John Lescroart - Treasure Hunt

“We go by convoy,” Rand added. “All the way out to the Cliff House you want.”

Hunt half turned back to Tamara. “This is a tough call, but I’m thinking we need to close up for the afternoon, Tam. How’s that sound to you?”

She made a mock pout. “You’re the boss. If we have to.”

Hunt straightened off the desk. “You drive a hard bargain, but you gentlemen have got yourselves a deal. When do we go?”

“Tout de suite,” Carter said. “As soon as you’re all ready.”

Tamara was on her feet. “I’ll be right back. Just let me go and freshen up.”

As she disappeared back through Hunt’s inner office, Carter said, “There’s one other thing, Mr. Hunt. We’ve discussed this, Cecil and I, and we’d like to offer you free service in town if you need it, whenever we’re not driving paying clients.”

Hunt sat back down on the desk. His first thought being that this was like the old deal he’d had with Mickey when he’d been driving a cab, but better. And his second, that he couldn’t accept it. “Guys,” he said, “that’s extremely generous, but you’ll need your clients.”

“And we’ll get them,” Carter said. “But in the meanwhile, we’re at your service.”

“Would you let me at least pay for gas?”

The two men exchanged a glance and a quick nod. “Gas would not compromise our position too badly,” Carter said. “You can pay for gas.”

“Thank you.” Hunt shook hands with them again. “So what’s with the name?”

Both men smiled and Rand said, “Toucan.”

“Right.” Hunt still not seeing it.

“Mr. Hunt.” And then Carter said slowly, “Two con.”

Mickey had missed six weeks of cooking school because of his broken arm. He’d had the last soft cast finally removed earlier this week and though he was still stiff, he could at least raise it and move things around in the kitchen. And this morning, he was so anxious to get started that he woke himself up at a few minutes after six, had his coffee, and started his cutting-onions, celery, fennel root (why not? he’d thought), green beans, Brussels sprouts, potatoes-a cornucopia of just-purchased fresh produce overflowing the counter on both sides of the sink.

He’d gone down to the Ferry Building last week and ordered a fourteen-pound Diestel family Heirloom turkey that he’d picked up yesterday and soaked in the Chronicle’s famous “Best Turkey” brine. Truth be told, there really wasn’t much to cooking a turkey, as long as you didn’t overcook it, and even that was easy to time and guarantee with an instant-read thermometer. To his mind, the trick to the great Thanksgiving dinner was the stuffing, and since everybody had different tastes, he was making several kinds-prune, chestnut, oyster, bread, and sausage, and what he and Tamara had always called “plain old,” with celery, onions, stock, and poultry seasoning.

He was cutting the onions when he heard a scratching noise and he stopped and listened again. There it was again. A scratch and a soft tap.

Going out into the living room, he went over to the front door and opened it.

“I know it’s too early,” Alicia said, and then added all in a rush, “and the last thing I want to do is intrude on you or your kitchen, but I know how much you were doing today and I figured that since we were going to be eating here, our combined families, I mean, what there are of them, the least I could do would be to help you out a little, even if it’s early, although I haven’t really had much practice with exactly what to do on Thanksgiving, I mean, they’ve all been so different when we’ve even had them at all, and since Ian and I haven’t really ever had one exactly together, this one’s going to be at least one we can remember even if it’s the last one we ever…”

She stopped talking and just stood in front of him with her hands down by her sides. She took a deep breath and let it out, her eyes beginning to go glassy now. “And one other thing.” She reached up a hand behind his neck.

“I’ve been waiting for the right time,” she said, “and I so don’t want to be wrong, and I’m not completely sure if this is it yet.” She took another breath. “But unless you tell me not to, I’m going to kiss you.”

He beat her to it.