The Edge
Page 62
"Charlie Duck's funeral is this afternoon," Laura said as she fed a sunflower seed to Nolan, who was seated on a chair arm. "We can go see what's in the pot and maybe stir it up."
"We're going to start stirring the pot much sooner than that," I said. "Paul's first on the list."
Savich reached down and fed a bit of bacon to Grubster. He said to Sherlock, "Do you think they'll keep us as interested as Scan does?"
"He's already a hell-raiser," Sherlock said. "Savich is trying to find some weights light enough for him so he can begin his training." She looked at Grubster, who was now washing himself on one of the love seats. "That's some cat," she said. "Big varmint but a sweetie."
"I found him when I was a sophomore in college. He was so tiny and skinny then, not larger than one of his legs is now. The vet thinks he's about seven or eight years old now. Once Grubster trained me with a can opener, he never stopped eating."
Sherlock made more coffee. I lit the logs in the fireplace. The room was soon warm and cozy. Sherlock said unexpectedly, "It was probably a good thing you saw Laura use a gun. She was forced to tell you everything. I hate to go into situations blind."
"My wife," Savich said, patting her thigh, "can find a silver lining in a ditch. But you know, it's probably better that the shooters got away. If you'd taken them in, the shit would have hit the fan and you'd be sitting here watching yourself on national news. The agency directors would be arguing about who should be in charge, and the criminals would probably disappear while all the bureaucratic chaos was going on. You and Laura would be separated and sent to different sides of the country for endless debriefings that would ultimately lead nowhere. So Sherlock's right, as usual."
He stood up and picked cat hairs off his jeans. "I do have an announcement to make. Laura is nuts about you, Mac, so there's one good thing in all this mess. Now, let's get this show on the road."
I heard a car coming down the dirt road. I reached automatically to my belt. "Where did you park your car, Savich?"
"Behind the cottage."
"Good," I said. "Everyone stay put." I pulled out my SIG, eased open the front door, and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind me.
Chapter Seventeen
Cal's light blue BMW Roadster convertible roared toward me. The earth was still damp from the rain, so the car didn't kick up any dust though she'd jammed on the brakes to do just that. I remembered our own party at her parents' house and winced.
I quickly tucked my SIG into the back of my pants, called out, and waved to her. Cal got out of the little car and looked at me, but didn't wave or say anything, just waited for me to come to her. She was wearing baggy jeans and a huge sweater that came nearly to her knees. Her glasses were firmly on her nose. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail.
When I was nearly to the car, she jumped me, just as she had the night of the party. Her legs went around my waist, her arms around my neck. She started kissing me enthusiastically all over my face.
I gave her a hug and peeled her off me. "Hi, Cal, what's cooking?"
"What's wrong, Mac? Don't you want to make love?
How about over on the edge of the cliff. It's warm enough, or I'll get you warm soon enough. How about it?"
"I've got company, Cal."
"Oh yes, Mom told me you were here at Seagull Cottage with Laura Scott, that you were playing FBI agent and protecting her. That right?"
"Yeah, that's right. It's early, Cal. What can I do for you?"
"I just came around to see if there was anything I could do to help. Where's this Laura Scott you're protecting?"
"I'm right here."
Sure enough, Laura was standing on the single step that led to the front door. "Hi," she said. "I'm Laura Scott."
"I'm Cal Tarcher. No one can figure out why anybody wants to kill you."
"Easy enough," Laura said. "I'm a DEA agent. I was undercover until just last week, when my cover broke down. See, I was getting too close to something. Would you like to come inside? I think there's some breakfast left. You and Mac seem to be great friends."
"You're a DEA agent? Does that mean you're a drug cop?"
"That's exactly what I am."
"What are you doing here, with Mac?"
"That's a very long story. Would you like to go on in?"
I said in Laura's ear after Cal passed us both and went inside the cottage, "You didn't have to invite her in, dammit."
"We're going to start stirring the pot much sooner than that," I said. "Paul's first on the list."
Savich reached down and fed a bit of bacon to Grubster. He said to Sherlock, "Do you think they'll keep us as interested as Scan does?"
"He's already a hell-raiser," Sherlock said. "Savich is trying to find some weights light enough for him so he can begin his training." She looked at Grubster, who was now washing himself on one of the love seats. "That's some cat," she said. "Big varmint but a sweetie."
"I found him when I was a sophomore in college. He was so tiny and skinny then, not larger than one of his legs is now. The vet thinks he's about seven or eight years old now. Once Grubster trained me with a can opener, he never stopped eating."
Sherlock made more coffee. I lit the logs in the fireplace. The room was soon warm and cozy. Sherlock said unexpectedly, "It was probably a good thing you saw Laura use a gun. She was forced to tell you everything. I hate to go into situations blind."
"My wife," Savich said, patting her thigh, "can find a silver lining in a ditch. But you know, it's probably better that the shooters got away. If you'd taken them in, the shit would have hit the fan and you'd be sitting here watching yourself on national news. The agency directors would be arguing about who should be in charge, and the criminals would probably disappear while all the bureaucratic chaos was going on. You and Laura would be separated and sent to different sides of the country for endless debriefings that would ultimately lead nowhere. So Sherlock's right, as usual."
He stood up and picked cat hairs off his jeans. "I do have an announcement to make. Laura is nuts about you, Mac, so there's one good thing in all this mess. Now, let's get this show on the road."
I heard a car coming down the dirt road. I reached automatically to my belt. "Where did you park your car, Savich?"
"Behind the cottage."
"Good," I said. "Everyone stay put." I pulled out my SIG, eased open the front door, and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind me.
Chapter Seventeen
Cal's light blue BMW Roadster convertible roared toward me. The earth was still damp from the rain, so the car didn't kick up any dust though she'd jammed on the brakes to do just that. I remembered our own party at her parents' house and winced.
I quickly tucked my SIG into the back of my pants, called out, and waved to her. Cal got out of the little car and looked at me, but didn't wave or say anything, just waited for me to come to her. She was wearing baggy jeans and a huge sweater that came nearly to her knees. Her glasses were firmly on her nose. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail.
When I was nearly to the car, she jumped me, just as she had the night of the party. Her legs went around my waist, her arms around my neck. She started kissing me enthusiastically all over my face.
I gave her a hug and peeled her off me. "Hi, Cal, what's cooking?"
"What's wrong, Mac? Don't you want to make love?
How about over on the edge of the cliff. It's warm enough, or I'll get you warm soon enough. How about it?"
"I've got company, Cal."
"Oh yes, Mom told me you were here at Seagull Cottage with Laura Scott, that you were playing FBI agent and protecting her. That right?"
"Yeah, that's right. It's early, Cal. What can I do for you?"
"I just came around to see if there was anything I could do to help. Where's this Laura Scott you're protecting?"
"I'm right here."
Sure enough, Laura was standing on the single step that led to the front door. "Hi," she said. "I'm Laura Scott."
"I'm Cal Tarcher. No one can figure out why anybody wants to kill you."
"Easy enough," Laura said. "I'm a DEA agent. I was undercover until just last week, when my cover broke down. See, I was getting too close to something. Would you like to come inside? I think there's some breakfast left. You and Mac seem to be great friends."
"You're a DEA agent? Does that mean you're a drug cop?"
"That's exactly what I am."
"What are you doing here, with Mac?"
"That's a very long story. Would you like to go on in?"
I said in Laura's ear after Cal passed us both and went inside the cottage, "You didn't have to invite her in, dammit."
