Richard Mabry - Lethal Remedy

"That one's four hundred and eighty dollars, but I might be able to do better than that." Sara waved the pistol back and forth in a "no you don't" gesture, enjoying the look on the man's face as she used the weapon to make her point. "You will definitely do better than that, since this tag hanging from the trigger guard says four hundred thirty." "Oh, I must have misremembered," Wes said. "I guess that's the price, then." "Do you really want this sale? I can go to any of the stores around here, drop a credit card on the counter, and buy this gun for that price with a box of. 38 caliber cartridges thrown in." With the revolver still in her right hand, she opened her purse and reached in with her left, coming out with four crisp one hundred dollar bills. She put them on the counter, but kept her hand on them.

"I'll give you four hundred cash, and I want the Taurus, a box of ammunition, and a cleaning kit." Wes was silent for a moment, but she could tell by the expression on his face that she'd won. "Okay, I guess I can do that. And I'll be glad to keep it for you until you get your concealed handgun license. I've got the forms here somewhere."

Sara put the gun on the counter, opened her wallet, and produced a laminated card about the size of a driver's license. The upper left portion carried the word Texas in flowing script, with the words Concealed Handgun License centered along the top. Sara's picture smiled out from the left side of the license. Wes checked the expiration date and said, "Okay, looks like this is good for another year." She tapped the four bills. "So is it a sale?" The bills disappeared into Wes's pocket. "Sure. Let me get you a box of ammo and the cleaning kit."

A peculiar double-buzz beside him brought Jack Ingersoll awake with a start. He opened his eyes and looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn't his bedroom. The walls were done in a subtle print of plum on a gold background. The bed where he lay was smaller than his own king-sized one. The source of the buzzing was a phone on a bedside table to his left, not in its familiar position to his right. Heavy drapes were half-open, revealing deep twilight outside.

He fumbled the receiver offits cradle. "Dr. Ingersoll." "Herr Professor, you wished to be awakened at seventeen thirty hours."

"Thanks. Er, Danke." He hung up the phone and let his thoughts settle.

He was in Germany, for the international conference. This was a five-star hotel, the Hessis… something or other. He had an important presentation to make tomorrow, but tonight there were a cocktail reception and by-invitation dinner for the speakers and VIP's. His head was still fuzzy, the combined effects of an overnight transatlantic flight, too much complimentary champagne on the aircraft, and the worst jet lag he'd ever experienced. He stumbled out of bed and found that he'd slept in his shirt and pants. He pulled a plastic laundry bag offa hanger in the closet and consigned his wrinkled clothes and dirty linen to it. Half an hour later, fresh from a shower and shave, Ingersoll adjusted the knot in his red paisley tie, tugged the cuffs of his white shirt from the sleeves of his dark blue suit, and prepared to leave his room. He had one hand on the doorknob when the peculiar ring of the phone stopped him. He checked his watch and found it was still on U.S. time. The bedside clock showed five minutes until six. Oh, well. It wouldn't hurt to be a few minutes late to the cocktail party. He expected it to be a bore, but as a speaker he supposed he should put in an appearance. He lifted the receiver and answered. "Jack, is that you?" Bob Wolfe's voice betrayed none of the fatigue Jack felt. "Yes. Is this Bob?" "Right. I presume you're going to the Messe." "What?" "The conference center. Sorry. I get over here enough that I've picked up some German, and I tend to lapse into it." Wolfe chuckled. "I was headed over for the cocktail party myself, and wondered if you'd like to walk over together."

Ingersoll's immediate reaction was "No." Wolfe probably wanted to squeeze him some more, make sure he hewed to the company line. Then again, Wolfe was the direct line to Jandra's purse strings, and Ingersoll needed to make sure they didn't suddenly tighten. "Sure," he said. "Are you at the Hess… the main hotel?" "The Hessischer Hof.

Yes, I'm in the lobby right now. I'll wait here for you." "See you in a few minutes." Ingersoll depressed the cradle, dialed the operator, and arranged for his laundry and dry cleaning to be picked up from his room while he was gone. He rummaged through his briefcase until he found his registration slip for the conference. Then, as reluctant as a boy on his way to school without having done his homework, he stepped into the hall and looked for the elevator. Wolfe rose from one of the sofas in the lobby as Ingersoll approached. "Would you like a drink in the bar here before we face the crowd?" Ingersoll looked at his watch, which told him it was a quarter past noon in Dallas. "I've got to reset that," he mumbled. "It's six fifteen local time," Wolfe volunteered. "Your dinner is at seven thirty. It'll take you fifteen minutes to pick up your registration packet and badge. Unless you then want to stand around at the cocktail party for an hour, talking to doctors whose accents make it impossible to understand them, I'd suggest we have a drink here first." They found a quiet corner in the bar and ordered. A patron two tables away lit a cigarette, and Ingersoll waved his hand in front of his face. "I keep forgetting how many people in Europe still smoke. "It makes me appreciate my non-smoking room," Ingersoll said. "By the way, thanks for the upgraded accommodations. If I read the signs correctly, all the rooms on that floor are nonsmoking." "No problem. We just want you to be happy," Wolfe said. And you want me to keep you happy, too, I'll bet.

"So far I have no complaints." "Have you finished the PowerPoint for your presentation tomorrow?" "I put the finishing touches on it during the flight over. I think it'll go well." "You have it on your laptop?"

"Uh, of course." Ingersoll was uncomfortable with the way this was going. "Tell you what." Wolfe drained the last of his drink. "Let's pop back upstairs to your room for a minute and I'll copy it onto this." He produced a small keychain drive from his pocket. "I'll review it while you're at the VIP dinner, and if I see any errors I can let you know in the morning." Ingersoll sat stunned. "I, I… "

"You don't mind, do you?" Wolfe signaled for the check. "After all, we're all in this together." Ingersoll had already finished his drink.

He lifted the glass to his lips, tapped it, and crunched the single ice cube that slid into his mouth. Yeah, we're in this together. But it's pretty clear now who's calling the tune.

Ingersoll sneaked a look at his watch, now set to the correct time. Only another half hour until the cocktail party for all the conference attendees would be over. Already those who'd been here since the party began were drifting out to have dinner. Most of those remaining wore nametags with one or more colored ribbons that proclaimed they were a speaker, moderator, panelist, or officer of one of the sponsoring societies. " Entshuldig." Someone jostled his elbow, but fortunately the glass he held was almost empty. He supposed he'd just heard the German word for "excuse me." "No damage done," he said, and turned to find Dr. Gruber standing there with another man.

Gruber's companion was a red-faced man who seemed to be stuffed into his ill-cut brown suit like a sausage in a casing. He wore horn-rimmed glasses and an expression of concern. The man stuck out his hand.

"Professor Ingersoll, I am Dr. Rohde. I believe my colleague, Dr.

Gruber, mentioned me." Rohde continued to pump Ingersoll's hand. "It is an honor to meet you." There was a tap on his shoulder. "Professor Ingersoll, we'll be leaving in a moment. Please meet us at the doorway." "Well, gentlemen, I'm sorry not to be able to visit with you," Ingersoll said, relieved at his rescue. "As you see, I have to leave now." Disappointment clouded Rohde's face. "I understand," he said. "I had several questions for you. But I will ask them during the open discussion after your paper tomorrow. Auf wiedersehen." As Ingersoll moved toward the door, he wondered if he'd avoided an uncomfortable conversation this evening, or been set up for a potentially disastrous public grilling tomorrow.