Something About Harry(66)
CHAPTER
13
Upon their return, Carl safe and warm, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and pressed against Nina’s side, they all hovered over Mara’s kitchen table. Marty had gone home to keep Keegan from growing suspicious in her absence. Now, with Wanda and Archibald, her husband’s manservant, on Skype, silence prevailed.
Harry’s good mood had turned sour when he’d remembered the note he’d seen tucked into Carl’s shirt pocket. He’d yanked it from Carl’s pocket, hissing his anger after reading it.
After careful examination, including sniffing the paper and studying the handwriting, none of them could figure out what it meant. No scent on the paper that was recognizable, nothing special about the handwriting.
It left them all not only stumped but on high alert. Everyone was edgy, but no one was edgier than Harry.
“Who the hell is doing this?” Harry said between thin lips, swiping the note up with an angry hand.
Nina flicked the note with two fingers. “Dude, somebody knows about you two, and whoever the fuck it is, they don’t like it. But I’ll tell you this, the dickknuckle responsible for stalkin’ kids and stealin’ my zombie’s gonna fucking pay.”
Mara’s veins had turned to ice, the heat emanating from the nearby fireplace doing nothing to warm her. “Tell Mara and Harry I see them . . .” The words on the spiral-pad notepaper sent cold chills up her arms and alarm bells screeching in her brain.
Nina’s hand slammed down on the table, the brunt of it knocking the vase of silk flowers over. “Bet it’s fucking Guido. Why the fuck he’d be doing this, I got no clue, but he’s the only other person who knows about Carl being with us. We need to go get his ass and shake it out of him.”
“And if it’s not him?” Harry asked, his voice rising. “Then what?”
Nina slammed her fist on the counter, making Carl bury his face in her neck. “Then we goddamn well do what we always do in every other case like this. We figure it out—together—and we don’t stop till we take a motherfucker out.”
“Nina!” Wanda yelled from the laptop on Skype, her fuzzy pink bathrobe tucked around her chin. “Before we get too crazy, how about we poke around and see if maybe it’s an old girlfriend of Harry’s? Jealous or something.” Her eyes fell on Harry. “So you have any of those, Harry? Maybe someone who saw you and Mara together yesterday?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t date anyone at work for a reason. Secondly, whoever this was took Mimi and Fletcher before Mara and I introduced ourselves as a couple.”
Mara sat silently. She didn’t want to know about Harry’s ex-girlfriends. Not if they weren’t important to finding out who’d taken Carl and the children.
Archibald stuck his shiny head around Wanda’s shoulder and peered at them. “I’m Archibald, sir,” he addressed Harry with a smile. “Might I say your children are delightful. We’ve had a lovely time these past days. We’ve baked, we’ve indulged in song and even some dance, for which I’m no match for the lovely Miss Mimi. Then Mimi and I had a divine traditional English tea. Sir Fletcher and I battled the evil dragon with our makeshift swords made of cardboard and tinfoil. Truly, they are superb, precocious, well-mannered children. They have asked to call me Grandpa Arch, as the others do. Shall I give them your permission?”
Harry’s hard swallow tore at Mara’s heart, his grief biting her hard. He loved those children, and despite their rocky start, he missed them. “Of course. I’m glad to hear that, Archibald,” he said, his voice husky and low. “They’re a handful sometimes. I appreciate your help.”
Arch held up a finger with a refined chuckle. “Ah, you mistake a handful for insightful, curious minds. Their energy, if I might be so bold, is simply misdirected. And of course, there is the issue of the loss of their parents. My deepest condolences to you.” Arch bowed his head momentarily.
Harry swallowed again, his fist clenching around the note. “Thank you.”
“However, Sir Harry,” Arch said, his weathered face changing from light to dark. “On one of our nature walks, wherein we chatted about things such as the dormant state of Miss Wanda’s vast gardens and the reason for said state during winter, as well as Mimi’s unwavering love of the color purple, we did discuss this woman who came to their educational facility and took the children.”
Harry sat up straight, leaning toward the computer. “And?”
Arch scowled. “As we walked, Sir Fletcher made mention of something I noted but made no impression on me until just this moment. He said the woman who took them on their walk had whiskers. Now, while I found that unusual, and of course, I wanted to remain calm and not cause greater concern for the young lad, I quite passively asked him what he meant. He said her chin had whiskers—bushy whiskers. I don’t think I quite understood what that meant, other than certainly, some women of a certain age,” he paused to clear his throat, “need more assistance than others in maintaining their grooming habits. Yet now, I question whether this is a factor, a paranormal factor, in your quest to consider all possible suspects.”