The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (70 page)

"You
want some cheese with that whine?" I said smiling.  "Ouch, let
go."

Harry
stopped moving my broken fingers around and dropped my hand.  "Whine? 
Here's whining.  I sacrificed my jeep and got blown ten feet in the air and
landed on something hard."

"That
was me," I filled in.

"I
got so close to two - not one, mind you - fires that I'm plumping because I'm
cooked."

"Hell,
I'm a toasted marshmallow," I snickered.

He
ignored me.  "And now I'm walking down a god-forsaken road, and they can't
even land a copter to pick us up."

"See,
this is what I was talking about.  Private eyes don't lead the glamorous life
you think they do. And that nine thousand dollars we got isn't going to pay for
a new jeep.  I wonder if it's going to be covered under your insurance.  After
all, you put it in harm’s way."

Harry
groaned and continued walking.  "Stop, stop."

"Sure,
it’s all fun and games till someone gets hurt."  There I said it.  I fully
became my mother.  Gone was the independent soul.   I had become Mom.  "Do
you think we, er, they got everyone?"

"I
don't care."

"You
mean we can throw all those holy men out of the house?" I asked gleefully.

He
looked down at me and smirked.  "Don't forget Dave."

"Buslowski,
he's definitely out on the street.  Betty's alright.  She can stay, but Aunt
Diane, if you ever..."

"Don't
worry. I’m mentally tearing up her card on the Rolodex of my life." Harry
rubbed his eyes.

We
came to an intersection.  "This way," I said, pointing east with my
good hand, "would be your exploded jeep and maybe some firefighters.  This
way," I indicated south, "would connect with the road to the sod
farm.  But if we go this way, about a mile or so down the road is one of the
best breakfast joints in south Florida."

"This
way, and that would be the responsible thing to do," Harry said as he dug
deep into his pocket and came out with a twenty-dollar bill.  "This enough
for breakfast?"

"With
that at Mama C's we can eat like kings," I said.  "They might let us
use their phone so we could tell someone we aren't dead."

"They
saw us."

"But
Michael didn't.  And Luke's due back, and I don't want him emptying my closet
and moving the new wife in, yet."

Harry
held out his arm, and I laced mine through it.  We started off down the road
when I heard the toot of a horn, and a white USDA/NRCS truck pulled over.

"Cindy
girl, looks like you and your young fella could use a ride," Sugar Booger
said as he made his partner get in the back, and Harry and I climbed in. 
"Seems to me that you guys are going the wrong way."

"Isn't
Mama C's down here?" I asked.

He
looked at me sideways and started the truck in the direction of the diner.  "I
saw that big fire, and I said to myself, Sugar, I betcha that Cindy girl has
something to do with that."

"Actually,
that would be Harry here and, I think, a couple of priests.  Me, I was just
along for the ride."  I sat back, wincing as my bare back came into
contact with the rough seat.

"They
might be looking for you."

"Maybe."

He
drove in silence until he pulled into the diner's lot.  "Mind if I give
you something less ripped to wear?" He said as he reached behind his seat
and handed me a well-worn Earth team volunteer t-shirt. 

"Thanks.
 You guys want to join us?  Harry has twenty bucks."

"I
don't know, we have that field to finish."  Sugar Booger rubbed his chin.

"The
flat one a couple of miles north of Metts?" I asked.

"That's
the one."

"Might
as well come and eat as it's on fire," I said as I turned my back, flipped
off my shirt and on the t-shirt before Sugar could blink twice. I pulled my
hair out, and Harry helped me pick out some miscellaneous foliage.

"Jimmy,”
Sugar called to his partner, “might as well get out of the truck and get some
grub.  Cindy girl has burned down our field."

The
surveyor just nodded and hopped off the truck.  Harry asked if he could make a
call with Sugar's phone.  He just handed it to him and requested that if it was
long distance to make it short.  We left Harry outside to make the call, and I headed
to the ladies room after asking Sugar to order me something fattening and
greasy.

Harry
was into his second version of our adventure when Father Michael and Betty
pulled up.  I waved them over with my good hand.  Betty rushed over and gave me
a bone-crunching hug.  Michael, feeling abandoned at first, shyly made his way
over to our table.  We had started off with just us and the surveyors, but as
the morning wore on, and Harry's story increased, we had six, maybe seven,
farmers and laborers pulling their tables and chairs over. 

One
of them brought a chair over for Michael, and he sat down across from me. 
"People are looking for you guys," he said irritated.

"I
had to stop for first aide," I said, holding up my hand.  Sugar had taken
two coffee stirrers and some duct tape and fashioned me a two-finger cast.  It
wouldn't do in the long run, but it made eating eggs and grits easier.

"You
know, you’ve a black eye forming."

"I
hit Harry's shoulder.  Or was it his elbow?" I pondered.  "I think
I’ve a couple of bruised ribs."

"Harry
looks pretty good."

"He
should.  He landed on me," I said, looking over at him.  "I hear we
flew twenty feet at least.  That's what Harry's telling them over there."
I leaned in. "It was only ten and don't believe him when he tells you
about fighting off alligators," I confided.  "So, do we know yet how
things turned out?"

