Some Like It Hawk(99)

“No, I’m afraid you’re even worse at gentle persuasion than me,” Randall said. “But I have an idea.”

I realized he was looking at me. He was going to ask me to go over in that damned tunnel again.

“You could deputize Meg,” Randall was saying. “And send her over.”

“If you’re worried about her safety,” Denton said, “I’d be happy to go along and help.”

“You just want to find out how to get there,” I said.

“There is that,” he admitted. “But it’s for my own curiosity, not to help my former employer.”

We all looked at the chief.

Just then his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and glanced at it.

“Damn,” he said as he flipped it open. “What now?… No, I’m inside—I can’t see the courthouse steps from here.”

I strolled over to the window where I could see them.

“Demonstration? What kind of … Good lord. I’ll be right out. Okay, what else?… Blast!” He snapped his phone shut.

“Meg,” he said. “If you’re willing to talk to Mr. Throckmorton, go.”

My stomach churned slightly, but I kept my face calm and nodded.

“And can I go along to help?” Denton asked.

The chief studied him for a moment, then nodded.

“You’ve earned it,” he said. “I admit, I didn’t think your fishing expedition here in the courthouse would turn up anything. I was wrong. Now get moving, both of you. Apparently there’s an army of naked mimes doing the cha-cha on the courthouse steps.”

“Only nine of them, actually,” I reported, from my post at the window. “And I think they’re doing more of a line dance.”

“And worse,” the chief went on, “one of those wretched Flying Monkeys is on the roof of my old police station, waving a gun. They don’t know if he’s firing rounds or just setting off firecrackers.”

The police station. It was a good ten blocks from the town square, where Michael and the boys were. But still.

“Good lord,” Randall said.

The chief hurried out.

“Call me when you’re back and I’ll take charge of the document,” Randall said. “Maybe I can get my cousin Melvin to put it in the vault at the First Farmer’s Bank.”

He scrambled to follow the chief.

Denton joined me at the window.

“How come the people who insist on taking their clothes off in public are never the ones you want to see in the altogether?” he asked.

I decided to assume this was a rhetorical question that I could ignore. Although I agreed with him.

“So how do we get to the basement?” Denton turned away from the window with a final shudder.

“I’ll show you.”

When we got out into the hall, I suddenly realized I needed to go to the bathroom. Was it because we’d been so absorbed in the documents before that I only noticed it now? Or were my nerves affecting my bladder? And should I call to check on the boys?

“Hang on,” I said. “Pit stop.”

I peed as quickly as I could and washed up in a hurry. Normally I’d have stopped to clean up the water I’d splashed around, but I tossed my paper towel in the trash can and pulled out my cell phone.

Michael answered on the second ring.

“The boys are fine,” he said. “We’ve heard there was some trouble over at the police station, but everything’s quiet here.”

“Are you sure? You could always take the boys home.”

“They’d pitch a fit,” he said. “They’ve been saying nothing but ‘fah-wah!’ and ‘boom!’ for the last hour. Every time someone waves around a sparkler or lights a small cracker, it sets them off again.”

“The Flying Monkeys are drunk, and they’ve all got guns,” I said.

He was silent for a few moments.

“Okay, I tell you what. Muriel offered to let us watch from the roof of her restaurant if we wanted to. Really good view, and she only lets a few friends and relatives up there. I’ll tell her I’d like to take her up on it after all.”

“I like that idea,” I said.

“Are you still in the courthouse?”

“Yes,” I said. “And will be for a little while longer. Long story; I’ll fill you in later. But I’ll try to get there in time to watch the fireworks with you.”

As we finished our conversation, I jerked the bathroom door open and strode out. Denton was standing where I’d left him, adjusting the gorilla head. I couldn’t see his expression, of course, but his body language screamed impatience. He pushed the elevator button.

“Gotta run,” I told Michael. “Love you. Follow me,” I added, to Denton. “And keep your head on and don’t talk to anyone.”