raced to the low paned window. Closed. Ash Lawn was air-conditioned. Both cat and dog saw Harry being held at gunpoint in the middle of the room.