Nora Roberts - High Noon

It was Ma's turn to snort. "I don't see a new grandchild for me coming out of it."

"We're thinking about it."

"Think faster. I'm not getting any younger." She looked up at the trio of crystal chandeliers. "But you're right, it sure is fine in here. Let's have a little look-see before Duncan gets here."

Arnie Meeks was bored out of his mind. He was, in his opinion, nothing more than a glorified doorman, standing around while tourists and rich Savannahians came breezing inside. The tourists were a pain in the ass, mostly, just coming in to gawk. And the rich-bitches mostlyhad their noses in the air.

Like they didn't squat to pee like the rest of their kind.

The old man could fix this. Resentment bubbled up inside his throat at the thought of it. Push the buttons, pull the strings, grease the palms, he'd be back on the job instead of standing around waiting to roust shoplifters.

And in the weeks since he'd been stuck on this humiliating duty, he'd had only a little action in that area twice.

What he needed was for some asshole to come in and try to rob the place. Now that would be a fucking dream come true. He'd take the bastard down, you could bet your ass on it. Take him down, be a hero. Get on TV.

Get back on the job where he goddamn belonged.

He saw the two black women come in and curled his lip. As if that old lady in her thick-soled shoes could afford so much as a cuff link from this place. The young one was hot-if you went for the Halle Berry type-and had a slick look about her. So maybe she could dig out a platinum card.

Probably just more lookie-loos, Arnie decided as he watched them gawk around. The way he saw it, more than half the people who came in the doors were lookie-loos.

He did his own scan.

A dozen people wandered around the store, drooling over the displays. Three clerks-who made more than he did with their fucking commissions by kissing ass and talking people into buying what they didn't need-manned counters or unlocked cabinets to take something out.

The place was manned with security cameras, with alarms. Even the back room, where he knew the man himself was planted today, in anticipation of some deep-pocketed client. Arnie had heard the buzz on that.

Deep Pockets would be escorted into the back, so the hoi polloi couldn't watch him playing with the sparklers. Or if he wanted to be seen-and some of them got off on that-they'd set him up at the special table in the corner.

Patsy, the blonde with the rack, had told him that Julia Roberts had shopped there in the back room. And Tom Hanks had, too. At the special table.

Maybe he'd move on Patsy, get a little action there. His marriage was in the toilet, and the way things were going with Mayleen-thanks to that bitch MacNamara-he wasn't getting anything there either. Time to scout the field again, pick himself a new heifer out of the herd. He knew by the way she looked at him-the way she made sure her ass wiggled when she walked away-that Patsy was up for it. Maybe he'd take her for a little spin some night after work. See how she handled in the sack.

He looked over as the front door gave its little ding as it opened. He saw the brown uniform and cursed under his breath. A pain-in-the-ass delivery.

He stepped toward the door.

Loo pulled out her cell phone when it played "Jailhouse Rock." She winked at Ma when she read the display. "Hey there, lover-boy."

"Hello, gorgeous. You there with Ma?"

"We're here admiring a whole buncha diamond rings. Where are you?"

"Running behind. On my way, though, with this leech on me I can't pull off. He insists on coming along."

"That leech about six feet tall with eyes like melted dark chocolate?"

"He's about that tall, anyway. We're just heading cross town. Probably take a good fifteen minutes yet."

"Take your time, and tell that brown-eyed man I've got my own eyes on a pair of ruby earrings that are going to set him back a bit. Another fifteen, twenty minutes, I bet I find something else to set him back even more."

"Then I'll take my time. Why should I be the only one spending money today?"

The time was clicking down toward noon when Phoebe was able to see the photos. She hung over the shoulder of the computer technician. "Some of these were on the wall. Prints were left on the wall. Some of them weren't. This motel."

"Over by Oglethorpe Mall," the technician told her. "You see he's got shots of the outside, the lobby and this room."

"They used that room for trysts when it wasn't convenient to use his apartment. And this restaurant-I know this place, little Italian place. That's out by the mall, too. Not in the heart of things, not places they'd likely run into anyone in her husband's circle. But they don't feel like the sort of places he'd target. They're not what you'd call important, like Bonaventure. Not a statement like- Wait."

She gripped the tech's shoulder as he panned through the file. "Wait, that's Mark D's."

"Inside and out, back and front. I don't think they allow photographs inside Mark D's."

"No, security, insurance. No, they wouldn't want photographs. Pictures of the back door, the front door from inside and out." In her belly, muscles tightened. "I want cars over there now. Right now. Liz, get ahold of Property, find out what jewelry was listed in her personal effects. And, Jesus, let's get his credit card records for three months back from Angela's death. Good work," she said to the technician. "Let's get the hell over there."

Six minutes, she noted as she rushed out. Six minutes until noon. Maybe they weren't too late.

"Hey, buddy, when are you guys going to get the word that deliveries are supposed to come in first thing in the morning, before the customers?"

"Just following orders." He rolled in the dolly with its three large boxes. He turned deliberately into Arnie. "Just like you're going to do, unless you want to take a bullet in the belly. Lock the door, asshole," he ordered as he clamped a hand over Arnie's weapon. "I've got an S-and-W nine shoved right into your navel. The bullet's going to make a hell of a hole out the other side of you, if you don't do now and think later."

"What the fuck do you… I know you."

"Yeah, I used to be a cop, too. Let's do it this way." Lifting the gun, he whipped it across Arnie's face and sent him down. Even before the first scream, he was turning, both weapons in his hands. And he smiled as, right on schedule, right according to plan, some good employee hit the alarms that set them shrilling. And locked the place down. "Everybody on the floor. Now! Now!" He put a series of rounds in the ceiling, shattering crystal. There was plenty of screaming as people dove for cover or simply dropped to huddle together on the floor. "Except you, Blondie."

He aimed the nine at Patsy. "Over here."

"Please. Please."

"Die there or come here. Five seconds."

With tears already streaming out of her eyes, she stumbled toward him. He hooked one arm around her neck, put the gun to her temple. "Want to live?"

"Yes. God. Oh God."

"Anyone in the back? Lie to me, and I'll know, and I'll kill you."

"I… Mr. D." She sobbed it out. "Mr. D's in the back."

"He's got monitors back there, right? He can see us right now.

You'd better call out, Blondie. Because if he isn't out here in ten seconds, he's going to lose his first employee."

"There's no need." Mark stepped out of the back room, hands high.

He was a small-framed man in his early sixties, with a dapper white mustache and a head of waving white hair. "There's no need to hurt her. No need to hurt anyone."

"That'll be up to you, for a start. Over here, cuff your boy, hands behind his back."

"He's hurt."

"He'll be dead, you don't get it done. I want everyone to empty their pockets-one at a time-starting with you." He kicked the shoulder of a man in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. "Everything out, turn the pockets inside out. Anyone reaches for a cell phone, a weapon, a fucking stick of gum, I shoot. What's your name, honey?"