"Aside
from the plane crash, the truck explosion and you don't even want to know what
happened over at the farm."

"Well,
actually I do want to know what happened over at the farm and whether we got
all the bad guys.  And if Father Thomas and Father David ever got found.  Not
to mention the flying priests."

"I
don't think this is the place to discuss National Security."

I
reached over and grabbed his hand.  "Damn right this is the place.  That
boy over there lost his jeep and put his life in jeopardy for National
Security, and if you don't tell them," I waved my other hand around,  "Then
no one's going to know."  I softened my voice.  "He needs to be a
hero, if just for today.  You know they'll bury this.  The moron in charge
didn't even stop to pick us up," I said, staring into his eyes. 
"I'll give you back your cat’s eye?" I said seductively

Michael
sat a moment and then began telling the room the details, as he knew them.

"After
Cin and Harry found out the location of the missing planes and called me, I
notified Father Peter and Paul who were flying in the jump plane doing an air
search.  They jumped and landed just south of the planes.  Peter checked out
the buildings while Paul went to secure the planes.  About the time that Cin
and Harry alerted us that people were coming, a ground fight began between the
terrorists and Peter.  Peter had found where they were hiding some very special
munitions and assembled a ground-to-air missile launcher."

"Amazing
what they teach priests these days," commented an awestruck burly farmer.

"Anyway,
to get back to the story, Paul had time to drop the tanks off one plane, but he
was shot and was unable to stop the pilot from getting the other plane off the
ground."

"Is
he okay?" I asked.

"Shoulder
wound, but he'll be fine.  Help had arrived but too late.  The other plane was
airborne, so Father Peter brought it down with a missile."

"So
that's what went whizzing over our heads, Harry."

"Damn
good aim, oh sorry Father," Harry said.  "It blew up like the Fourth
of July."

"How'd
the truck get away?  Who was driving it?"

"I
think it was Bill Metts.  Between the fathers and the feds, they brought down
five men.  But Bill saw that the tide was turning against him, and he took
off.  You said he passed you, and then when he ran into trouble, he doubled
back and crashed into Harry's jeep.  Unfortunately for him, he was carrying a
lot of explosive material,"  Michael finished and accepted the plate of
eggs and bacon Betty had ordered for him.

"Do
we know why Metts was involved?"

Michael
shook his head.

"Probably
for the money," Sugar offered.  "He'll do anything for a buck."

"They
have some men in custody, but I don't know if we will get the privilege of
having all our blanks filled in." Michael sighed.

"Tell
them about Dave," Betty prompted.

"Oh,
Dave gets credit for this bust so he's out of the dog house with the Sheriff's
Department anyway.  You and Harry are being labeled anonymous tippers to keep
Homeland from prosecuting you for interference."

The
crowd of farmers that had accumulated booed.  Michael held up his hands.

"Not
my idea.  Father Peter and Father Paul are military so they’ll receive the
credit."

"How
about Father Thomas and Father David?" I asked.

"Well,
they ended up in Boynton Beach.  Last I heard, Father Thomas had to restrain
Father David from shooting the OnStar.  I suggested to Dave that he put into
his report that they were checking out a location down there."

"And
you?"

"And
me?  I get my cat's eye back."  He smiled and held out his hand.

I
dug in my pocket and produced the marble.  I shined it up before giving it to
him.  After all, he did tell a good story.

Dear Noelle,

They say that
time heals all wounds. I still wonder who “they” are.  My fingers and ribs will
heal in time and my skin has more flesh colored areas than purple bruises, but
I still have a long way to go to lose the ghosts.

Harry
was surprised by an anonymous gift of a new Jeep Cherokee.  I think it was
Michael, but he swears he knows nothing about it.  Harry and Dave have gotten
close since they still both share a bathroom.  Dave never got back to his wife
with an apology, so he's living with us awhile until he gets on his feet.

Your
Dad doesn't seem to mind.  He thinks of Dave as Harry's babysitter.  I hate it
because I'm outnumbered and never get the remote control.  I spend a lot of
time in the hammock in the backyard.

Dwayne's
toy drive is in full swing.  He didn't let a little thing like a concussion get
in the way.  Bernice said he has four helpers in the community band alone.  I
haven't been back because of my broken fingers.  They did offer me the bass
drum, but I declined.  I've had enough booms lately.

I'm
thinking of your suggestion to come to see you, and I think it would be a good
time to visit England.  Maybe the magic of Cornwall will help me to deal with
the ghosts I left there.

Talk
to you soon.

Love,

Mom.

***

After traveling the
world, Alexie Aaron, a Midwestern native, returned to her roots where she’s
been haunting for years.  She now lives in a village outside of Chicago with
her husband and family.

Her popular Haunted
Series was born from her memories of fleeting shapes rushing around doorways,
an heirloom chair that rocked itself, cold feelings of mysterious dread, and
warm feelings from the traces of loved ones long gone.

Alexie also writes the
Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries.  These cozies set in England and south Florida combine
action and intrigue with a liberal dose of humor.