He didn't want to hear himself say that. It was the kind of thing that Giovanna's father had been prone to say, down in Italy. Very Marcoli-ish.
"Chase him down? What can we use to chase a pickup?" Then Missy's mouth formed into an "Oh."
"Are you game?"
Missy took a deep breath. Time to take a risk. "As long as I'm going with you."
"They're fueled up," Denise said. "And the sidecars have gas cans, as many as I could fit in."
"If we run short," Ron said, "we should be able to get more gas in Erfurt. I hope. Plus in Fulda and Frankfurt."
Denise shook her head. "If he's actually going to Frankfurt. You're not going to be able to get more in Podunksdorf, so keep an eye on your supplies. You don't want to be pushing these babies home. Some oil. A toolkit."
"Be careful not to overbalance," Minnie said seriously. Neither Ron nor Missy had a lot of experience with the sidecars yet, especially not on unimproved roads.
"I called Pam," Missy said, "and begged a really big favor of her. To let Mom and Dad know where I've gone after we're well out of town. And tell Mrs. Bolender and Marietta that I need to take a few days for a family emergency. And to tell Cory Joe."
"The joys of true friendship," Denise said.
"Do you need to check in with anyone?" Missy asked Ron.
"I called Fischer at the Farbenwerke and told him to hold three or four upcoming things until I get back. Otherwise, no." Ron looked a little startled. "I, uh, don't have to ask anybody if I can go. I, ah, still consult with Edelman on marketing, of course; he knows more than I do in that field. And if I wanted to do something radical like change a whole product line, Dad and Magda and my brothers would have to vote their shares and I'd have to persuade them, in order to get a majority. Like I did when Bill and I wanted to add the Whatever Works project. Otherwise . . . Well, actually, I'm the boss."
Missy looked at him, even more startled than he was.
"I like the lab work, but I don't know it the way Dad does. It would take years to master all that, I don't have any special talent for it, and I don't really need to. Just as long as I understand what's going on. Someone like Bill belongs in the lab, over at the school, learning, or at Lothlorien, working. He shouldn't be spending his time worrying about resource allocation and stuff like that."
"I get it," Missy said. "That's why we've been spending so much time on records systems and such."
"You see," he said. "A business isn't something like the technical stuff you're learning at the libraries, or studying to be a doctor, or even a pastor, like Gerry. It's a different kind of thing. Management, I mean. Once you have a normal, basic education, either you can do it or you can't. And it seems like I can. So I do. It's not very glamorous, but it's the least I can do for the people who are actually accomplishing some real work. It feels a little odd, considering that a year and a half ago I was still checking in with Dad and Magda if I wanted to go somewhere in the evening. But these things happen."
"What do you think?" Minnie asked.
"Honest? I wouldn't put it past them to get into trouble," Denise answered. "I think we ought to go after them. Four heads are better than two. We have Daddy's hog."
That had slipped a lot of people's minds. After the events of March fourth, the police had duly returned Buster's motorcycle, which had been only slightly damaged, to Christin. Minnie and Denise had since repaired whatever damage there was. It never hurt to have a spare on hand.
"Especially," Minnie said, "since I don't think they remembered to take any serious weapons. Missy hardly ever carries a gun, except at work. All the librarians have to be armed when they're on duty, of course. And she didn't ask us for a loaner before they left."
They stood for a minute, meditating upon this serious omission.
"You're right," Minnie said. "We'd better go after them. From what we heard in Clara's office, this Holloway guy seems like a real freak. I'm not sure they can handle him."
"Not to mention," Denise added, "that he's one of the guys I promised Daddy that I'd take care of. At his funeral."
"Do we check with Mrs. Dreeson and Mrs. Wiley first? The mentors?"
"No way. We want to go, don't we?" Denise paused. "They'll want to know why we can't be more like Annalise and Idelette. Sometimes those two models of perfect young-ladylike behavior piss me off, even at second hand. If Mrs. Dreeson and Mrs. Wiley had any idea some of the things those two get up to while they're looking like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, they'd freak out. I'll tell Mom, though. She can call Benny later and tell him not to worry." She paused again. "Mom has her head screwed on straight about things like this. What does Mrs. Johnson in home economics call them?"